Writing

[Twinblades713]

I know all you Heralds out there must write a helluvalot more than what's just in the Library and stuff. Anybody got some writing they wanna pony up for the rest of us to read just here?

To get the ball rolling, here's one of my first poems. Comment, criticize (constructively), and add your own if you like. Let's see if I can't get this to go somewhere, I love reading poems.

Why is it that no one knows a troubled soul?

Screaming for help so silently such calmness when so out of control.

Deliberately randomly, traveling through nowhere.

Constantly late, it has time to spare,

To wallow in misery at the finest sight,

No consolation from the greatest blight.

It finds the living, living life.

Vicariously, it hides its strife.

Shadow, Why do you wander?

It continues to wander to eternity,

It doesn’t walk though, hurriedly.

It ambles in its dark wraithform,

In the calm before the storm.

But the storm, it never comes,

The eye forever, it only hums.

Shadow, Why do you wander?

Through eternal time, it draws no breath.

Without other places presented to it,

It despondently embraces death,

Wish as it might, it cannot quit.

For this is all there is to do,

To be, to exist, to be some more,

Indifferently, it watches you,

No feeling, nothing, in its core.

Shadow, Why do you wander?

[Imoutgoodbye]

You want poetry? All right....I've got 70 poems and I'll try to post one a day.

Winter's Fire

by David N. Zimmerman II

Oh, how the cold wind does blow and growl.

Like a great winter bear on the prowl.

Let's stay inside the house, in front of the fire.

Wrapped in a quilted blanket, let passions burn higher.

Outside the snow glides in erratic whirls,

the softness of your lips makes my senses twirl.

My hand gently caresses your voluminous hair

and I can't help but let my feelings be laid bare.

You nuzzle my neck, I gently nibble your ear.

There's no one I'd rather love, no one else I'd want here.

I pull you closer, breathing in your essence.

Heavily panting, you whisper how you long for my presence.

We lustfully roll around on the floor,

neither sure which one wants the other more.

You moan your devotion, I breathily profess mine.

A bead of sweat drops from my chest to yours, rolling down a perfect line.

The sun rises as we lay in each other's arms.

I'd give my life before I let you come to harm.

I watch you breathe as I, too, slowly fall asleep.

Love's affection that runs so deep.

[a-guitarist]

Forevermore

G.H.Meixner

This time It's gone, this lover's brawn,

forevermore this halo I dawn Upon My horn'ed Head.

This time I trust, a strong mistrust

forevermore this Lover's lust within My Blackend heart.

But Further more, I do Adore the beating of your heart

To which I implore, forevermore, to stay this wicked sort.

forget not I, Forget not me in this land of Ministry

that which that comes is That, that's done and can never be forgot.

In times like these, of begging pleas,

forevermore in "god's" Decree we wander off but lost.

At Times Like this, of raise'ed fists,

Forevermore, forgotten Trysts on lover's lips.

but now I go, for that I know, the Sweetness of your Lips

To which I glow, a burning Show, to stay so very close

For now I write what I can't say in this passing day to day.

for now It's Gone, this Lover's Brawn and it is all but lost.

So please not I, I do but die among the cloudy skies

so that I may find a home upon this thorny earth.

curdled Mirth and hidden worth are what greet you on your path

through thoughtless days and strong malaise and painful wonder whys

So please but you, you Are but who, who walked Those miles in my shoes

so that You may find The reason why I choose to shut you out.

But Shout and Yell and Cry and Doubt about what you Do find

For no matter How much you Beg and plea that is still what I Must Do.

I suck.

a-g

[Imoutgoodbye]

A-G, you don't suck. I like it. It's as broken and twisted as it's supposed to convey....the poem is wonderful. My next poem I'll break out is entirely prose...

[Twinblades713]

I actually really like poems that don't rhyme so much because I can't write one that doesn't. Hehe, I'm glad I got such a quick response.

I went home one day after school pissed at someone for something political. This is suppose to be a rap-ish type of poem/song lyrics. It's quite unfinished. I ran out of steam and went to bed. Hehe

To deflate how angry it sounds, (though I was angry when I wrote it) it's attacking hypocrisy in those who show it. I hate hypocrites and people who have opinion's that insult and demean others while they themselves do nothing to better the world.

Cheers!

We all get mad at the world,

At our leaders

Call them cheaters

Liars, wife beaters.

Anything to get them off the stage,

Next candidate up to hate,

Why do we even have a president?

