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!
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Last Week's Writing Prompt
Word Prompt: Gladiator
Where Have the Gladiators Gone?Oh, my dears! Youve come to hear the truth of where the gladiators have gone, have you? They tell you that the gladiator and its bloody sport in Rome has long since died, or that sports like football have taken its place.:thumb337966930:
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 everywhere my dears! The coliseum has extended to the ends of the Earth! And so too, have the gladiators.
They are the violent gang of thugs beating an innocent bystander to death. They are the cops, who in turn brutally beat the thugs. The jail mates in the holding cells of prison. They are the soldiers in every war. The victims of war wh
Subtle GladiatorSociety had thrown me the steak
To wish for something
That didnīt necessarily
Make me ache
I was condemnd to wish for a love
That could grow and bloom
And it came on itīs terms
But came way too soon
It wasnīt for me
There was nothing to do
I had serched for a love
But it wasnīt 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
With a less intressted glow
He new all of it
Yet wanted the show
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
Aaron Griller with the ball.
Fake to Reamer.
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
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 fans chase after him
He's running towards his car!
The crowd's catching up to him!
GO! GO! He's gonna make it!
And he just might make it!
HE'S IN! IT'S GOOD!
Aaron Griller beat a stadium full of people!
He did it! I can't believe it!
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 deeds never forgotten as
Nightmares stalk the crooked shadows
That roamed the veils of this slaughterhouse.
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 brown earth, the air turns dusty,
The heat swirls up to the roof.
The gladiator’s armour, now shiny,
Is returned to his battle-scarred hands.
His face is reflected back perfectly,
Beaten and weathered and tanned.
Mounting his horse, he carefully
Cradles his wealth like a child.
For what other protection has he
Against soldiers and beasts of the wi
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.
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-millimeter paintbrush sticking through a hole in the bottom, is poking up beside the lamp on the table. Billy did not see Mark in his current position, but readied a catapult; this catapult was a rubber band attached to two legs of an overturned chair. Ammunition consisted of various items from LEGO bricks to old candy bars that had fallen behind the desk
This week's writing prompt, from November 21 to November 30, is:
~www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yl6RZm…: Requiem for a Dream
~www.youtube.com/watch?v=e6YMf4…: People of the North Pole
~www.youtube.com/watch?v=NUbTW9…: Hotel California
~www.youtube.com/watch?v=3DaxAN…: 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?