Charlton_Ghosh
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I am a student with a passion for playing the piano, writing stories, and photo-shopping pictures.
Charlton_Ghosh
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Writing with Authenticity 100-300 words. No rhymes accepted.
Written by Charlton_Ghosh

Major Rest

I listen to music as I write.

I do this because it helps keep my mind busy.

I feel that the music is some how an anchor

that keeps me in the here and now.

I can of course exist without music,

but I find it much harder to concentrate.

I think this has to do with something called ADD,

but I know nothing of psychological titles.

And I care even less for them.

Call a thing what you will,

but a rose by any other name will ultimately smell like a rose.

Where was I? Ah yes, music.

I use it as an anchor,

whether I am writing, working, procrastinating, or playing music for the sake of music.

I use it as a means of keeping my subroutines busy so that my mind can be free.

I'm scared of my mind. I'm afraid to venture there alone.

I don't want to enter into my subconscious,

only to realize that my consciousness was a dream.

Music keeps my mind busy,

it tells my subconscious to concentrate on it,

On the beats,

on the base line,

on the repetitive wub wubs.

I can't listen to a piece that repeats over and over,

I need it to progress and change.

At the same time, I need the beat to go:

boom

  boom

    boom

all the same through out.

I like change, but I hold onto the past.

I like looking at new things, but only a single set of glasses.

I like repetition only if it ushers in a new theme.

I like new themes only if they hold onto the repetition.

These are all things that music does for my subconscious while I listen. I don't even have to actively listen to the music.

I can concentrate on writing...

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Writing with Authenticity 100-300 words. No rhymes accepted.
Written by Charlton_Ghosh
Major Rest
I listen to music as I write.
I do this because it helps keep my mind busy.
I feel that the music is some how an anchor
that keeps me in the here and now.
I can of course exist without music,
but I find it much harder to concentrate.

I think this has to do with something called ADD,
but I know nothing of psychological titles.
And I care even less for them.
Call a thing what you will,
but a rose by any other name will ultimately smell like a rose.

Where was I? Ah yes, music.
I use it as an anchor,
whether I am writing, working, procrastinating, or playing music for the sake of music.
I use it as a means of keeping my subroutines busy so that my mind can be free.

I'm scared of my mind. I'm afraid to venture there alone.
I don't want to enter into my subconscious,
only to realize that my consciousness was a dream.
Music keeps my mind busy,
it tells my subconscious to concentrate on it,
On the beats,
on the base line,
on the repetitive wub wubs.

I can't listen to a piece that repeats over and over,
I need it to progress and change.
At the same time, I need the beat to go:
boom
  boom
    boom
all the same through out.
I like change, but I hold onto the past.
I like looking at new things, but only a single set of glasses.
I like repetition only if it ushers in a new theme.
I like new themes only if they hold onto the repetition.

These are all things that music does for my subconscious while I listen. I don't even have to actively listen to the music.

I can concentrate on writing...
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Describe freedom in 15 words... with one caveat: you can't use the words free, freedom, freeing, freest or freer (even in the title).
Written by Charlton_Ghosh

Opportunity

It is the ability to roll out of bed to the smell of fresh coffee.

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Describe freedom in 15 words... with one caveat: you can't use the words free, freedom, freeing, freest or freer (even in the title).
Written by Charlton_Ghosh
Opportunity
It is the ability to roll out of bed to the smell of fresh coffee.
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Write a creative 'Roses are Red' poem. Change it up, make it funny, sad, romantic, scary, etc.! :)
Written by Charlton_Ghosh in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Violets are Purple... -_-

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

Drop the bass,

My paper is due.

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

Things make no sense,

When you have a flu.

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

The second is false,

The the first is true.

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Write a creative 'Roses are Red' poem. Change it up, make it funny, sad, romantic, scary, etc.! :)
Written by Charlton_Ghosh in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Violets are Purple... -_-
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Drop the bass,
My paper is due.

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Things make no sense,
When you have a flu.

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
The second is false,
The the first is true.
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The greatest sacrifice
Written by Charlton_Ghosh

Subjectively or Objectively?

A subjective answer might be any entry in response to this challenge.

An objective answer is essentially impossible to find. (Unless of course you have knowledge of all objective truths. In which case I would like to ask you a question or two...)