When all it seems we ever do is resent,

Who we vote in

Then start to spin

The truth on them,

We damn them,

Ram them

Do whatever to condemn.

‘Cause no one really wants to be told what to do,

You wanna live free

You want what you,

Want cause all we really care about is ourselves,

See all the lawless locked up in cells,

And say “Damn thieves, it serves ‘em right”

Then find a wallet on the ground, and squeal in delight

For all the money that you don’t plan to give back,

And keep on walking as you talk your smack.

Hypocrisy is unknown to few,

Someone else’ll take the heat?

What are you to do?

It’s not like you knew.

And that guy was there too,

So it must be true.

You weren’t the one who stuck up the store,

Just take a few CD’s and you’re out the door.

So you’re paralyzed

Seein’ if you can rationalize,

Analyze the situation,

See how much time that buys,

Before you’re at the train station,

Or skippin town, hitchhiking,

But if you know you’re not guilty,

Then why you hiding?

EDIT: By the way a-g, that's a great poem.

[a-guitarist]

The thing is, well, I don't know.

I find poetry that follows the "aabbccdd..." or "ababcdcd..." schemes to be thoughtless and boring. Consequently, I find 99% of free verse poetry to be nothing that an eight year old couldn't do with a paragraph and random line breaks. Unless the poetry grabs me with something unique from the start, it's all Byron to me.

But, since you liked it, something a little more typical of my stuff....

Forget Me Not

G.H.Meixner

Come to me, Sweetness, Glee

Tremble Slowly, Come to me.

it hurts to please, It hurts to be- Touched So affectionately.

this hurts Me too, you turn blue

Choking you, this Hurts me too.

you cry out loud, I cry In shroud-ed Disclosure to the crowd.

push away, Your last day

a price to pay, push away

My Arms are strong, your's Are weak, So here We are, cheek to cheek.

Convulsing, Your body sings

it's tune rings, convulsing.

You writhe and Bleed, And now my Seed, I find myself lost in greed.

Forget me not, your body Stops,

In sandlots, Forget me not.

Above the dirt piled high, my Two eyes both run dry.

A friend of mine wrote an amazing poem, which honestly made me fall in love with her before we met. We met, and my childish afflictions (well, read, geekish, I was in college) were captivated by her beauty. Too bad she's gone off the freaking deep end and only calls me from NYC when she's drunk and coked the eff out... But... the poem had an amazing line in it to end it...

"Byron is a corpse, and poetry should be violent." and it started the piece with calling the person she was responding to with this poem "a tired, dickless, napkin writer."

Basically, I agree with her assumptions. Love poetry has been done. It's been pointlessly swooned over. It's been done over and over again. It takes quite a lot for me to be impressed, or captivated, or feel something from words... so how do you get someone like me to "feel it"? You f**king kick me in the literary testicles, bite my creative neck, and gouge my artistic eye.

Poetry about "every day" things is the same thing, really.

Go deep into human nature, and you'll find that at our cores (after we've grown out of the altruistic phase of life that all children come with), you're an angry, sexual monster.

Shock me. Tell me about the demons in your soul. Tell me about that dark desire you had while watching the high school girls climb off the bus in gym shorts. Tell me about wanting to slice your throat and stick your fingers inside just to find out what it feels like to be one with yourself. Tell me something you've never told anyone else, open your heart. Let if flow. Be f**cking honest.

Just don't freaking come to me and go, "I wrote this poem about someone I love." and have it be "Native Tongue, through her voice a song is sung. Sit and stare, while this goddess plays with her hair. etc. etc. etc." (one of mine from high school). It's trite and pointless.

But, don't come to me with some off the wall, shock and awe poem you spewed together just to draw said response from the audience. "Stupid sh*t a**hole f*ck, do you need a d*ck to suck?" (open line from an early one from highschool called, "The most offensive poem in the world.)

But, what it all boils down to is this: I'm a very different "poet", I hate the term "writer" and "poet" and "artist", as just about everyone I've ever met that labels themselves as such are talentless hacks that can't string a sentences, feeling, or thought together. They think that they have to live a certain way to be great at what they do, and they seek out fame.

Art isn't about being famous, and even less so poetry.

Anyways, to end my rant....

Post your stuff. Keep it going, keep working on it. Don't expect anyone to think you're amazing. But do it differently. That is why I say I suck at this. What am I doing differently? My set up is the same, the subject is different. I've offended people with my poetry, I've shocked, I've made people violently angry... what good is that, really? It isn't.

