#its not only a poem it contains a deep feeling for his love

[meirimerens]

hey i hope its not a weird question but. do u have any favorite polish poets?? i know its specific but i feel like u would love Mickiewicz and his ballads and romances (rly cool polish-lithuanian folk stuff) (if youve been to Kraków u must've seen his statue next to sukiennice he was a rly cool guy) :3

let me be 100% wit you i have no favorite polish poets because i barely know any. my knowledge of polish poetry and literature begins and ends at polish literature students drawing słowackiewicz yaoi in their notebooks (real lore i've been made privy to). this is due to the fact that i cannot read polish (well that's a lie. i can read it fine i have an okay pronunciation if i take my time. couldn't tell you what any of that means though).

possibly the only polish poem i've pried open is Kazimierz Przerwa-Tetmajer's "Fragment z Fantazji" because i consistently put it in my peterstakh sexual images due to 1) peter being polish on his mother's side to me and 2) the parts "Myśl moja ściga cię, jak fala / ściga za falą w wodnej toni", "W sieć pragnień cię oplatam całą, / A sieć tę moja miłość przędzie." & "Kiedym cię ujrzał, toś mi cała / Przed zadziwionym wzrokiem stała, / Jak moich długich snów wcielenie, / Jak wizja, którą ja tęsknotą / Zmusiłem oblec kształt widomy." containing motifs that deeply relate to peterstakh to me, such as the deep sea, spiders & webs, and incarnations of dreams/thoughts into flesh. you just had to be there.

i Must get to reading Mickiewicz i had began going over his Sonety krymskie [translated in french] and liked what i saw. keep reading i must etc.

#ring ring (answers) #deepest apologies to Kazimierz Przerwa-Tetmajer for using his one poem over and over again in the weird bisexual pole strange sex images #unfortunately it's deeply relatable. #anonymous

[jofdiamonds]

The party was coming up.

And that meant, Aki would finally be reunited with his wife.

Airi.

The love of his life, the woman of his dreams. They said that good things came in small packages, but when it came to Airi, that wasn’t true. Whatever beauty was in this world was contained in 1.75 meters of silky skin, honey-blonde hair, full lips that remained rosy even after vampirism had stilled the blood running through their veins and eyes that made you feel as if you were wandering into an abyss, into the unknown. Oh, how his heart ached for her, even if they had been already married for two centuries, and had merely spent a few months apart. Oh, how he desired her, her company, her presence.

Something as simple as her footsteps in a different room. Her voice as she talked on the phone. The excitement of knowing he could make a turn and come across her, bump right into her, kiss her and show her his devotion in any way he deemed… 

Now, distance separated them. And it was not a tangible thing, not something he could fight with claws and fangs or a sword or, even using words. He just had to wait.

And, as he waited, he composed a song.

He did that, often, when they were apart. So that his voice would reach her ears (no matter how much he changed his register, she always knew it was him) and she would feel loved. Anywhere she went. Every day that passed.

It wasn’t a matter of jealousy, of claiming property. Aki knew Airi could caress other skin, kiss other lips, and yet, she wouldn’t feel what they felt when they were together. It was otherworldly. And they had this for eternity.

The song that was all over social media right now was called Vampire Heart. In allusion to what they both were; vampires, creatures of the night (but most people listened to it thinking it was nothing but a term to define immortal love). Airi for three hundred years more than him. Age difference would have bothered him back when he had been a human. Now, time was meaningless, vampirism not a curse but a blessing, that had allowed them to be together whereas, if they had led human lives, they would have died without even knowing about each other.

He was sure he would have gone to museums. Seen her face in art. Felt a deep longing. But nothing else, nothing more.

And now, however, he could sing her beautiful words, waiting for her return…

Let me bleed you this song of my heart deformed Lead you along this path in the dark Where I belong until I feel your warmth

Hold me like you held on to life When all fears came alive and entombed me Love me like you loved the sun Scorching the blood in my vampire heart

(...)

Let me weep you this poem as heaven's gates close Paint you my soul scarred and alone Waiting for your kiss to take me back home *

It was since Aki had met Airi that the word love had taken a completely different meaning.

It was since then that he had started to believe in its power, in its strength, in its significance. It was more than obvious for any empaths. They could not look at Airi and him, or at Andrómeda and Laszlo, without realizing the deep bond that they shared, the invisible string that pulled them together. And now, that was also the case for Vessel and Cassiopeia.

The way he caressed her hair, delicately, as if she could disappear from his arms any second, as if he couldn't believe that he was so lucky to have her in front of him. It was different, but perhaps, also quite similar, to the way he had contemplated Airi for an entire day after they had shared their first night together, afraid that if he would close his eyes –if only for a minute, just to rest his tired eyelids– she would vanish into thin air. 

Aki didn't think too much about his mother. Not because he didn't love her; quite the opposite. It was because her memory was too painful. A prostitute, he had been raised sneaking in and out of a somewhat fancy whorehouse that claimed to have the prettiest women from all around the world. Exotic ladies brought from places that most men attending the place hadn't even heard about. Asia, India, America…

His mother was a fan favorite. One of the most gorgeous women Aki had ever seen and would ever see. Luscious, straight black hair, so long it reached her lower back, an oval face with slanted eyes. Full lips, high cheekbones. An intelligent woman, who knew her worth, even if most people didn't and liked to play mahjong as a way to pass time. 

'One day you will find someone who will redefine the entire world for you. She, or he, will make you feel like your five senses were numbed for your whole life. Foods will taste better, the colors will seem brighter. Smells will be richer. You will find meanings in songs you would have never considered, you will notice feelings that were hiding in melodies. Their skin will feel like the softest fabric and the only thing to bring you comfort…' she had said, before putting him to bed, laying beside him.

He had been in his early fifties when he had finally met Airi. Fifty-seven when his mother had died, He had offered her the gift of immortality many times after turning, but she had rejected it time and time again. 

There's nothing for me after this, my son. No hope for other love, no need, either; everything I ever wanted to find I found it in you. Live for me. Love for me. Spend your days and nights devoted to those that make you feel alive, even if you are part of the undead. Don't be afraid. And always carry me in your memory.  He was just glad Airi had been able to meet her. It had felt like a ritual, when the wrinkled hand, full of brown patches due to old age, had closed against the pristine, intact, delicate one of his then soon-to-be wife. How his mother's dark eyes had looked into those of the blonde psychic vampire and the older woman had simply smiled and nodded, as if saying take good care of him.

#snippets of the most beautiful story written with brielle <3 #couldn't help but add the part of aki and his mum because #babies i love them #monthlyAU002 #vampy au

[shoefullofpudding]

Since I'm not an artist, I'm going to do a writing version of Paratober.

1 Stanley

He walked a thousand miles through these halls, echoes of footsteps etched into his brain. Every twist and turn was just another well-worn path. Fear had turned to boredom, hope faded to complacency. Still what could he do but keep going? The end was never the end. 

2 Bucket

Stanley plopped the bucket on his head. [I am Bucket Man.]

The Narrator sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Not this again. "Stanley that is a expertly crafted narrative prop, not something to shove on your immature noggin!"

[Bucket Man sees his arch-nemesis Captain Party Pooper! It’s Bucket Time!]

"Hey that's my line!" The Narrator yelled.

He watched in horror as Stanley bent down like a bull and kicked each foot. Oh no. The Narrator held his hands up.

"Stanley! Please. Not ag-"

His words were cut off by Stanley barreling the bucket into his side. The Narrator let out a huff of air and fell back.

3. Coward

Stanley hid under his desk. It was safe here. No one would ever get him… But that wasn't true, was it. The Narrator's words would end and the story would restart. *Please make it end. Please make it end please make it end.*

He imagined it did once the darkness of the reset took him. The floating void was the darkness behind his own eyes and once he opened them, Stanley would be in a nice warm bed, staring at the stucco of a blank white ceiling.

He'd turn his head to a window. A tree stood tall and proud bearing apples, or maybe oranges. A squirrel made corkscrews around it's trunk. Stanley yawned and-

Stared at the blinking screen of his office monitor. The Narrator's voice droned on in the background. He took a deep breath and pushed back the fantasy. It was time to play his part.

