Page name: Fate Writing Contest [Logged in view]
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Welcome to the Fate Writing Contest!
Voting is now closed! The winners are as followed: 1st Place: [Miss Demeanours] with 'Pre-destined'
2nd Place: [Lu] with 'The truth of fate'
3rd Place [Martox Stormclaw] with Tapestry of Fate
This contest is pretty much what the name says. Now not everyone believes in Fate, but for those of you that do, this is a contest for you. All you have to do is portray your own interpritation of 'Fate', using any form of writing - ie, song lyrics, poetry or prose.
This contest runs along side the Fate Contest
1. Must be your own work.
2. Only one submission per person.
3. Can be any lenght, but please don't go over the top and write pages and pages.
4. Be tasteful in what you write - please keep any obsenities to a minimum.
5. Above all - have fun. ^^
Deadline: To be decided.
There will be 1st, 2nd, and 3rd prize winners. Banners will be below, one they have been made (nothing special I'm afraid).
Place your work below the next banner (or provide a link to a seperate wiki page, if needs be) and list your name here, if you plan on entering.
1. [Digital Fortress]
2. [Martox Stormclaw]
4. [Miss Demeanours]
5. [Savior of the Broken]
6. [Cascading water lillies]
9. [Computer Girl]
1. [Digital Fortress
Title: You can't escape your fate
Bent over in pain
Blood flowing from the wound.
Eyes slowly dying,
The end is coming soon.
You thought you could escape,
Your fate, and be alright.
But now you know your lesson true
And you're giving up the fight.
Your eyes are clouding over,
From pain and from defeat.
You remember all the sunny days,
And your memories are sweet.
But now your time is running out,
And you no longer can survive.
Let this be a warning to
All things that are alive.
No matter what you do,
Or signs that you may read.
You can try to change your fate,
But you never will succeed.
Title: Tapestry of Fate
Like a mesh
Through acts in life
Through history and time
So that we may be remembered
When we succumb to
But fate can be woven
Like a thread on a wheel
Woven into new life
So a new fate can dawn
Nothing excites me,
I need a pick me up,
i need a bit more luck.
For everything around me i despise,
the jealousy, the distaste, the lies.
Nothing excites me,
everything makes me wonder why?
Is it only for me, for me to decide?
I need a pick me up,
and not to remember the night before.
That way it's not another thing to get me down
and i can't think about the ways in which im a whore
She's the girl, takes another toke,
passes out in a room full of smoke.
The one who has no self repect,
the one who takes anything she can get.
Because im 17 and my emotions dont matter,
does he like me? are my thighs getting fatter?
She doesnt know about the pitter patter
of tiny feet, feet she has made,
because all she wanted was to get laid.
I look back at that girl,
she was only 17.
She lived life to the full,
but sex drugs and rock and roll,
took their toll.
Because nobody loves her, understands,
all this girl wants is a nice and proper guy,
but all she finds is herself asking why?
As she cries and cries, and dies inside
as something else grows,
grows from her recklessness.
She was only 17.
Thats how she destroyed my life
because that girl was anything but me.
Mundayne, restless, bored
i need a pick me up
because im the whore,
and im out of luck.
Because i dont remember the night before
because i dont want to be the mother,
the mother of a baby whos father,
she never saw.
But its ok... drink another vodka,
im not a whore,
its not ever happened before,
so why not?
im 17, its ok.
And im only 17 i have no responsibliltiy,
and no sense of fate.
A time for death, a time to fall,
A single win, to lose it all,
No longer a presence, to stalk the hall,
The life of a dreamer, brought to a crawl.
A place in heaven, where all is well,
Or time for payback, to burn in hell,
For time on earth, confined in a shell,
It’s not for spirits, to live and dwell.
An eternity of waiting, stuck in between,
A path of confusion, a bright light seen,
The thought of life, is made obscene,
The clock winded back, the slate wiped clean.
The enigma odd, the sky too bright,
Oh how I’ll miss, the incognito of night,
What lies beyond, just out of sight,
It just seems peaceful, maybe right.
As sudden as death, it’s sucked away,
The happiness gone, dead as day,
The sky destroyed, from blue to gray,
I refuse to go, not this way.
The snake that holds me, will always hiss,
The beauty of living, that I’ll miss
To mystery I ride, for doom or bliss,
Of a life I once lived, I’ll reminisce.
5. By [Savior of the Broken]
title: the path is chosen
Some know things are meant to be
But only fate can see
What the future holds for one
Fate is given to everyone
Only the inner eye can read fate
But sometimes it is too late
Fate kills, fate gives, fate helps and fate betrays
switching fates is like searching for a ring in a pile of hay
It can be done, but takes much willpower
To change fate with its powerful power
Only one in a million
chooses to win a guzillion
The path is chosen by fate,
Your life is a story of love and hate
The reason why that is
Is because fate said, it is what it is
6. [Cascading water lillies]
Title: Architect of Fate
Fate, the tapestry of life itself
On art's canvas it weaves
Within time itself
Etched out of years of memories
A life is carved
Out of nothing
To mean everything
Choice, free will
A destiny with two paths
Neither one wrong
Neither one right
To do with as they will
Fate it seems
Is in your hands
You, the architect of your fate
The Fate of an Unusual Boy
It was his fate, he decided, to crouch here under the stairs. It was his fate to continue
to hide from the horrific creature that had pursued him for past few days. What other
than fate itself keep it chasing him? Following him to school and home again, no matter
how fast he ran.