I dunno. I hate most poetry, most of all my own. But I still share it.

a-g

ps: Sorry about this post. I just got done with a performance that rocked the audiences socks off. I haven't played a song with this guy in years, we practice a few songs for 30 minutes and then proceed to knock them dead. I'm charged.

EDIT: My opinions don't reflect your skill. Please don't take offense to what I've said, it wasn't directed at any writers sharing. It was just a rant for the sake of ranting.

[Twinblades713]

Dude, that was the best rant I've ever heard. I really liked that and it inspired me to write some more. Hehe, you're poems suck, and so do mine, and so do Valek's! Nobody can write anything good, which is why I'm glad we're all sharing. WHo wants to read a line of "quality" poetry? Not me. Hehe, I find that I like personal writing way, WAY more than anything made public, published and produced. In every game forum I've been to, I've started or participated in a post/section like this. I'm going to keep putting stuff up. I look forward to more.

This is a very different style from what I usually do.

Writer’s Block

I find

The time

To rhyme

Whenever

Wherever

However

It’s sublime

And clever

But I’m

Gonna never

Climb

To the top

But my mind

Will not ever

Stop

I see the weather

And drop

Ever-

Ything and plop

Down at that time

And write

But I might

Get the block

But I fight

To remember

The snow

In December

It’s white

But I know

That so

Many Write

About December

Or November

So a light

Bulb in my head

An ember

So red

Or a Kite

How it flows

Or a plant

How it grows

But I can’t

I am fed

Up with this

I clench my fist

But hold my wrist

This is

What I do

Enough said

I sped

Through

Swing and a miss

I won’t rant

Or bother you

Anymore.

[Raargant]

Hephaestus' Lament

I am old now, tired and worn,

A fearful sight to behold if any cared to,

Though even in youth I was unsightly.

Once, in an era faded past myth,

We were mighty, my family and I.

When lightning crackled, men made obeisance unto my father.

When the sun rose, men bowed to my brother.

And when love blossomed, men swore by my wife,

Beautiful, treacherous slut though she was.

My father, the Thunderer, was the first to go.

I still remember his face when he found

That man had taken the mysteries of his Thunderbolt,

Stolen his magic,

His mystery,

His power.

Such pain on his face. Such anguish.

A look of utter defeat.

One by one we faded

Into the void from which even Gods do not escape.

Grieving for our lost flocks,

Slain by indifference,

By disinterest,

By irrelevance,

Until only I remained.

The Lamed One. The Cripple.

I was never loved to begin with and thus

I survive.

The time for we Gods has long since passed.

Now mortals ride the winds,

Part the waters,

Summon the flames,

And shake the earth,

With cunning artifice ten thousand times

More intricate than even my own.

Truly, there is no more place for us.

But we are not alone in our exile.

Who amongst you remembers the might of divine Herakles,

Who with godlike might

forced even Thanatos into submission?

Or the rage of wrothful Akhilleus,

slayer of ten thousand men?

Guileful Odysseus, well-beloved of my sister?

Noble Perseus, Gorgon-slayer?

Or gentle Orpheus, father of song,

Whose sweet melody charmed the cold heart of Hades himself.

You have slain them, mortals,

As surely as you have slain us.

You have cast us down,

Set yourselves up,

And in doing so

Destroyed the best of yourselves as well.

The boiling blood which flowed

Through Jason and his Argonauts

Has stilled,

Their courage and skill replaced

By cunning and craft.

For powerful, lifeless toys of metal

You have sacrificed much indeed.

Your power is great, and yet...

Whom amongst you can move faster than Atalanta?

Lift more weight than Ajax?

Shoot farther than Orion?

Or weave cloth finer than that which Arachne might make?

Whom amongst you can match them?

Whom?!

I am exhausted.

I close my eyes.

My time has come at last.

I go to sleep

And join them.

My father.

My mother.

My siblings.

And your heroes.

This world is yours now, mortals,

But we did not bequeath it unto you.

You took it with the power

Which you traded your legends away for.

And as I fade away, I wish you the best.

May your exchange have been worth it.

[J.Twendrist]

Hey Raargant, are you still working on your story?

[Aulian]

I am absolutely in love with ancient roman/greek mythology and that Raar, was absolutely brilliant.

[The Professor]

I have been very impressed with all of you......so much imagination....

Such Need of Love

Why me, ask I, with the bitterness that it brings, for this love has surely taken my wits from me, and, in that, I grieve. May it not come again, as always, in the end, such love will leave. Protest all measure of that, I do, yet still, I find, I am a victim of my condition with no love to receive. So, I shall, for now, stand my ground, cause, in the end, love will deceive.