Fanon 

1 Stanley 

I'll choose the Stanley from my fic I don't dare dream, because dreams burn my tongue. This is a post fic poem he wrote.

My heart split open

Like a seed 

That could no longer

Contain my worth

I am no longer 

A wounded bird

But an angel 

Taking flight

2. Tumblr sexyman

The Narrator is from my fic Home Has Always Been You.

Narry stared at his reflection. The new haircut and the new clothes almost made him feel like himself. But not quite. His body was still frail and skinny, with a face aged beyond its years.

What did Stanley see in him? He wasn't the sweet chubby boy he'd been when they were kids. Nor was he some suave model with chiseled features and effortless muscles.

Maybe he didn't need to be either. Stanley loved him, not his image in the mirror.

3. Puppyboy Stanley

"Bark!"

The Narrator stared at the lab at his feet. "Just how did you turn yourself into a dog, Stanley? The bark command was only supposed to affect your voice!"

Stanley proceeded to run around and tear up random papers. He tried to dig up the carpet, eat 432's pencil sharpener, and the Narrator’s favorite yellow slipper.

"No! Stanley, give it back!"

He yanked at it, which just made Stanley pull harder. Soon, they were in a dire game of tug-of-war, the fate of the Narrator’s footwear hanging in the balance. 

Halfway through, Stanley turned human and spat the item of contention out. He got up and dusted himself off as if nothing happened.

"What? That's it? You aren't going to apologize for destroying my office or ravaging my slipper?"

Stanley shrugged and walked off, leaving the Narrator to sigh and wipe the slipper off with the sleeve of his jacket. 

#paratober2023 #paratober #the stanley parable #tspud #tsp fic #tsp

[elliot-needs-sleep]

And the Universe said

A tribute to Technoblade, 1999-2022

The Minecraft End Poem and my original writing.

I see the player you mean.

Technoblade?

When Alex- no, Technoblade, opened his eyes again, he was standing in a grand room, no, an atrium, with open walls and ceilings.

Yes. Take care. It has reached a higher level now. It can read our thoughts.

That doesn't matter. It thinks we are part of the game.

I like this player. It played well. It did not give up.

But instead of trees or the sky, he only saw stars hovering in an inky blackness, and a corridor.

It is reading our thoughts as though they were words on a screen.

That is how it chooses to imagine many things, when it is deep in the dream of a game.

Words make a wonderful interface. Very flexible. And less terrifying than staring at the reality behind the screen.

This player dreamed of sunlight and trees. Of fire and water. It dreamed it created. And it dreamed it destroyed. It dreamed it hunted, and was hunted. It dreamed of shelter.

It was grand, made of polished marble and plush red carpet, and he was almost sad that his boots were dirty and crushing it, but he continued to move forwards anyways, determined to see the end.

Hah, the original interface. A million years old, and it still works. But what true structure did this player create, in the reality behind the screen?

On the marble pillars hung frames gilded in gold, and on the left side hung Techno's memories.

It worked, with a million others, to sculpt a true world in a fold of the [scrambled], and created a [scrambled] for [scrambled], in the [scrambled].

Joining the server.

It cannot read that thought.

Tommy.

No. It has not yet achieved the highest level. That, it must achieve in the long dream of life, not the short dream of a game.

Phil.

Does it know that we love it? That the universe is kind?

Wilbur.

Sometimes, through the noise of its thoughts, it hears the universe, yes.

The Festival.

But there are times it is sad, in the long dream. It creates worlds that have no summer, and it shivers under a black sun, and it takes its sad creation for reality.

Doomsday.

To cure it of sorrow would destroy it. The sorrow is part of its own private task. We cannot interfere.

Pandora's Vault.

Sometimes when they are deep in dreams, I want to tell them, they are building true worlds in reality. Sometimes I want to tell them of their importance to the universe. Sometimes, when they have not made a true connection in a while, I want to help them to speak the word they fear.

Tubbo and Ranboo.

It reads our thoughts.

Micheal.

Sometimes I do not care. Sometimes I wish to tell them, this world you take for truth is merely [scrambled] and [scrambled], I wish to tell them that they are [scrambled] in the [scrambled]. They see so little of reality, in their long dream.

Dream.

And yet they play the game.

How could he have forgotten?

But it would be so easy to tell them...

And then, on the right, hung Alex's memories. He ignored the ones with the sterile room, and they soon disappeared and were replaced.

Too strong for this dream. To tell them how to live is to prevent them living.

School.

I will not tell the player how to live.

His parents.

The player is growing restless.

His siblings.

I will tell the player a story.

His friends.

But not the truth.

Floof.

No. A story that contains the truth safely, in a cage of words. Not the naked truth that can burn over any distance.

Messages he had gotten from fans.

Give it a body, again.

That damn potato war.

Yes. Player...

He could never forget.

Use its name.

Technoblade. Player of games.

He would choose to do it again, every single time if he could. No life he lived could ever compare to how he felt about this one. How he'll remember this one. How he loved this one.

Good.

A voice called out to him, to Techno, to Alex.

Take a breath, now. Take another. Feel air in your lungs. Let your limbs return. Yes, move your fingers. Have a body again, under gravity, in air. Respawn in the long dream. There you are. Your body touching the universe again at every point, as though you were separate things. As though we were separate things.

"Please don't go."

Who are we? Once we were called the spirit of the mountain. Father sun, mother moon. Ancestral spirits, animal spirits. Jinn. Ghosts. The green man. Then gods, demons. Angels. Poltergeists. Aliens, extraterrestrials. Leptons, quarks. The words change. We do not change.

In it, he heard everyone. His friends, his family, his fans, and he stopped to turn around, to speak to the voice, which was only a shadow.

We are the universe. We are everything you think isn't you. You are looking at us now, through your skin and your eyes. And why does the universe touch your skin, and throw light on you? To see you, player. To know you. And to be known. I shall tell you a story.

Once upon a time, there was a player.

The player was you, Technoblade.

"This is my time. I'm never going to be gone. They say that someone never truly dies until they're forgotten, so don't forget about me, alright? Technoblade never dies." And with a smile, he turns and continues walking.

Sometimes it thought itself human, on the thin crust of a spinning globe of molten rock. The ball of molten rock circled a ball of blazing gas that was three hundred and thirty thousand times more massive than it. They were so far apart that light took eight minutes to cross the gap. The light was information from a star, and it could burn your skin from a hundred and fifty million kilometers away.

Each step gets harder, and he begins to think to himself, to the universe.

Sometimes the player dreamed it was a miner, on the surface of a world that was flat, and infinite. The sun was a square of white. The days were short; there was much to do; and death was a temporary inconvenience.

"Did I do enough?"

Sometimes the player dreamed it was lost in a story.

"Did I help enough?"

Sometimes the player dreamed it was other things, in other places. Sometimes these dreams were disturbing. Sometimes very beautiful indeed. Sometimes the player woke from one dream into another, then woke from that into a third.

"Am I making a mistake?"

Sometimes the player dreamed it watched words on a screen.

Let's go back.

And the universe speaks to him, and tells him not to worry. His family will love him and remember him. His friends will honor him. His fans will defend and create more of his legacy.

The atoms of the player were scattered in the grass, in the rivers, in the air, in the ground. A woman gathered the atoms; she drank and ate and inhaled; and the woman assembled the player, in her body.

And the player awoke, from the warm, dark world of its mother's body, into the long dream.

And the player was a new story, never told before, written in letters of DNA. And the player was a new program, never run before, generated by a sourcecode a billion years old. And the player was a new human, never alive before, made from nothing but milk and love.

"You've fought long and hard, and the battle has ended in a draw. You have not lost, Technoblade, oh no. But you may rest now."

You are the player. The story. The program. The human. Made from nothing but milk and love.

Let's go further back.

The seven billion atoms of the player's body were created, long before this game, in the heart of a star. So the player, too, is information from a star. And the player moves through a story, which is a forest of information planted by a man called Julian, on a flat, infinite world created by a man called Markus, that exists inside a small, private world created by the player, who inhabits a universe created by...