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The greatest sacrifice
Written by Charlton_Ghosh
Subjectively or Objectively?

A subjective answer might be any entry in response to this challenge.

An objective answer is essentially impossible to find. (Unless of course you have knowledge of all objective truths. In which case I would like to ask you a question or two...)
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Written by Charlton_Ghosh

I, Catholic

I am a Catholic

I believe in God

To me, it means to be free

I choose to follow the commands of an organization,

One that tells me how to live the best life I can.

I am under the watchful eye of a judging Deity,

One that made humans and cares enough about them to give them free will.

I'm living my own life the way I want,

I simply choose to follow the commands of the Catholic Church

I don't have to gain a deity's approval. But I choose to do just that anyways. (Free will is wonderful)

I'm doing my best for me. And I wish the best for you,

because I'm not an a**h*le.

This planet has existed since God sent it spinning in space,

Humans have been around for only as long as God has wanted them around.

Life is far too short to be judgmental

I'm not gonna judge people for being part of a religion

I'm not gonna judge people for where they call home

I'm not gonna judge people for the color of their skin

I'm not gonna judge people for whom they hold in their heart.

But I can judge if a person's actions are sins.

I am not gonna be some extremist who blindly follows. I look for the truth and find it good, so I follow it.

This is how everyone should live, as individuals.

Besides, if God is real and He put in the time to create a world so perfectly and delicately built as ours, He wouldn't care for His most precious creations?

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Written by Charlton_Ghosh
I, Catholic
I am a Catholic
I believe in God
To me, it means to be free
I choose to follow the commands of an organization,
One that tells me how to live the best life I can.
I am under the watchful eye of a judging Deity,
One that made humans and cares enough about them to give them free will.
I'm living my own life the way I want,
I simply choose to follow the commands of the Catholic Church
I don't have to gain a deity's approval. But I choose to do just that anyways. (Free will is wonderful)
I'm doing my best for me. And I wish the best for you,
because I'm not an a**h*le.
This planet has existed since God sent it spinning in space,
Humans have been around for only as long as God has wanted them around.
Life is far too short to be judgmental
I'm not gonna judge people for being part of a religion
I'm not gonna judge people for where they call home
I'm not gonna judge people for the color of their skin
I'm not gonna judge people for whom they hold in their heart.
But I can judge if a person's actions are sins.
I am not gonna be some extremist who blindly follows. I look for the truth and find it good, so I follow it.
This is how everyone should live, as individuals.
Besides, if God is real and He put in the time to create a world so perfectly and delicately built as ours, He wouldn't care for His most precious creations?
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You become what you think about.
Written by Charlton_Ghosh

I have become my thoughts...

In my place are three big piles of flotsam. Shall we dig through them? Yes... we might as well.

First of all, we have the musical instruments. Summed up, there would be a nine foot grand piano buried under a pile of standard orchestral instruments. And I would suspect that aside from the kettle drums, drum kits, upright basses, bassoons, trumpets, saxophones,  cellos, etc., a few "world" instruments would make it into the mix. Certainly there would be some tablas, udu drums, sitars, tamburas, and Native American flutes. Oh and I almost forgot the Fujara. Let's place that one next to the tablas.

With the instruments out of the way, the books are next on our hands. We'll find many deep philosophical (and indeed, religious) books, such as those authored by Thomas Aquinas, C.S. Lewis, and G.K. Chesterton. We'll find a few science fiction books in the mix too. These are fewer in number but you will find names like, Lois McMaster Bujold, Orson Scott Card, and varied authors of the Star Wars expanded universe. And of course you have the fantasy fiction books; these books whose authors' names (with mine perhaps pretentiously placed among them) are too numerous to count.

The third pile of items that take up the majority of my thoughts, would be electronics; computers, servers, speakers, hard drives, graphics cards, CPU's and quad-copters (to name a few items). In this pile you will also find the many digital items that comprise my electronic adventures: Blender, the Adobe software suite, Prose, Hearthstone, Portal, etc.

I guess there is also be a fourth pile. This one is comprised of work related items, school related items, and other random things that I think about out of the necessity of being human. (vegetation, mastication, copulation, etc.)