[Iconz]

I wrote this like ten mins ago... be rough... cuz i like it rough...

Cower before me for I siege castles

I am dashing, loving and brave

I am the carefree soul without hastles

I am the strict Overlord that whips the slave

Some days I stand naught but three feet high

Yet my giant reach extends above to the Gods

Do you not see my ears are within each eye

And in my palm I wield the holiest of rods

I strike down criminals with reckless abandon

I am the menacing thief in broad daylight

A heart of darkness you cannot even fathom

The prince of blood that stalks the night

I am not the demon that plagues your existance

Do not deny my love of nature's beauty

When you hear me utter a cryptic sentence

Know that I am but a beast fulfilling his duty

I must endure for I find patience in solitude

The assassin of assasssins in your nightmare

The granter of armor reassuring your fortitude

I will resurrect the hatred I know is there

Let me hear the call of battle, yet I seek peace

Even the smallest weapon I refuse to wield

Allow me instead to write and sing a masterpiece

Then watch as I return to the bloody battlefield

You may wonder how I wear several a mask

And I tell you, wonder no further

Sincerely I respond to what you ask

You may call me the consummate MUDer

Forever an FL'er

__________________

Iconz - ... and if you aint down with that... i got two words for ya!

[Imoutgoodbye]

Roll with it Iconz!

Dang! I'm impressed with Raargant. He must have one hell of a writing background.

Aulian: I do believe the poem takes the Roman form.

Master of Shadows

by David N. Zimmerman II

A silhouette flitters through shadows,

the edge of your imagination not quite catching,

trying to catch something as elusive as a snake's thoughts.

As elusive as the darkest corner of your soul seems,

the mangled subconscious you so frequently battered,

mercilessly with the sword of non-fiction, refuses to yield,

but with grotesque horrors of the dream world.

As victimized as you are, you are not.

The twitching, wretched mass that fell,

fell to the void of truthful despair, there he lies.

Illuminable day has turned to frozen darkness,

the black lance that shatters euphoric nirvana, leaving,

yes, leaving, destructive sanity like some

nightly bomb, a bomb whose very atom is not evil, but

merely your essence.

Compared to you, the Chaos Curse is but a timid field mouse.

Yes, you are your grim reaper, harvester of sorrow.

Through it all, as the white light of negativity shines

into the truth, through the despair. Alas,

the silhouette flitters through shadows, elusive.

Again, day breaks. Sanity conforms.

Perhaps, then,

another time?

And, A-G, should I see you upon a beach, I shall be sure to kick pages of Byron in your face, good sir!

[Twinblades713]

Hehe, if I could be intimidated by a writer, Raargant would be the one to do it. ^.^

Here's another one of my earlier ones.

Temptation hides in the shadows

And waits for the opportune time.

Then it fills you with malcontent,

Tugging at your mind.

Temptation is a patient entity,

Slowly wearing away

At your basic instincts,

Leading you astray.

Temptation roams the walls of your heart

Finding a foothold and upon

Succeeding in persuading sin,

It slowly latches on.

With false logic it tickles your mind,

Like a conniving, little birdy.

But covers all the holes in the plot,

With a safe sense of security.

Temptation makes you think no wrong,

And before you can react,

Your mind’s begun to trick you,

Turning fiction into fact.

[Imoutgoodbye]

That reminds me of another one....this isn't the one I was going to post next...but I'll post the one I was going to after.

I'm not afraid of Raargant! It's just like the mud....it takes one better to elevate your game.

The Sickness

by David N. Zimmerman II

It's forever there, that one desire.

Burning and consuming, a ravaging wildfire.

Keeping it in a dark corner of your soul, revealed in dreams.

Can't hide it at night under the view of the moon's beams.

You think you hide it so well.

But your friends see it in your eyes, clear as a ringing bell.

The eyes are the windows to the soul

and this burden you carry is taking its toll.

Your mind is suffering severe vertigo.

And all you hold close has fallen low.

Just a shadow of your vibrant self, on ice thin.

Thrown away all your morals, found in the darkness sin.

The brimstone is in your eyes, reflecting out.

Imagery in mirrors, every lack of self doubt.

Given up all to take the power to make it real.

Reaching for it, close enough to feel.

At long last, what you've always wanted, you have it.

With what you've done to get, your own throat you slit.

Using the powers of sin, force, and all the lies plus one final trick.