And he smiles, looking up into the stars that speckle the ceiling, creating galaxies and auroras. Rest. That sounds nice.

Shush. Sometimes the player created a small, private world that was soft and warm and simple. Sometimes hard, and cold, and complicated. Sometimes it built a model of the universe in its head; flecks of energy, moving through vast empty spaces. Sometimes it called those flecks "electrons" and "protons".

Sometimes it called them "planets" and "stars".

Sometimes it believed it was in a universe that was made of energy that was made of offs and ones; zeros and ones; lines of code. Sometimes it believed it was playing a game. Sometimes it believed it was reading words on a screen.

And he walks to the door, and with his hand resting on it, he turns back around. The corridor is filled with shadows now, those of his loved ones and his fans. And he speaks.

You are the player, reading words...

Shush... Sometimes the player read lines of code on a screen. Decoded them into words; decoded words into meaning; decoded meaning into feelings, emotions, theories, ideas, and the player started to breathe faster and deeper and realized it was alive, it was alive, those thousand deaths had not been real, the player was alive.

You. You. You are alive.

And sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the sunlight that came through the shuffling leaves of the summer trees.

A silence fills the air surrounding him, and he smiles while he addresses the shadows.

And sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the light that fell from the crisp night sky of winter, where a fleck of light in the corner of the player's eye might be a star a million times as massive as the sun, boiling its planets to plasma in order to be visible for a moment to the player, walking home at the far side of the universe, suddenly smelling food, almost at the familiar door, about to dream again.

And sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the zeros and ones, through the electricity of the world, through the scrolling words on a screen at the end of a dream.

"I'll miss you."

And the universe said I love you.

And the universe said you have played the game well.

And the universe said everything you need is within you.

Its simple, he tells himself.

And the universe said you are stronger than you know.

And the universe said you are the daylight.

And the universe said you are the night.

"You better live long, happy lives without me."

And the universe said the darkness you fight is within you.

And the universe said the light you seek is within you.

So simple.

And the universe said you are not alone

And the universe said you are not separate from every other thing.

"So long, nerds."

And the universe said you are the universe tasting itself, talking to itself, reading its own code.

And the universe said I love you because you are love.

What is death but another adventure?

And the game was over and the player woke up from the dream. And the player began a new dream. And the player dreamed again, dreamed better. And the player was the universe. And the player was love.

You are the player.

And with that thought, he walks through the door, and begins yet another adventure for the blood god.

Wake up.

---------

Rest in peace, Technoblade. You'll be missed, but you'll never be forgotten.

Also, as a tribute to Techno, and my grandmother, my mom, and my grandfather, and everyone else who's lost family to cancer or who's had family with cancer, I'll be saving a portion of my paycheck for the next year to donate to curesarcoma. Just because cancer is a despicable thing and I don't want to lose anybody else. Same goes for all of the money I get from commissions.

- Elliot

#elliotiswriting #dsmp #dream smp #technoblade #rip technoblade

[acorrespondence]

32 and 23 :)

23. Describe the physical environment in which you write. Be as detailed as possible. Tell me what’s around you as you work. Paint me a picture.

Oh this is very difficult because I write fiction pretty much exclusively on my phone! I don’t require a consistent writing space, and pretty much the only constant between my many writing environments is a way to avoid or block out distracting sounds. I’ve written in my bed across 4 different houses and apartments, on couches in the same, on trains and buses and in the passenger- or backseats of cars; on porch swings, tree swings and fire escapes; even in hammocks in the woods. For me, being distracted by things around me is actually a pretty important part of my writing process—or maybe it’s more the ability to use those things to distract myself. I like to be surrounded by interesting things to focus on when my mind wanders or when I need to puzzle something out or take a little brain break.

Near where I grew up, there’s a little public park at the base of a dam. It’s not a park in the traditional sense; there’s no grass, and the area around the river is steeply inclined and thickly forested. Huge rocks jut up from the base of the falls, and continue down along the river, and in the summer when it’s dry, or when the dam hasn’t been running, the water collects in the deepest crevices and leaves most of the bedrock bare. Deep gouges scar the stone, vestiges of the dynamite boring holes they used to level the ground there and give the dam waters somewhere to fall. The river splits around several towering shelves of rock that stand much higher, and on one of those shelves lies a giant felled tree, a good six feet of trunk hanging out over the river, lifted some fifteen or twenty feet above the riverbed. I used to walk out onto the log and sit or lie at the end of it and write. I also liked to climb down and sit on the lower rocks close to the water. I’ve always been drawn to moving water, mostly for sensory reasons—the sound of it, the reflection and refraction of the sunlight as it tumbles over itself and the rocks and roots in its path. Anyway, that’s probably my favorite place I’ve gone to write.

32. What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic etc that you return to from time and time again? How did you find it? What does it mean to you?

Another hard one! Usually the reason I’m struck by lines in fics and novels and poems is inextricable from the context they’re written in, so isolating them from that context takes away some of their power in my mind. My brain is always trying to make connections—I dislike simplification. So if something specific strikes me in a piece of writing, it’s usually in a specific context or in connection to something else. I’m also not a very inventive or innovative person. Most of my creative output is more focused on synthesis and reframing. I guess what sticks with me more are conceptual threads shared across multiple perspectives, the little things that connect stories and memories and pieces of writing that maybe on the surface don’t seem to share much in common—and often these things end up threaded through my own writing.

One of my favorite poems is “The Hour and What Is Dead.” Here’s the first stanza: “Tonight my brother, in heavy boots, is walking / through bare rooms over my head, / opening and closing doors. / What could he be looking for in an empty house? / What could he possibly need there in heaven? / Does he remember his earth, his birthplace set to torches? / His love for me feels like spilled water / running back to its vessel.” In high school, we read Beloved by Toni Morrison, along with its companion essay, “The Site of Memory.” That essay contains the following quote: “You know, they straightened out the Mississippi River in places, to make room for houses and livable acreage. Occasionally the river floods these places. ‘Floods’ is the word they use, but in fact it is not flooding; it is remembering. Remembering where it used to be. All water has a perfect memory and is forever trying to get back to where it was. Writers are like that: remembering where we were, that valley we ran through, what the banks were like, the light that was there and the route back to our original place. It is emotional memory—what the nerves and the skin remember as well as how it appeared.”

These two excerpts and the connection between them caught in my mind, and together led to this piece of narration from one of my current WIPs: “Raylan . . . scoots over. ‘Come on then, get up,’ he says, resigned, and reaches out to steady her as she climbs up on the bed. She scrambles in beside him, Boyd following after. Raylan loses his breath a little, winded, as she burrows her head under his ribs, the place she’s always trying to get to—like spilled water running back to its vessel, though it’s hardly where she came from. Boyd moves nearer, closing her in like a comma between parentheses. They sleep.” This paragraph in my fic is in conversation with both those other excerpts, and mirrors their themes of love/memory/familial relationships. My intention with the story as a whole is to explore inherited trauma, inter-generational relationships, systems and cycles of violence/crime/poverty/abuse, and the idea of Harlan living on in Raylan (and Boyd) and passing to his children through him—how it’s reflected in this child who had never stepped foot there in her life prior to the beginning of this story. It’s just one line, fleeting and fairly inconsequential, but I think something about it brings to mind these themes. Several people remarked on having enjoyed that line in particular, so at least there’s that.

So, whenever a line sticks with me, this is what my brain does with it. I know no one reading the story is going to make these connections, but they both fit in with the themes and ideas I’m constantly preoccupied by, and therefore constantly worrying at in my writing. And I do feel like it helps me to clarify those themes for myself and anchor them in the story, even if the references aren’t recognizable to readers.

(Questions here)

#ask game #togina toli-a #gosh sorry for how rambly i am #i’m like a politician the way i keep answering the questions i want to be asked instead of the ones i’m actually asked 😅 #justified #my fic #toni morrison #the hour and what is dead #giving you all a little sneak peek at how my bizarro brain works <3 #thank you for the ask!!! #long post #writing #heavy heart #justie2justie communication

[coconut-window]

One Last Moment: An Exploration Of Surrealism And Dissonance

Fall like snow

Ye deathless metal.

Burn, like embers

Above the sea.