It had been only days, yet it felt like months, an eternity of fear and anxiety. Why had the
creature chosen him to stalk? What had he, a six-year-old boy, done to deserve its curse?
So it must be his fate, his destiny, his doom for the creature to haunt him.
But what is fate? Damian wondered. And who decides what is Fate and what is Choice?
Could I decide? He pondered this, while huddled in the dark closet under the stairway.
The creature had entered the house, slipped in while his mother was carrying the groceries.
Now they were both looking for him, his mother and the creature. He hoped she’d be ok.
Perhaps the creature didn’t like mothers.
Well, he got back to the matter at hand, fate could be the great purpose that governs each
soul in the universe, or random acts that are pieced together by a fragmented mind.
Damian ignored the scratching at the door. A greater quandary needed to be elucidated.
If it is great purpose that moves it, then would it involve itself in the menial, or direct its
purpose only towards issues of vast importance?
Yet Damian knew that for every action there is a reaction, and perhaps choosing broccoli over
cauliflower that day at the supermarket might lead to a chain of events that could somehow
lead to something vast indeed. So that remained to be decided.
And does fate make sure that things will go right or wrong, and why? How many times had
he overheard his mother’s complaints about how people with power made horrible mistakes
and misused it? Damian liked to think that fate was on the good side of things, but if his
particular predicament had anything to do with setting an example of fate, it couldn’t be all
for the interest of good.
Therefore, if it is within humans to do wrong, fate may well be something of self or sub-conscious
decisions about what is to come. Or actually, how one will react to something to come, Damian
sighed with satisfaction. This meant that fate had put him here, but he had the choice to hide
or to stand.
Though he had never possessed any amounts of courage, he chose that day to face his fears.
The awful scratching hadn’t stopped, if anything increased, and he noticed that he could no longer
hear his mother calling for him. But that didn’t bother him anymore.
Damian got up and opened the closet door.
Purple Plated Fate
(Cast upon men, a purple plate perdures its instincts
upon the moral grounds)
Destined or determined, the image of self wanders through
the ages, adapting to petals and thorns sprinkled over
perpetuated paths. The guidance is delivered in large portions,
appeal excluded but the eternal rest is guaranteed.
On a glorious dawn, the sheep left the boarder to roam
freely over Valhalla's first rough draft. The bells toll,
outcry the scream for mercy on behalf of the forgotten
victims of classified delusion. The open road demands
no fee but takes its toll, claiming casualties for the
sake of the better way of living.
The reaction is swift, inquisitory interception instated,
but the spirit has drifted and taken a bite out of the
profitless salvation. The cage wasn't designed for centuries
of souls, the shackles old and weary. The common man
calls clemency, exhausted by the burden of the search.
(The purple plate, once cast now thrown, fell into pieces
and rebuilt its mask)
9. [Computer Girl]
So cold are the statues,
That sit upon the hill,
They are the statues long forgotten,
So broken and worn by the seasons,
So rarely passed by,
so alone do the statues sit upon the hill forgotten by time,
Days pass by no longer forgotten,
For a new statue sits on the hill no longer forgotten by time,
Longer still is the long forgotten tale,
Written about the forgotten statues of time,
Again they are forgotten,
Never to be remembered,
Behold the statues of time never to be found,
Upon the hill forgotten by time.
The truth of fate
riding a truth till the end of the line
listening to only the lies this time
cause and effect
strings gone untied
unraveling unto death
actions done half heartedly
leave their stains on the linoleum floor
even if you mop them up
the bleeding will only create more
So you sit and cry over milk that's been spilled
always seeing the glass is half empty, not half filled
gorging your wounds deeper and worse
till the voices in your head
are drowned out by your thirst
You reach out to grasp it,
you can't see it, its not there
looking for the truth
as your hands clench thin air
falling into the unknown that you call yourself,
not recognizing the darkness,
stumbling in blindness, with nothing to be felt
Trapped in a mind, of your own design
following the labyrinth of your past
confused by reading the wrong signs
wondering how long the maze will last
closer and closer you get the end
facing trials you rather would not
but all the time you keep on going
because if you look behind you the - healing would stop
facing the un-faceable
your fears in full force
will you fall in defeat?
or will you pass this course?
learning life is not a song
learning that sometimes all goes wrong
seeing yourself as you really are
for the first time - in all your seeing
learning the truth can't be too far,
all you have to do is keep breathing.
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