.png.cab23c550d609f4aeab037f28fc55c9d.png)
Doctor Oger
-
Posts
336 -
Joined
-
Last visited
Content Type
Forums
Stories
- Stories
- Story Series
- Story Worlds
- Story Collections
- Story Chapters
- Chapter Comments
- Story Reviews
- Story Comments
- Stories Edited
- Stories Beta'd
Blogs
Store
Help Center
Writing
Gallery
Events
Everything posted by Doctor Oger
-
We were in a hotel room with a girl of ten to twelve years we were supposed to watch. I think we were supposed to be some kind of guardians to her, parents of a sort. She wanted to go out and do something but wasn't allowed at first. When I got back from a failed attempt at a get-together to play a boardgame with school friends (who hadn't all shown up), we had got a package. The parcel had no description of the contents on it, nor a label specifying the sender. So we turned it around and looke
-
We followed the trail of the two racing horses through the muddy path in this park, around a bend on a grassy hill with a white house, and from there they went on up another gentle slope into the small forest. We stopped there at the bend and looked up at the people who came down the broad gravel path towards us. A pensionist was the main part of them, a man in his sixties with mean humour in his face. We wanted to continue following the riders, but it was unwise to move quickly now, because the
-
Very well done.
-
"Why do I even bother?" She tipped her head back with an exasperated sigh. "Honoured Lady, if I may..." tried the captain. Her bored sideways nod with only slightly rolling eyes bade him go on. He nodded curtly and turned from her to the assembled rabble. The whole dozen of them were all supposed to be chieftains and seasoned commanders, but the Honoured Lady was clearly dissatisfied. "Maybe our Honoured Lady has not been clear enough on this: The marsh people disappear by noon the day after
-
(Everything) Everything in my world is in his eyes Everything of my world even the skies. Whatever I am, he scries. It is a wet haven A crystal hub, polished If anything was ever owned by anyone, then it's my world my waking reality, crowned by bright blue swirls that choke me in a waterfall of my own making, everything runs out of my eyes I'm never waking up. I'm never waking up. I promise. To him, my dream My waking reality I deem just his, only his, and asleep I am
-
Shunning The Present, Revering The Past This merry-go-round is turning too fast It's hard to hold on, with only one hand We're hardly conscious but we're having a blast Without real substance, just friend and a friend. Blasted away is most of your mind Blasting away are boots and your fist The strangers they find are responding in kind And you hardly notice, through silver-blue mist. Let's meet up sometime And have more than a chat A real talk, a showing of mind Let's meet u
-
Blush of iris There’s silk in the air. A sort of thin veil void of weather. An ethereal cloth, parted everywhere where rustling leaves, in waving rush, streak it with a wooden blush, and petals with a gentle tint stir it softly in the wind. Fluidly it melts back together. When sound ripples through it, a rushing faint and viscous, the satin caress of it, softer than the breeze, is slightly reminiscent of his voice, when he whispers over my skin, the life into it, strong as an ol
-
Whichever direction Musings to underestimate Its Vibrancy a Sparkle in It a
-
Well done. This is sound and round, but I would not say no to a sequel. There is one 'and' too many in one sentence: "He turned, walked to the door, and and left."
-
"Quick, call a healer!" Something tugged at his left sleeve. Teague looked down. A girl was staring at him with a horrified look. She pointed down the soft slope of the hill they were standing on, towards a small gaggle of children leaning over one that was lying in the grass. Part of the kid's robe looked singed. A cursory glance over the scene by the walls, the herb garden and down at the beach confirmed Teague's suspicion that every able mage had their hands full at this moment, so he nudge
-
More of C's letterbits
Doctor Oger commented on Doctor Oger's story chapter in More of C's letterbits
Since I know the whole story, the gaps that I've purposely ripped into it are not mysterious to me, and I don't need the parts I've left standing as beacons to guide me. So now I'm curious what they make the gaps fill up with in your mind. -
[...] and you're on a quest for your handsome mind, it couldn't be better! Well, it could. But this is still awesome! I think a lot of you as well, and you were also the only motif I could think of when I stared at this canvas. "And so it shall be," methought, so thus my sketches are of you, with lots of black, dark blue, branches, and white patches for glinting. An act, in your own mind. Which I don't know as well as yourself, obviously, but I'll put into it everything I've come to know of it s
-
The Quest I will start at Labia to travel and explore and when I know and love it there head south to wander more To see and feel the golden plains or white in glaring sun the dew there looks like rain's remains that I set foot upon I know I'll love their glistening sheen it makes them look delicious delectable as I have seen yet not very nutritious For while this dew is appetizing it is not all I need I can feel my hunger rising for more sating feed The destinati
-
I am very suprised. And soothed and grateful. Thank you.
-
[...] There, right back at you, waves crushing against the cliffs, dripping salt water, getting worn off and rising steep and hollowed at places above the curling white-foamed dark water and sharp ragged rocks, rising up high to some patches of long weeds, and still higher up to heather and grass, flat except for a few rounded boulders that have been there for centuries, if not millennia, like small menhirs, because the dark sea below, the rustling and soft scent of the heather and the sweeping
-
I'll take the congratulations with gratitude and the reassurance (not sure if that is reassuring) that clever people, depressed people, sensitive people, people with a conscience and generally people worth a damn have that at least in episodes throughout their lives. Right. Not reassuring. Thank you.
-
Slave Mind Distractive, cluttered spheres numb and dumb and dull acute minds, chafe the skull, and wear down all their gears. Things become inexpressible here, not because what they are isn't clear, but because they are too fast for words out of you. Your mind comes in last. A waste of time that claims routine, a waste of focus and energy, more, a waste of attention on a pointless chore of all the good fuel your mind has in store - your intellect turns lean. Where there
-
Perceive I perceive, by your eye, a silvery speck in the sky and science becomes poetry when thoughts of you flit by. Not even consciously there, it pierces sharply through air as light speeding through space so fast, escapes my stone stare. It's directed, not at your face, but some wordy, lettery maze, when this bloody glitter hits home and charmingly scatters mind's gaze.
-
The Concavation/The Affection Absence
Doctor Oger commented on Doctor Oger's story chapter in The Concavation/The Affection Absence
Thank you and you're perfectly right. And thank you for the insightful review. -
The Concavation/The Affection Absence
Doctor Oger commented on Doctor Oger's story chapter in The Concavation/The Affection Absence
As I strive to do with every other poem. Do cry. In all seriousness, thank you very much for the review. -
The Concavation /The Affection Absence A hollow orgasm in bed with morning birds from the left then a foul taste in his throat was the sole event that led him to wake, his soul bereft of all but the old load. He was not alone but he was by himself with shades in his mind that were imprints of a man who never seems as dangerous as what he is, an air god, kind in a way and always cold. In a narrow fold of reality, he thinks there must be room to hold all the precious little thi
-
Thank you very much! I remember that when writing this, by the end of stanza three I had stuff to put into it that wouldn't go well into these stiff quatrains. They're neat and quaint (which I like) but too square for some things. I'm glad they and the flowing bit at the end still work together. And thank you for the folk/medieval remark.
-
Genius Loci Sense of reality through placid grey, with calmness of detachment as well, lie on the comfortless foray of stories far too dark to tell. But in the same dead green lies peace, the tired calm of resignation. For when the pulse of youth has ceased, thus stops the war for liberation. Freedom in a forest is the same as anywhere. It means an apathetic “nothing left to lose,“ and when there‘s neither foul nor fair it hardly matters what you choose. The mist of mind
-
Good work.