You take and

Steal a swift

God’s golden helm,

Believing the devil’s

Last words can

Delay the inevitable.

You are free

Within a prison,

Sweet nectar raining

Disease and rot

That can never

Manage to stick.

Praise and praise

And praise and

Love are handed

To you, who

Did not ask

For and does

Not deserve kindness.

Fall like snow,

Ye deathless metal,

And rise from

The ashes of

Your merciful cruelty.

-------------------------------------

Fall like snow

Upon shards of glass

Ever-reflecting, forever-revealing

Your flaws, your hate, the lies

You want escape, a drug born of isolation

Look away from me

Your eyes, full of sorrow, of silence

Your mouth, empty of those three words

Forever-scarring, forever-forbidden

How dare you

How dare you

How dare you

How dare you

What gave you the right

To steal me from myself?

To take away my beloved moon

And leave a rotten heart in its place?

Your wings unfurl, cloaking the last day

In shadow and stars

Is that night enough for you?

Or do you want more than my false cathedral,

Constructed from barnyard animals and words

I almost said

Fall like snow

Upon shards of the ocean-sky

And bleed yourself back into

The veins that birthed the corpse

You call paradise

-----------------------------------------

This Poem Is About A Person

i am the sand above the desert

that cuts the skin of the careless.

the season turns, spins, dances

until the leaves drift softly past the lovers.

an empty field, shrouded by the stars,

lies next to a river that flows into a drain.

a question is asked, below the silence

of the blizzard blowing by.

the answer is found, delivered by a rat

kept warm by the snow.

reality collides, then another, another

the laughter flows across the sea

those three words ring hollow still.

the ice melts, the world splits open.

we begin, you and i, at first equals

but the seasons shift and the ice

refreezes, and i am once again made real.

-------------------------------------------

The Swift god sells apples in an empty jungle

An antiThesis containing itself

The moon roars across an entangled economy

Spices raining down from an infernal sky

Can those three words ever be said?

An antithesis negating itSelf

Clementines sprawl across a euphoric nightmare

An antithesis constructing reality

A marble column sinks into a silver coins

Reflections of the deep-ocean floor revealed

A spilling of blood, unforgivable

A spilling of blood, irrevocable

A spilling of blood, unbreakable

How many apples will you buy?

How much is reality worth?

An antithesis becoming itSelf

---------------------------------------------

a race against the clock

some run, others crawl

some don't seem to move at all

a majesty, green brilliance seeping down

to push and shove and provide a trail

to give guidance to those who

cannot be lost

a tower of black gold, forever-rising

a checkpoint to reach,

an infliction to avoid

an ideal made unreal by the

various storms and stories that

steal away with dreams and spiders

a garden of void, eternal oblivion

a nothingness that envelopes and

from which only one can exist

only one that is real

within the moments, within the silence

within the space within the space between

the ordered chaos, the sunless amnesia

you sigh, and speak

words that were never yours

spun together, interwoven with words

i could never say

are you the gardener?

the lone caretaker of the lone flower

in the lone garden at the snake's mouth

a fruitless endeavor, you must agree

a waste of time, you must surely believe

how could anything born of this

never-rotten hell grow and live,

you must be thinking

but you have already won.

--------------------------------------------

Would you like to step through?

Through the forest, the blind mirror

That sings a lullaby, a sleeping child

Counting and dreaming, dreaming

Of a world where the trees are real

And the stars burn like embers

In a sky of the blackest blue

Of a world where she belongs

In a village that erases his lines

And takes away her vision

And lets him see the clouds

And lets her feel the red beneath

His skin, a prison of paralysis

She begs and begs but no sound leaves

His mind, a prison of paralysis

The cool air swims across her

Face, the ocean below his

Body rises, and rises

And the fire begins to kindle

And the village is no more

And the sky is no more

And the stars are no more

And the forest is no more

And the mirror is no more

And the child can no longer dream.

-----------------------------------------

An Inquiry Into The Nature Of The Three Sisters That Sleep Underneath Reality

How can you be so kind?

Laughter leaves your mouth like a plague,

A solemn distance between you and those

Who no longer know fear.

Do you weep?

When the children take up your impossible burden,

The weight dragging them down into tragedy.

Did you laugh?

Your light at last radiating in the darkness,

Your sin made perfection manifest.

Do you hate them?

The raindrops form your tears,

Stolen by lightning and oil.

What’s your favorite color?

The sky shines with red brilliance

That you will never again see.

Does the ocean hurt you?

The sharp rocks writhe at your touch,

The still tides in turmoil as you simply

Reveal the truth.

Do you miss the snow?

The cool breeze descends the

Mountain slope, a lonely freedom.

Do you enjoy it?

Your eyes shine a shade of

Infinite blue, your gaze directed

At the eternal lie.

Do you love us?

Our fragile lives dependent on

Your touch, a prison of paralysis.

--------------------------------------------

i am here.

there are 4 walls around me,

within them a room.

the room begins to fill

and now you are here with me.

but you are not me

and there are 7 lines between us.

you stand opposite of me,

a world away.

now there is a floor, something

to move on.

i take a step towards you,

but there is a line.

you laugh, unable to see the lines.

i ask you a question, you answer.

the line is now gone

i take another step.

the trees howl, aware of what i dont know.

i silence them, the wild beast no

longer cries.

the king with seven rings now stands

tall, the next line.

he tells me a word, but i cannot touch it.

another line breaks.

i take another step.

there is no line. i take another step.

there is no line. i take another step.

there is a line. i cannot take another step.

i cannot see this line, but i can see you.

you cannot see me, but you can see her.

i cut her hair.

she did not want this.

i watch her cry.

another line breaks.

you smile

a sharp smile

a smile of reason and lines.

you understand, but you do not know.

you do not see her cry.

she is no more.

i did not see that.

i take a step back.

the line does not break.

boxes of light push me forwards.

the red one tells me i cannot swim back,

my path chosen for me, a path that

leads to you.

i trust the red light, and i take a step forward.

thorns grow out of your drink,

bringing you luck and honey.

i let you drink it, and another line breaks.

the floor melts away, an ocean in its place.

i must swim now, swim through a summer

day, dots of light guide me through the tides.

i can no longer see you, but you see me.

you watch, and offer to help, but you do

not know.

i turn away, and another line breaks.

the floor returns. i take a step.

there are no more lines between us.

there are three of you, spectres.

you each say a word, the one i cannot

touch.

you return to one, one part of one whole.

you drift, i do not know where.

i decide to join you, unable to stand.

there are no more lines.

is this what i wanted?

no, it is simply the path.

but the path is no more.

am i free?

i ask the red light, but i am answered

by the blue box.

the red light is no more, it tells me.

but i cannot rest now.

the blue light is no more.

you touch me, finally knowing the truth.

and the 4 walls fall away.

---------------------------------------------

the wind dances in the air,

the sunlight its eternal partner.

the grass carries across it a

thousand ants, the ants carry

our crumbs. we made such a mess

that day, a moment i hope you never

forget.

i can still hear your laugh, your

smile still reflected in my eyes.

i couldn’t move my gaze off of

you, in that moment i understood

beauty. joy radiated from your

gray-green eyes, my dumb joke

somehow its cause.

my silence was a challenge to you,

my stubbornness an appeal.

you wanted me to be happy,

to see the world through eyes

that were not my own.

i’m sorry i could not give that

to you. i’m sorry i lied.

all i have are moments, those

beautiful moments i share with

you.

i do not love you. i wish i did.

oh, what pretty little lovebirds

we would make,

your mind a mirror of my own.

you could show me the wonders

of this world, and i could show you

the gems hidden deep within

the depths of the abyss.

it would break my heart if you

forgot that day. the miles we walked,

the jokes we shared, the rain we ran

through.

they have a permanence you do not,

a solidity we can never achieve.

i never truly knew you, and you

could never decipher me.

i was a challenge to you,

nothing more than a problem.

i suppose it was only fair.

you deserve so much more than me.

goodbye

--------------------------------------

Prolegomena To Any Future Exploration Of The Essential Characteristics Of The Soul, More Commonly Referred To As The True Self Which Is Separate From And Normatively Higher Than The Physical Self That Acts As The Primary Vessel Of Sensation

there is a bird in the sky.

i shoot the bird.

it is dead now.

the world continues.