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You become what you think about.
Written by Charlton_Ghosh
I have become my thoughts...
In my place are three big piles of flotsam. Shall we dig through them? Yes... we might as well.

First of all, we have the musical instruments. Summed up, there would be a nine foot grand piano buried under a pile of standard orchestral instruments. And I would suspect that aside from the kettle drums, drum kits, upright basses, bassoons, trumpets, saxophones,  cellos, etc., a few "world" instruments would make it into the mix. Certainly there would be some tablas, udu drums, sitars, tamburas, and Native American flutes. Oh and I almost forgot the Fujara. Let's place that one next to the tablas.

With the instruments out of the way, the books are next on our hands. We'll find many deep philosophical (and indeed, religious) books, such as those authored by Thomas Aquinas, C.S. Lewis, and G.K. Chesterton. We'll find a few science fiction books in the mix too. These are fewer in number but you will find names like, Lois McMaster Bujold, Orson Scott Card, and varied authors of the Star Wars expanded universe. And of course you have the fantasy fiction books; these books whose authors' names (with mine perhaps pretentiously placed among them) are too numerous to count.

The third pile of items that take up the majority of my thoughts, would be electronics; computers, servers, speakers, hard drives, graphics cards, CPU's and quad-copters (to name a few items). In this pile you will also find the many digital items that comprise my electronic adventures: Blender, the Adobe software suite, Prose, Hearthstone, Portal, etc.

I guess there is also be a fourth pile. This one is comprised of work related items, school related items, and other random things that I think about out of the necessity of being human. (vegetation, mastication, copulation, etc.)
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Write a humorous limerick.
Chapter 14 of Collection of Poetry
Written by Charlton_Ghosh in portal Comedy

A Limerick

I listen to music so fine,

Sorta like sipping good wine,

The flute goes tweet,

The percussion is sweet,

 Let's all dance in a line.

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Write a humorous limerick.
Chapter 14 of Collection of Poetry
Written by Charlton_Ghosh in portal Comedy
A Limerick
I listen to music so fine,
Sorta like sipping good wine,
The flute goes tweet,
The percussion is sweet,
 Let's all dance in a line.
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When you "Heart" another's work, what percentage of you are liking the quality of writing versus agreeing/identifying with the message versus showing support to a favored writer?
Written by Charlton_Ghosh

. . . . . 0% 25% 50% 75% 100%

QUALITY:*****************************

MESSAGE:*******************

SUPPORT:*******************

I realize that this would add up to a total of 175.4% but that is how much I love a piece when I press the <3 button.

What it all means: I am more generous with Prosers that I know. Probably because in general I am more likely to identify with their message. But over all, I base it off of quality of writing.

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When you "Heart" another's work, what percentage of you are liking the quality of writing versus agreeing/identifying with the message versus showing support to a favored writer?
Written by Charlton_Ghosh
. . . . . 0% 25% 50% 75% 100%
QUALITY:*****************************

MESSAGE:*******************

SUPPORT:*******************



I realize that this would add up to a total of 175.4% but that is how much I love a piece when I press the <3 button.

What it all means: I am more generous with Prosers that I know. Probably because in general I am more likely to identify with their message. But over all, I base it off of quality of writing.
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Talk someone out of suicide
Chapter 11 of Collection of Poetry
Written by Charlton_Ghosh

Imagine if You Will

Imagine if you will,

A house filled with light,

Small candles everywhere,

Making each room bright.

Each candle is important,

It lights its own spot,

If you loose one,

It will appear as a nasty blot.

The only point of the house,

Is to hold the candles close,

So that they keep each other warm,

All in good company, I s'pose.

As soon as one goes out,

the room loses a little flair,

Another will come up somewhere else,

But without quite the same air.

Each little candle is itself,

In the sense that it is unique,

If a candle goes out,

It can't be relit; this is quite bleak.

All candles must eventually burn out,

This is sad and true,

But there is a time for this to happen,

Don't let it worry you.

Be far more worried about those,

Who decide it isn't worth it,

They take a knife to themselves,

And cut a terrible split.

Their wax drains away,

The wick slowly fades,

The candle can be no more;

Its last song was one of blades.

The candle will surely die,

It is a loss that the others must bare,

To see one of them cut away,

To see it lose its air.