Attained through such unsavory methods, you know you're sick.

The spell is finally broken.

In the midst of a nightmare world have you awoken.

Now, riddle me this, riddle me that....

?????????

by David N. Zimmerman II

Disparaging tears of the night's white eye,

a candid palor caressing inscribed granite.

Hazy wisps ethereally kissing green blades.

These are a few of my favorite things.

Petals of Darkness blanketing mahogany with silver.

Canvas intertwining withering winter vines and thorns.

Brown, brittle foliage or fauna, cracking bone.

These are a few of my favorite things.

Veil of fog over rose red lips stained by salt.

Bleak silk and satin, cloaked parade of humility under duress.

Lines of blue frozen water embedded in cracked cobble stone.

These are a few of my favorite things.

Vain despair mirrored in onyx crystal.

Arcane murmurings rustled through swirling brown, yellow, and red.

Frozen choker, chains on limbs naked with sap.

These are a few of my favorite things.

Bittersweet the sights and sounds.

Ironic by beauty and perversion.

Perceived is a Nazi, dead label.

Where am I?

[Twinblades713]

Wrote this JUST now... ^.^ I thought I'd write something applicable to the Lands of Forsakenness!

TALE OF THE DARK KNIGHT

I walk along the avenue Isabeau,

with a spot of tea and and my cane,

the day is bright and beautiful,

with no signs of rain.

And as I take my leave from home,

to the bakery,

I notice one very large dome

behind the scenery.

A crimson moon from nowhere seemed

to appear without warning.

And the sky fell dark and women screamed

and then came woeful mourning.

My confusion lasted for not long,

as hurriedly back to my yard

A Dark Knight stood so tall and strong

his countenance indifferent and hard.

Drawing a blade, that pulsed bright red,

He gently ran me through.

And now I am so very dead,

just like the rest of you.

I see my friends, family and strangers,

twirling in this blade,

We could not flee the danger

Now of our souls this sword is made.

[Malchaeius]

Ah, FL Poetry. Be still my heart.

[Twinblades713]

You love it.

[Raargant]

That's such a DK thing to do, to level up their malforms on some crippled bloke...

[Twinblades713]

That's such a DK thing to do' date=' to level up their malforms on some crippled bloke...[/quote']

My mini-shot at some of the things I've seen.

But the roleplay fits the bill. Why should a DK discriminate who's strong enough to kill? Right here at malform central, all souls are welcome!

[a-guitarist]

Maybe they're a DK who thinks their sword only wants the BEST souls possible, and will leave the weaklings be? Why would the soul of a crippled peasant be as good as an Avatar Blademaster Knight or Minotaur Berserker Warmaster?

a-g

[Twinblades713]

Maybe they're a DK who thinks their sword only wants the BEST souls possible, and will leave the weaklings be? Why would the soul of a crippled peasant be as good as an Avatar Blademaster Knight or Minotaur Berserker Warmaster?

a-g

How is any soul stronger than another? It's just a soul... It has no skill, like the person did, it has no size or strength, like the person did... I would think wanting those "better" souls would only be for show, and prestige. Perhaps the DK's diety would enjoy seeing the soul of an avatar of Irumeru more than a regular joe, but why should it be more powerful?

[a-guitarist]

Depends on what you view the soul as. Some people in Aabahran might view the soul of a famed warrior to be stronger than that of some weak minstrel strumming away for pennies.

A soul is sometimes viewed as the general make up of what the hero is. Everything my characters are, I feel, can be summed up into their soul. If all souls were equal, why would a Necromancer need to get another one after a few levels? Souls of the more powerful are more powerful. And if some necromancer stole my soul, I'd do what I could to get it back!

Why would a soul of an avatar be stronger than that of any other schmoe? They're empowered with the faith of Irumeru. They are given many great abilities because of their faith, and faith and soul go hand in hand. And what about a demon? They're "a thousand damned souls intertwined into a single mind." So, maybe they're stronger than some barkeep's?

I dunno. Just my take on things. Might be different with different people depending on RP and personal choice.

a-g

[Twinblades713]

I like your idea, but I like mine better. I don't see the logic in any soul being stronger than another. I guess we'll agree to disagree.

I posted a story on your site.

[a-guitarist]

Hey, it's, like, just your opinion, man.

Believe me, if I was playing a DK I'd feed that malform on anything I could kill. But I'm just saying... maybe there might be a DK somewhere that might think that way... but I doubt there will ever be. Heh.

a-g