----------------------------------------

Oh, my beloved

is the world too much for you?

are the days too heavy for your shoulders?

are the others unlike you?

an unbridgeable chasm, an ocean

of hell and fire, pale blue isolation

imagine that Manhattan is made out of pizza

a city of cheese and bread and pretty red

sauce mixed in with all your favorite

toppings

maybe that will turn your blue into a

soft green, or perhaps a yellow-white

which do you prefer?

the real or the absurd?

the truth or unreality?

of course, we all know what you wont

accept

we all can see you, we all can hear the lies

you tell yourself

the world you live in is not real, the world

you accept is not too much for you

rather, you are too much for the world

weeping on top of a tower, not of valuable ivory but of moss-riddled cobblestone

a hell you constructed when you were young,

a broken child, weak and afraid, just like

everyone else

you needed protection, you wanted escape

so you built yourself a maze of fantasy, every detail refined to perfection

every day, you ventured further and farther into your labyrinth, the reality of your true self too much for you to handle

it kept you safe, gave you an illusion of control, of superiority, of awesome power

power to hurt those who hurt you, power

to burn away everything that stung your soft, beating heart

but you are no longer a child, no longer do you need safety

so the fantasy rejected you, your lovely labyrinth twisting into a tower

you were given a choice, power or weakness

courage or cowardice

heroism or villainy

you chose wrong, and atop that tower you now weep

weep, for the love you will never know

weep, for the family you can never have

weep, for everything that was taken from you

but nothing was taken

nothing was lost

you chose wrong, and now you have nothing but your fantasy

oh, my poor, ignorant beloved

you believe no one loves you, not truly

not in a way that matters

yet even so, i love you still

the misery of your fantasy is exquisite,

so focused, so brittle, so absolute,

an iron-clad grip on your pretty throat

how could anything other a god create

something so beautiful?

yes, that is what you are

a god, a weak god, a pitiful god

a god who chose wrong, and now must

burn underneath an ocean of pale-blue

isolation

would you like to know the most perfect part of your little prison?

the real reason i love you so?

it is the open door, wide and ever so enticing

it waits for you, begging you to leave

to accept reality, to join the others

but you do not see them, nor the door

all you see is that illusion, of power, of superiority

so you hold on to it, desperate to stay in your unreality

a prison with an open door,

a prison that begs you to leave

and you, the creator and the prisoner

a lovely dissonance, such flavorful irony

how could anyone not love you?

how are you so blind?

oh, my beloved

imagine that Manhattan is made out of pizza

construct a new fantasy, let go of the pathetic child you used to be

and perhaps you can escape your prison

and perhaps you can step through that open door

accept the truth, enter reality, chose to be the courageous hero you pretend to be

i know you will not, i know you can not

perhaps i too live in a fantasy,

a fantasy of hope, of a twisted truth

but i do not weep in my fantasy

it does not hurt me as yours does

i laugh atop my tower, i love and i cry

sweet tears, beautiful tears,

but i do not weep as you do

oh, my beloved

how could you possibly understand my love?

you see it as pity, as contempt,

as violence and war

if only you knew

how much i love you,

your tears, your prison, your broken fantasy

i want you to be real, to be free, to finally begin to smile

oh, my beloved

my beautiful beloved, for whom the world is too much

my beautiful beloved, for whom the days are too heavy

my beautiful beloved, unlike all the rest

my beautiful beloved, for whom i wish only freedom

may you one day find happiness.

-----------------------------------------

You goddamn diva.

You are not a god, my darling beloved.

You are less than worthless.

We must imagine Sisyphus happy,

You say.

But you are not Sisyphus. You are the stone.

Not the puppetmaster but a simple

Marionette, holding its own strings.

Twisting itself into something that matters,

Weeping a fantasy of its own importance.

No, you are not the stone.

You are just a pebble, nothing more than

An object to be stepped on by the great.

Your delusion will let you do nothing else,

reveling in your isolation,

Never more than a stone's throw away

From the dancing stars,

Living underneath a sky of blackest-blue.

I love you,

But you do not deserve those three words.

I can never say them, not to you.

I am sorry,

For the hell you must live in.

Please forgive me,

for the web you think I spun around you.

You say they are just words,

words within words within words within a Smile.

Your smile, I will never forget it.

I love you,

And I truly hope you one day find the Happiness you dance around, but

Please, just leave.

--------------------------------------------

do you still dream?

of that white christmas we spent together,

huddled up next to that fireplace, drinking the overly-sweet hot chocolate i made?

do you still cherish that memory?

oh, my beloved

the memories we dance through are

hope, the loves we lose as the green brilliance burns us away

oh, my beloved

i dreamt you sang a song long ago

a silver song

will you sing it once again?

you insist on stillness

on static and decay

so i will not ask you to dance with me

(you were never particularly good at it anyways)

but from atop your tree, from within your nest you must sing

and perhaps you can begin to listen

listen to the wind within the air

listen to the colors within the rain

listen to the words not spoken within the minds of others

you say you will not speak

but the words are not yours to say

they are mine, and i gift them to you

you have already won, victory eternal lies naked on the palm of your hand

close your fists, accept my gift

and perhaps you will finally be able to hear your own words

words within words within words within a smile

your smile used to shine, far more brilliant than that empty garden

but you smile no more

i will forget your smile one day

or perhaps it will be a night

i hope it will be a dark and stormy one

you never did understand, did you?

always getting carried away by that swift god

(you dont even like apples, dumbass)

those three words haunt you

spectres of a spectre, never quite there

but always by your side

one day, you will touch them

one day, you will find perfection

but in the meantime, i will be here

at the edge of your reach

i will not leave you

not again

i will join you atop your tower of cobblestone

and together we shall weep

you, for the world

and i, for you

---------------------------------------------

Your nails have gotten quite long,

Haven't they?

Once again, yet again

Always and forever.

Can you not see yourself?

Can you not hear your music?

We used to sing together,

Dance together,

Create worlds together.

You, on your piano

And I, on my violin.

Would you like to play again?

Do you still remember that song?

The one that felt like enough?

Why that song,

I always wondered.

Nothing else was enough for you.

I gave you my moon,

My words,

My eyes,

But you kept wanting more.

For the longest time, I wanted

To be that song, for you to love me

As I loved you.

We were children back then,

Too young to understand ourselves

And then there was you,

For whom every action was effortless

For whom every word flowed like water

For whom the sky was nothing but stars.

A walking contradiction,

An enigma with physical form.

How could anyone not love you,

I used to wonder.

We were children back then,

But we are no longer young.

The seasons shifted and the ice

Refroze, and I now know the

Answer to my question.

Those three words,

The riddle solved at last.

Perhaps one day we will

Return to our childhood selves,

The naive gods we used to be.

But until then,

I will shed no more tears for you.

-----------------------------------------

#poetry #narrative poetry

[aksarabumilangit]

Why does Denny JA’s essay poetry remain relevant and influential in the modern era?

