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Featuring those who submitted to the previous writing prompt from #Live-Love-Write, here are the participants for this week, featured in style, along with information on the newest prompt. Please remember to fave this journal to help support your work and the prompt! 
To submit to the writing prompt, please remember to put "for the #Live-Love-Write writing prompt" in your artist's comments and submit to the Writing Prompt gallery for your feature every week. Entries without this info will be denied.Please keep in mind that if you do not see your submission here, you have not read the submission rules and/or you have not included some variation of the aforementioned note in your artist's comments.
Last Week's Writing Prompt
Word Prompt: Gladiator
Admin's Choice:
Where Have the Gladiators Gone?Oh, my dears! You’ve come to hear the truth of where the gladiators have gone, have you? They tell you that the gladiator and it’s bloody sport in Rome has long since died, or that sports like football have taken its place.
I tell you they are wrong, that these things are simply not true. No, gladiators are still out there, the spectators are always watching, and the violence is quite prevalent in this world of ours. Oh, the names have changed, of course, and so too has the field. But this is to be expected from a people who claim to be above such things as our primal blood lust. Then where are they, you ask? Why, they are everyw
HeroHere I stain this field red
Mark it with death.
My moves are vivacious
My dances, agile
My strength is the steel
That none may cut through.
Here I sculpt the shape
Of pale corpses
Whose bodies now stiff
And souls long forgotten
For without honor
They had no right amongst the living.
Here I am
As true as an artist
You’re worthless to me
For I am the painter of blades
Fear me now
My blade is my brush
Here I am worshipped
Where fear lives stronger than love.
I stand higher than lords
I live past the clouds;
It is here I am powerful
Proud and strong
Here on this battlefield
My name shall live on forever
Because here
I am hero.
Poetry
Subtle GladiatorSociety had thrown me the steak
To wish for something
That didn´t necessarily
Make me ache
I was condemnd to wish for a love
That could grow and bloom
And it came on it´s terms
But came way too soon
It wasn´t for me
There was nothing to do
I had serched for a love
But it wasn´t suposed to cut thru
And withing this troublesome
Track of tiranious thoughts
I realized I had been
Pushed into that spot
As the crowd watched
I cried soflty inside
I did not wish for it
But I had to try
My failure was iminent
Sure to be the crowds bliss
They watched me fight
As I fell into my inner abyss
He watched
With a less intressted glo
GladiatorGoading his rival, their swords raised
Lunges forward, his reflexes so quick
Avoiding the enemy's counter attack
Death or glory awaits him, he battles on
Increased cheers from the spectators
As his opponent lies defeated in the dust
Thumbs down from the Emperor
Orders to kill, the crowd bays for blood
Raising his sword, he prepares the final thrust
Gladiator
Aaron Griller with the ball.
Fake to Reamer.
Wait, he's…
He's running off the field!
He's not stopping!
He's out of bound-
He's still going!
The refs have started running after him,
As he jumps the fence!
What is he thinking?
He's escaping the stadium!
The fans are trying to stop him,
But he's just trampling all of them!
Where is he going?
Nobody's doing anything back on the field
Because none of them know
What's going on yet!
Aaron Griller is escaping
Band-Aid Stadium!
Nobody can stop this force!
All the fans start running after him.
And he's still carrying the ball!
There he goes, into the parking lot,
As a wave of fa
The Coliseum, A Lair Of AtrocitiesThe Coliseum, A Lair Of Atrocities
Bloody curtains fall in this malevolent lair,
Cacophonous cracks of broken bones litter the air.
Atrocities sang in twisted hosannas in this coliseum as
The sands mixed with the seas of blood as man
Entwines with beast in a violent dance.
Gladiators were dressed for death as vexations
Were pitted against his own kind.
Violence became a pleasure as well as a curse
That befell this tragic kingdom.
The lightning cracked, flashing combat.
As cold steel kissed warm flesh, at last.
This stage was meant for one victor only.
The crowds howled for more
In the scorching sun to the ebony moon.
The morbid
GladiatorThe forgery clangs discordantly,
The warrior’s foot he taps.
The fight he last won valiantly,
Yet his armour is split with a gap
Above his heart, thumping quietly
The weakness he fears will mean death.
For his heart pounds a message, sadly,
Says weakness will steal his last breath.
Tis not the gladiator who treads softly,
Not he who watches his path.
The warrior advances proudly,
Thinking not of his health but his hearth.
Fighting for sake of his family,
Unsure which battle is last
Until the fatal blow falls oddly,
And death upon his own chest is cast.
The blacksmith batters hurriedly,
The warrior’s steed scrapes his hoof
On brow
For the lack of windmillsI rise against the frantic gusts of wind,
to defy the storm for defiance sake,
as though by will I can the storm rescind,
but I am but a man who dreams, awake.
Defiant still I turn my righteous fury,
towards a foe that I can surely beat,
but the tide's upon me in a hurry,
and for caution's sake, I again retreat.
Come at last to this, my final hour,
I make my stand so I might proven be,
that a man may conquer nature's power,
and standing tall, withstand a falling tree.
Though my cause was worthy, my flesh was not,
and henceforth I remain restrained by cot.
Prose
Fifty-TwoLike the weapons of wars fought long, long ago, I fear the answer will piece me. In moments my lifeblood will spill out, and I will be left empty. Like the time before and the time before that, I wait and I dread, and I fear. There is nothing more but to wait and curse the past.
Why couldn't I try harder? Why couldn't I be better? I let myself fall further and further each time. I wonder if I care.
I am not weak. I tell myself, I will not be weak. I will stand up and fight and try until fatigue takes my body or else take my mind. I will draw upon my resource and still and work until the moon is high. Life if a battle, not it is not some gam
GladiatorsEarly one Saturday morning, we find ourselves here, the upstairs bedroom of 165 Colosseum Court. Two box frames and mattresses were sprawled on the floor, with various toys littering the perimeter, recreating that unforgettable feel of a Colosseum in Ancient Greece. The sunbeams shine through one large window that's partially obscured with a tall drapes; shadows are drawn around an upright mattress, making good cover for our competing gladiator: Mark. He's crouched in the shadow from view of his enemy, Billy, across the room, who is partially visibly beside the desk. Mark knows he's over there because his helmet, a colander with a ten-millime
This week's writing prompt, from November 21 to November 30, is:
Musical Prompt
~[link]: Requiem for a Dream
~[link]: People of the North Pole
~[link]: Hotel California
~[link]: Scarborough Fair
Musical prompt again, multiple entries allowed. I hope everybody finds something to write about. Also, I cannot describe how tempted I was to put in a certain troll song, but I figured I'd be fired. Anyways, the deadline for this is extended, I'd like to check the difference in entries when there's more time to write. I've been sticking to mostly safe songs so far for the ones with lyrics, oldies and stuff, but maybe we'll branch out a bit next time. Suggestions are welcome, I receive and read them all. Also, thinking of making the next musical prompt to be entirely non-English songs, with translations included. Your thoughts?
Musical Promptby #Live-Love-Write