The others will carry the weight,

Thinking they could have done more,

But ultimately it is your choice,

To walk through Death's Door.

Nothing can stop you,

these are just words.

But I would have you listen,

To these feeble snowbirds.

They are trying to help,

Please drop the knife,

Step down from the ledge,

Flush those pills, and live your life.

It will be a great loss,

If your candle dies,

Who will sit with me,

To laugh and munch fries.

You see, it's the small things in life,

That are worth living for,

You're not alone,

Please step away from that Door.

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Talk someone out of suicide
Chapter 11 of Collection of Poetry
Written by Charlton_Ghosh
Imagine if You Will
Imagine if you will,
A house filled with light,
Small candles everywhere,
Making each room bright.

Each candle is important,
It lights its own spot,
If you loose one,
It will appear as a nasty blot.

The only point of the house,
Is to hold the candles close,
So that they keep each other warm,
All in good company, I s'pose.

As soon as one goes out,
the room loses a little flair,
Another will come up somewhere else,
But without quite the same air.

Each little candle is itself,
In the sense that it is unique,
If a candle goes out,
It can't be relit; this is quite bleak.

All candles must eventually burn out,
This is sad and true,
But there is a time for this to happen,
Don't let it worry you.

Be far more worried about those,
Who decide it isn't worth it,
They take a knife to themselves,
And cut a terrible split.

Their wax drains away,
The wick slowly fades,
The candle can be no more;
Its last song was one of blades.

The candle will surely die,
It is a loss that the others must bare,
To see one of them cut away,
To see it lose its air.

The others will carry the weight,
Thinking they could have done more,
But ultimately it is your choice,
To walk through Death's Door.

Nothing can stop you,
these are just words.
But I would have you listen,
To these feeble snowbirds.

They are trying to help,
Please drop the knife,
Step down from the ledge,
Flush those pills, and live your life.

It will be a great loss,
If your candle dies,
Who will sit with me,
To laugh and munch fries.

You see, it's the small things in life,
That are worth living for,
You're not alone,
Please step away from that Door.
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Write something that invokes the feeling of love in your heart
Written by Charlton_Ghosh in portal Romance & Erotica

These Wishes I have.

I hope to one day be a husband. To love and care for that special woman I hope to one day meet. I wish to be able to work hard so that I can provide a house for her and a family. I wish to be a protector, someone strong enough to stand between my family and the world and shout "If you want to hurt them, you'll have to kill me!"

I hope to one day be a father. To raise a family with that special woman. I want to see our children grow. I want to be able to sit with children in my arms, so that I can read The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe to them, as my father once did for me. I wish to take them camping; to be out in the woods late at night, watching shooting stars and counting fireflies in the distance. I wish to light fireworks with my sons. I wish to teach them how to be men. I wish to drink tea with my daughters, I want to be a man that they will be proud to call father.

I wish to share my love for music with them. I want to watch as they grow and prosper in the world. I want to see their own families grow around me. I wish to one day see young children who call me grandpa. Children who perhaps carry on traditions that I learned from my parents and grandparents.

This love is hardly sexual, but it is a feeling of love I hope to one day feel and not just fantasize about.

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Write something that invokes the feeling of love in your heart
Written by Charlton_Ghosh in portal Romance & Erotica
These Wishes I have.
I hope to one day be a husband. To love and care for that special woman I hope to one day meet. I wish to be able to work hard so that I can provide a house for her and a family. I wish to be a protector, someone strong enough to stand between my family and the world and shout "If you want to hurt them, you'll have to kill me!"

I hope to one day be a father. To raise a family with that special woman. I want to see our children grow. I want to be able to sit with children in my arms, so that I can read The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe to them, as my father once did for me. I wish to take them camping; to be out in the woods late at night, watching shooting stars and counting fireflies in the distance. I wish to light fireworks with my sons. I wish to teach them how to be men. I wish to drink tea with my daughters, I want to be a man that they will be proud to call father.

I wish to share my love for music with them. I want to watch as they grow and prosper in the world. I want to see their own families grow around me. I wish to one day see young children who call me grandpa. Children who perhaps carry on traditions that I learned from my parents and grandparents.

This love is hardly sexual, but it is a feeling of love I hope to one day feel and not just fantasize about.
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