   Essay poetry is a form of literature that has been around for a long time and continues to develop over time. In the Indonesian context, one of the names that cannot be ignored is Denny JA. Essay poems remain relevant and influential to date, even though we are in the modern era full of digital technology and information. This article will discuss why Denny JA’s essay poetry has an eternal attraction and contributes to our cultural wealth.    First of all, it is important to understand that Denny Ja is a very famous and recognized writer in Indonesia. He combines poetry and essays in his own unique style, creating brilliant and memorable works. Denny Ja’s works show his expertise in assembling beautiful and deep words, describing his views on life, love, and society. This uniqueness is the main attraction for many readers, because Denny Ja’s essay poetry presents a different perspective and enriching their reading experience.    In addition, Denny Ja’s essay poetry is also relevant in the modern era because of the messages he conveyed. Denny Ja’s works often express his thoughts about actual social and political issues. In his essay poetry, he not only reflects social reality, but also explores in these problems. Denny Ja messages can touch the hearts of the reader, encourage them to think more deeply about community problems and contribute to positive changes.    Besides being relevant, Denny Ja’s essay poetry also still influences in the modern era because of its unique and unique writing style. The language he uses is very strong and memorable, able to describe emotions and atmosphere with extraordinary precision. Denny Ja often uses unique sentences, combining daily language with literary language, creating stunning rhythm and increasing the appeal of his essay poetry. The typical writing style makes Denny Ja’s works easily identified and recognized by the reader.    In addition, Denny Ja’s works also have a strong visual appeal. He often uses living and imaginative images, building a strong and impressive image in the reader’s mind. This allows the reader to feel and visualize the messages to be conveyed by Denny Ja more clearly and in depth.    Finally, Denny Ja’s essay poetry still has a strong influence because he succeeded in creating timeless and universal works. Although these works are produced at a certain time, messages and values contained in it remain relevant and can be applied in any context. This makes Denny Ja’s essay poetry can be enjoyed by various generations and is not bound to time limits.    Overall, Denny Ja’s essay poetry remains relevant and influential in the modern era because of its eternal attraction, the messages he conveyed, the unique writing style, and the visual influence he produced. Denny Ja’s works have made a major contribution to our cultural wealth, and it is important for us to continue to respect and respect this valuable literary heritage.

Check more: Why does Denny JA’s essay poetry remain relevant and influential in the modern era?

[arifreko]

Discussing the mission of Denny JA: coloring Indonesia through quality essay poetry

Indonesia, a country that is rich in culture and natural beauty. Inside there are many figures who are persistent in trying to introduce Indonesia’s charm to the world. One of the figures that should be discussed is Denny JA, a modern poet who has a noble mission in coloring Indonesia through quality essay poetry.    Denny JA, or complete Denny JAnuar Ali, is an Indonesian writer who is famous for his beautiful and meaningful works. Through poetry and essay, he managed to raise important themes that aroused feelings and provoked the mind of his reader. Denny Ja is committed to using literary works as a means to maintain and appreciate the diversity of Indonesian culture.    One of the famous works of Denny Ja is the poetry of essays poetry and essay entitled “Poci Negeri” published in 2006. This essay poem contains a collection of poetry and essays that photograph Indonesian cultural wealth in a unique and original way. Through his beautiful words, Denny Ja tells the natural beauty of Indonesia, local wisdom, and inspirational stories about everyday life.    Not only through his writing, Denny Ja is also active in holding various activities to promote quality essay poetry. For example, he is often a speaker at literary seminars and workshops, where he shares his experiences and knowledge with young writers and poets. Denny Ja believes that through learning and collaboration, the quality of Indonesian literature can continue to increase.    In addition, Denny Ja also founded the Lontar Foundation, an institution that focused on the publication of Indonesian literary works. This foundation aims to preserve and develop Indonesian literary works through the publication of quality essay poetry. Denny Ja is aware that the importance of encouraging young Indonesian writers to continue to work and share their stories with the world.    Quality poetry and essays produced by Denny Ja have its own uniqueness. He is able to describe the beauty of Indonesia in beautiful and poetic language. Every word he chose has a deep meaning and is able to touch the reader’s heart. Through his works, Denny Ja wants to inspire many people to love and maintain the diversity of Indonesian culture.    Not only that, Denny Ja also plays an active role in literacy campaigns in Indonesia. He believes that reading and writing is the key to developing his potential and improving the quality of life. Through this literacy campaign, Denny Ja hopes to encourage Indonesian people to be more active in reading and writing, so that creative and knowledgeable society can be created.    Thanks to his persistent efforts, Denny Ja has inspired many people in the world of literature and art. His works have received many awards, both at home and abroad. It has become an example for the young generation of Indonesia to continue to respect and preserve Indonesian culture through quality literary works.    In facing the challenges and changes of the times, Denny Ja still holds his mission to color Indonesia through quality essay poetry. He believes that literature is a window to the world that can connect various cultures and values of life.

Check more: Discuss the mission of Denny Ja: Coloring Indonesia through Quality Essay Poetry

[leonalfari]

Denny Ja: Bring mathematics to a wider world through meaningful words

Everyone must agree that mathematics is a universal language that can be used in all fields. Unfortunately, there are still many people who feel afraid or frustrated with mathematics because they are blinded by complicated formulas and concepts. However, a man named Denny JA wants to prove that mathematics can actually be enjoyed by anyone, as long as he understands how to apply it in everyday life. The figure of Denny JA himself is familiar in the world of Indonesian education. He is the founder and executive director of LP3ES (Institute of Research, Education and Economic and Social Information) which focuses on research and formulation of public policies in various fields, such as economics, politics, education, health, and the environment. In its work in the world of research, Denny JA often uses mathematics as a tool for analyzing data and presenting findings in graphics or tables. However, what's interesting is that Denny Ja's way of presenting the mathematical concept to the general public. In the essay poetry of his essay, Denny Ja often uses words that are full of meaning and are easily understood to explain difficult mathematical concepts. For example, in the essay poem "Application Mathematics: Easy Learning and Understanding", Denny Ja presents material about statistics and probability by using analogy about real life. He invited his readers to understand the concept of "possibility" or "opportunity" by using examples that are familiar to most people. For example, Denny Ja equates probability in opportunities theory by choosing cards in card games, driving motorized vehicles on the highway, or buying lottery tickets. In every example, Denny Ja always presents a simple situation but gives a deep meaning about various related mathematical aspects. In the essay poem "Essay on Character Education", Denny Ja also shows his love for mathematics by inviting readers to question the true meaning of the numbers and formulas they will learn. In the essay poem, Denny Ja stated his critical view of the education system which only pursued numbers or values. He encouraged us to see mathematics as a means to shape positive characters, such as hard work, independence, and discipline. In one of his writings in Kompasiana, Denny Ja even presents mathematics as an art. He compared the forms and patterns contained in mathematics with artwork, such as paintings or sculptures. Denny Ja states that mathematics also requires high imagination and creativity to produce complex but elegant concepts. In his view, mathematics is not just a sequence of numbers or boring calculations, but a creative work that captivates the heart and challenging reason. Not only through writing or essay poetry, Denny Ja is also active in holding a workshop or seminar on mathematics for the general public. One of these activities is the "Science Market" which is held every year by LP3ES in collaboration with various institutions and agencies in Indonesia. In this event, Denny Ja and his team presented mathematical materials and other science in practical and interactive form, so that participants could immediately feel the benefits in everyday life. Through various works and activities, Denny Ja brings mathematics to a wider world and embraces various walks of life to learn to understand mathematics in a fun and useful way. Even though he is often considered an academic or economist, Denny Ja has never left his insight based on deep human intuition and thinking. In addition to mathematics, Denny Ja is also famous as a writer and educator who likes to write poetry or make documentary films. All his love for art and expression of life helped give color to his view of mathematics, so that he was able to invite us to reflect on how beautiful the world of mathematics was often spared from our daily observations.

Check more: Denny JA: Bring mathematics to a wider world through words that are full of meaning

[zamilahblog]

Exploring the work of Denny Ja: Understanding Chairil Anwar dosage for authentic life

In the world of Indonesian literature, the name Chairil Anwar is one of the most known and respected. The works of poetry and prose from this legendary poet have had a major influence on the development of Indonesian literature. However, in recent years, there was a writer who also stole the public's attention with his inspiring works, namely Denny JA. This article will discuss the importance of exploring Denny JA's work and understanding Chairil Anwar dosage to authentic life. In Denny JA's works, there are strong messages about life and personality. He often invites his readers to live authenticly, namely living in accordance with the values and principles they believe. Not only that, Denny Ja also often included quotations from Chairil Anwar's works in his writing, adding to the strength and depth of the message he wanted to convey. One example of Denny Ja's very inspiring work is his book entitled "Sin of Media Sins." In this book, Denny Ja criticized the Indonesian mass media which tends to present news that is not qualified and unbalanced. He invited his readers to be more critical in receiving information, and not only raw trusting what was presented by the media. In this book, Denny Ja also emphasizes the importance of being an authentic person and is not easily influenced by public opinion. In his works, Denny Ja often uses straightforward but weighted language. He is able to package complex messages into writing that is easily understood by the reader. In addition, he also often uses a relaxed language style but still contains deep meaning. This makes his writing remain relevant and easily digested by various groups. Developing Denny Ja's works is not only useful to increase understanding of life and personality, but also provides insight into Indonesian literature. In his works, he often included quotations from Chairil Anwar's works, one of the famous Indonesian poets. This shows the big influence possessed by Chairil Anwar in Denny Ja's thoughts and works. Chairil Anwar is known for its emotional and brave poems. He expressed his feelings with a simple but strong style of language. In his works, Chairil Anwar often raises themes such as love, freedom, and human existence. He also often criticized social and political life at that time. Through Chairil Anwar's works, the reader can understand the dose of courage needed to live authentic. In this life, we are often trapped in expectations and demands from the surrounding environment. Sometimes, we find it difficult to live according to ourselves. However, through Denny Ja's works and Chairil Anwar's dose, we can learn to be more courageous and live authenticly. In conclusions, exploring the work of Denny Ja and understanding Chairil Anwar dosage for authentic life is important in personal development. Through their works, we can learn to live in accordance with the values and principles that we believe. These works also provide insight into Indonesian literature and the great influence possessed by Chairil Anwar. Hopefully this article can provide more inspiration and understanding in authentic life.

Check more: Exploring Denny JA's work: Understanding Chairil Anwar's dose for authentic life

[aksaraer]

Reviewing Denny JA’s selected work to 52: “God’s love is merely” in detail and professional

   In the world of Indonesian literature, the name Denny JA is familiar. The writer, also known as an activist, has presented amazing work throughout his career. One of his newest works is “God’s love alone”. This work has been chosen as one of his best works in his 52nd birthday celebration. Let’s review Denny JA’s elected work in detail and professional.    “LOVE LORD only” is an essay poem that raises the theme of life and love in a spiritual perspective. In this work, Denny JA succeeded in creating a distinctive and interesting character world. He introduced the reader to the main character, Rama, a man who was looking for the meaning of his life on his spiritual journey.    The storyline presented by Denny Ja in “God’s Love alone” is so attractive. With his expertise in processing words, he was able to describe Rama’s feelings, thoughts, and emotions so deeply. The reader will feel like feeling every step of Rama’s journey, ranging from anxiety to enlightenment.    Not only that, the narrative in this essay poem is also very rich in detail. Denny Ja gives a very lively picture of the setting of the place and time of the story. A detailed explanation of each event and character also helps readers understand and connect with the story line better.    One of the things that makes “God’s love mere” into the 52nd -elected work of Denny Ja is the use of language that is so neat. In this essay poem, the language used by Denny Ja feels light but full of meaning. He is able to describe the beauty of spirituality in a simple but striking way.    In addition, Denny Ja also did not forget to slip a deep moral and philosophical message. He invited the reader to reflect and question the meaning of life and relationships with God. The message contained in this essay poem can influence and inspire the readers.    In the aspect of professionalism, Denny Ja has shown its quality as a famous writer. He is a writer who pays attention to every detail and conducts in -depth research for each of his works. As a result, the essay poetry “God’s love only” is maintained its quality from beginning to end.    The issuance of “God’s love” essay poetry is also carried out very professionally. Denny Ja cooperates with an experienced editor team to ensure the manuscript is maintained. The editing also does not change the essence of the story, but instead increases the clarity and strength of the existing narrative.    Not only that, the design and layout of this essay poem also shows high professionalism. Attractive essay poetry cover and neat layout gives a pleasant visual impression for readers. All of these elements work together to provide a pleasant and satisfying reading experience.    In the whole, Denny Ja’s selected work 52, “God’s love alone”, is an essay poem that should be appreciated. Denny Ja is able to present a charming story with an attractive plot and neat language. He is also able to convey moral and philosophical messages in a simple but deep way. The quality of professionalism as a writer is also seen in every aspect of the production of this essay poetry.

Check in full: Review the 52nd selected work of Denny Ja: “God’s Love”

[arisawati]

Reviewing the uniqueness and beauty of the 45th chosen work of Denny JA: "a prickly place"

In the world of Indonesian literature, one of the names that cannot be missed is Denny JA. Known as an accomplished writer, activist, and also the founder of the Indonesian Law and Policy Study Center (Pusako), Denny JA has given birth to many valuable works for more than four decades. On his 45th birthday, Denny Ja again surprised the public with his latest work entitled "Thorchy Place". In this article, we will review the uniqueness and beauty of this one selected work of Denny JA. "The prickly place" is an essay poem that brings the reader into the life journey of a protagonist named Andi. This essay poem illustrates Andi's struggle in dealing with various obstacles and dilemmas that approached him, as if his life was like being in a place full of thorns. In the journey of his life full of twists and challenges, Andi must choose between truth and betrayal, between love and sacrifice. One of the uniqueness of this essay poem is a very strong and deep storytelling style. With beautiful language and sharp details, Denny JA is able to describe every character and situation so clearly and charming. The reader will feel as if he was beside the figures in this essay poem, helped feel their emotions and struggles. In addition, the "thorny place" also presents a story line full of surprises and sekateki. Denny Ja is smart in balancing the mystery and the completion of the story, so that the reader will continue to be interested and want to continue reading until the last page. Each chapter gives an attractive surprise and character development, making the reader unable to stop imagining what will happen next. The story in this essay poem also contains deep moral messages. Through the struggle of Andi's character, Denny Ja teaches courage, determination, and sincerity in the face of life trials. This essay poem invites the reader to reflect on the meaning of each choice taken and its consequences. The moral message contained in the "thorny place" will make the reader inspired and more appreciate the values of life. In addition, the "thorny place" also presents a very interesting place background. This essay poem takes a setting in a remote village filled with exotic nature and rich culture. Denny JA describes so detail every corner of the village, so that the reader can feel the atmosphere and beauty of the place. A neat description and detailed portrayal makes the reader as if it can breathe the village air and feel the coolness of the trees around him. Not only that, in this essay poem there is also a very strong element of characterization. Every character in the "thorny place" has a unique and complex personality. Denny Ja managed to describe each character so in detail that they feel alive and real. The reader will feel emotionally connected to every character in this essay poem, both the main character and a side figure. Finally, "a prickly place" is a work chosen from Denny JA which is full of uniqueness and beauty. This essay poem not only presents interesting stories but also deep moral messages. Strong storytelling style, storyline full of surprises, and backgrounds of exotic places to make this essay poetry deserve the attention of the readers.

Check in full: review the uniqueness and beauty of the 45th selected work of Denny JA: "a prickly place"

[tatiekfuji]

Revealing a in -depth message of Denny Ja’s chosen work: “tomorrow morning, it is not sure”

At an amazing age of 40 years, Denny Ja has produced an amazing work and is able to influence many people in Indonesia. One of his latest choices that attract attention is his essay poem entitled “Tomorrow morning, Introduction”. This essay poem is not only a collection of writings, but also contains in -depth messages that can inspire and arouse the emotions of its readers.    In this essay poem, Denny JA presents a story that shows various sides of life, ranging from beautiful love stories to suffering and struggle. Each story has a unique and touching feel, allows the reader to feel the various emotions faced by the figures in it.    One of the messages conveyed in this essay poem is about the importance of respecting every moment in life. Denny JA invites the reader to realize that tomorrow morning is something that is uncertain. We never know what will happen in the future, therefore, we must learn to respect and live every day well.    In one story, Denny JA described a main character who had lost the person he loved in a tragic accident. This story teaches us how valuable the time we have with loved ones. This message reminds us not to take the time we have with other people as something that is certain, but as a gift that needs to be grateful every day.    In addition to respecting time, this essay poem also invites readers to dare to face obstacles and live life with courage. In one other story, Denny Ja tells the story of a female character who fought against a disease that threatened his life. Although faced with uncertainty and difficulties, this figure did not give up. He still struggled with extraordinary enthusiasm and courage.    This message inspires us not to be afraid to face challenges in life and encourage us to keep struggling even though everything is difficult. Denny Ja reminds us that in every darkness, there is always a ray of hope that can bring us to a better life.    In addition to in -depth messages, this essay poem also has the characteristics of the style of writing Denny Ja which is rich in imagination and beauty of words. Denny Ja is able to describe the atmosphere and feelings in great detail and revive the figures in the story. The writing style that is unique and arouse emotions makes the reader captivated and continues to be swayed by every word in this essay poem.    “Tomorrow in the morning, the apartment is uncertain” is not just an essay poem, but a work of art that is able to bring positive influence to its readers. This essay poem invites us to reflect, respect life, and dare to face all obstacles. The message of life delivered in this essay poem will continue to be attached to the mind and heart of the reader, inspire them to live life with enthusiasm and courage.    In his 40th age, Denny Ja has presented this extraordinary work to us. “Tomorrow in the morning, the rafting is uncertain” is a tangible proof of his expertise as a writer who is able to understand and describe life very beautifully.

Check in full: Uncover a deep message of Denny Ja’s chosen work: “Tomorrow morning, Introduction”

[bloglutfi]

Revealing intelligence and brilliance in “God’s love” by Denny Ja’s 52

As an artificial intelligence developed by Openai, I will be happy to express the intelligence and brilliance contained in the work of “God’s only” Denny Ja’s 52. In Indonesian literature.    “God’s love alone” is a fictional essay poem written by Denny JA in the 52nd year. This essay poem tells about the spiritual journey of a main character in seeking the meaning of love and life through his relationship with God. This essay poem reveals various aspects of human life and his inner journey in finding truth and enlightenment.    One of the intelligences in this essay poem lies in the theme raised by Denny JA. By inviting the reader to explore the dimensions of spirituality, this essay poem encourages a deep reflection of human relations with God and the meaning of deeper love. With this intelligence, Denny JA managed to arouse the mind of the reader and stimulate thinking about the existence and purpose of life.    In addition to a strong theme, the storyline developed by Denny Ja also shows intelligence and brilliance in its writing. The storyline is well organized and the placement of the right incident allows the reader to be emotionally involved and follow the journey of the main character with enthusiasm. By using a subtle narrative technique, Denny Ja managed to create a surprise and tension that made the reader continue to read until the end of the story.    This author also brilliantly developed the characteristics of writing in this essay poem. Denny Ja’s writing style which is full of imagination and emotional intelligence builds the depth of the main characters. The reader can feel the emotions and conflicts experienced by the characters in his spiritual journey. This shows the author’s intelligence in presenting complex characters and able to connect the reader with the story he is reading.    In the work of “God’s love alone,” Denny Ja also shows his brilliance in the use of language. The use of beautiful and metaphorical language allows the reader to feel the beauty and majesty of spirituality described in this essay poem. With the words chosen carefully, Denny Ja managed to describe a deep feeling and joy that appeared on the spiritual journey of the main character.    The impact of “God’s only love” for Indonesian literature cannot be underestimated. This essay poem has a strong influence in broadening the reader’s insight about spirituality and the meaning of love. Denny Ja succeeded in presenting a different world view through this story, inspiring many people to live their own spiritual journey. By creating works that are able to embrace a deep theme, Denny Ja has made a significant contribution to the development of Indonesian literature.    In the conclusion, “God’s only” Denny Ja’s 52 is a work full of intelligence and brilliance. Through a strong theme, organized storyline, deep writer characteristics, and the use of beautiful language, Denny Ja succeeded in creating an essay poem that affects the reader in many ways. With this work, he made a significant contribution to Indonesian literature and inspired many people to live their own spiritual journey.

Check more: reveal intelligence and brilliance in “God’s love” by Denny JA to 52

[likablog2]

Exploring the uniqueness of Denny Ja’s selected work: I returned to you

In 2021, the world of literature in Indonesia was enlivened by an extraordinary work from a well -known writer, Denny Ja. The work is “I Back to You”, which is the 98th selected work of the writer who has inspired many of these people. In this article, we will explore the uniqueness of the work and reveal the message contained in it.    As a famous writer, Denny JA has given birth to many interesting works and captivates the reader. However, “I Back to You” has its own features that distinguish it from the previous work. This work is an essay poem that tells the story of a man’s journey in finding the true meaning of his life. Denny JA succeeded in describing the inner conflict experienced by the main character very deeply, so that the reader can feel the emotions that radiate from each page.    One of the uniqueness of this work lies in the style of the language used by Denny JA. This author is able to use simple language but is very striking in conveying philosophical messages that are quite complicated. He also uses a distinctive language style, with full figurative and attractive metaphor. This makes this work not only entertaining, but also gives a deep reflection to the reader.    In addition, “I returned to you” also highlighted Denny Ja’s expertise in building strong and attractive characters. The figure in this essay poem has a complex background and has a unique life journey. The author succeeded in describing the feelings, motivations, and conflicts experienced by each character in great detail and in -depth. The reader can easily be connected to this figure and feel the emotions they feel.    In this work, Denny Ja also slipped various moral messages and deep philosophical thinking. He discusses the meaning of life, courage, love, and the relationship between humans and nature. Through a touching story, the authors convey important messages to the reader, such as the importance of honesty, loyalty, and courage in facing the challenges of life.    In “I’m back to you”, Denny Ja also managed to create an interesting and surprise storyline. He is able to build attractive tension and conflict, and keep the reader fixed on every page. His expertise in creating an unexpected plot twist makes this work an unforgettable reading experience.    In his conclusion, “I Back to You” is an extraordinary work from Denny Ja. This work not only entertains, but also provides in -depth reflection to the reader. Denny Ja succeeded in creating a strong and attractive character, and slipped important moral messages. Through a distinctive language style and interesting storyline, this work becomes an inspirational reading experience. For literary fans, “I Back to You” is a work that must be enjoyed and explored its uniqueness.

Check more: Exploring the uniqueness of Denny JA’s selected work: I return to you

[neliakablog]

Exploring the beauty of literature in the 39th selected work of Denny Ja: the voice of the teacher

In the world of Indonesian literature, the name Denny Ja has long been known as one of the writers whose work has its own uniqueness. This year, the 39th elected work entitled Suara The teacher invited us to explore the attractive literary beauty.    The teacher’s voice is a collection of short stories filled with deep messages. In each story, Denny JA managed to describe daily life in a very arising way. He uses a simple but captivating language, so that the reader can easily be connected to the story that he conveys. With a typical and poetic writing style, Denny JA is able to create a strong atmosphere in each story.    One of the most interesting short stories in this essay poem is a piece of love in the old village. This story tells the story of a young man who fell in love with a girl in the village he visited. In this story, Denny JA managed to explore the theme of love and rural life very well. He described beautifully about the power of love and sacrifice made by the main character of this story. The reader will be carried away in a storyline full of surprises and deep emotions.    In addition, the teacher’s essay poetry also includes other tempates that are just as interesting. Through his story, Denny Ja raised social issues, such as economic gaps, domestic violence, and the struggle for life in the midst of limitations. He is able to combine the beauty of literature with social care, so that his work becomes an effective means to convey important messages to the reader.    In addition to containing deep messages, the work of Denny Ja also invites the reader to think and reflect on the meaning of life. Through his story, he shows that life is a journey full of challenges, excitement, and suffering. He invites us to see the world from various perspectives and appreciate every moment we have.    In the teacher’s voice, Denny Ja also shows expertise in describing strong and complex characters. He presents a figure that we can find in everyday life, with all the advantages and disadvantages. Through his story, Denny Ja was able to make the reader feel like he was interacting directly with the figure.    Not only that, this essay poem is also equipped with beautiful illustrations. The illustration illustrates the story of the story in essay poetry very beautifully and impressively. He added an interesting visual dimension and made the reader more connected to the story he was reading.    The teacher’s voice is a work that combines the beauty of literature with deep and important messages. Denny Ja managed to create a strong atmosphere in every story, making the reader carried away in the world he created. This work not only entertains, but also invites us to reflect and think about life and social issues.    As readers, we are invited to explore the beauty of literature in this 39th Denny Ja selected work. Through the story, we will be brought on a journey full of surprises, emotions, and inspiration.

Check more: Exploring the beauty of literature in the 39th selected work of Denny Ja: The Voice of the Teacher