Gwaihir

How neat!

Myth quickly backed to a wall, and then did her semi magical blending thing (Few beside an observant person with good vision indeed would notice her now)

She watched the procedings with interest

"Rather dramatic, but WHY?? What would he gain by killing these people? Is he motivated by some sort of pure motive (though I can't guess what) or would it be later safe to approach him. I'd have to find out that before I could wisely approach though. Does he know about this place we're looking for? Does THat have something to do with it?"

(As the Dreamer started to do his thing)

"That's quite a fighter. Is he a bezerker? I don't think so, but WHAt is he? Nice work with the Paladin, he was getting a bit close for comfort, but a knife could have attract attention (and who knows about his magic) so I was waiting. Think I'll stay clear of that guy. He glanced back towards that maudlin elf thing, the screwed up bird, and the dolt for a second. I wouldn't have been able to tell, but somehow I think he did something, because it feels like I couldn't get to the if I threw a knife. Either way not safe to test, no way I could fight that magic bezerker guy, he might still be paying attention to them on some level.

How fascinating. VEry nice touch with the pseudonun."

Myth watched

Neat!

I like the use of keywords (as in thrice). A sorta mysterious feel to the poem. Smooth rhythm too.

Thrice in heaven, thrice in hell,

Thrice upon the earth we dwell to rid the land ‘ere ever more,

Shade’s betroth’ed fervid knell.

 

We walk evermore, ‘cross shadows of death,

We see not, hear not, speak not, lethe forever more be human nature,

Damned to breathe it’s final breath.

 

Thrice we stand, thrice we fall,

Thrice we kneel once more in thrall to bow before another life,

To live once, twice enthralled.

 

This life we live, this existence endured,

Akin to what fate is thus obscured, and hidden from us ever more,

‘Till alas our heavenly state’s assured.

 

Once in past, once in present,

Once in times we have not spent shall find your quest as unavailing,

As once she hath and shall repent.

 

And here you stand, before my eyes,

In human cloak, and mortal guise to bring to me my earthly merit,

And freedom hence upon reprise.

Somehow these poems remind me of the sun.

Light kinda bouncy and full of cheer.

I like 03 best I think.

Not my usual type of poem at all, not sure if I like it, but *shrug*

Before we met, I’d never cried,

Before we met, I’d never cared.

Before we met, life was simple,

Before we met, I slept all night.

Now I’m awake missing you babe.

Now I’m awake hearing your laugh,

Or I’m awake, wishing I did.

Now I’m awake, and it’s your fault!

Should I have kissed? Knowing I’d change,

Would I have kissed? Knowing you’d die,

Could I have kissed? Knowing it all,

I’m glad I kissed.

Wow, nice. I think I like Defeated most, lots of fun. Maybe a bit of punctuation though?

So what remains for a fighter

When she loses her reactions?

Even the best are beat by time.

Age need not be calamitous.

An aged speaker’s at his best,

A lucky soldier dies in bed.

Medicare’s no use if you lived by the knife.

Someone younger will cut me out,

A foreseen knife. Too slow to block.

What use is an old assassin?

I’ll still know how to do it best.

But what if I can’t pull it off?

I like the way old lions go

Quietly starving in their dens.

Not sure about line seven, but...

I (Myth) have to comment:

"the Sword has a commanding presence in the immediate short-term reality"

Why can weapons not have a long term effect? One can read histories about the deeds of viking warriors, that's long term. Napoleon? I think he has had a long term presence on the western world.

~Myth

You're right.

I'm dumb.

Yes, that's why I particularly told him not to use a link. He didn't.

*grins at Jechum and the retreating shrubbery*,

but when did we change the rules for applications? I'm confused about that.

There's no honour for a sniper,

They never decorate a spy.

Hell! Someone could at least say thanks.

Just ten minutes of public praise...

It isn’t that I don't deserve.

Maybe because, they just don't know

How much I like my blood and sweat,

How much I hate my work sometimes?

Scratch that, it’s clear they see somewhat-

I insist on large recompense.

No, it's because they feel ashamed,

An upright citizen wouldn’t ask my help.

But, I don't mind it anymore.

If you need me search the shadows.

To a Beauty

First I came for information

I didn’t want to come at all

But somehow I just couldn’t skip

Was it a purely coincidence,

Or had your spell already struck?

That day I came, I plucked a leaf-

I promptly lost that fair elm though.

Told you that it didn’t matter,

Point in fact I wanted it back.

Said I’d come by and get a new.

I think I knew it even then:

I wasn't coming for the leaf.

And then today-life too quiet,

Needed the peace to be my choice.

I came to join your quiet haunts.

I came, but feared that I’d intrude,

Unwelcome on your silent walks.

Dear, I’ve never seen such beauty,

Such joy to walk with you right here,

Your mallards who don’t want me here-

Consistently avoiding me.

And oh your trees! Your tall old trees!

Goodbye pretty, for I must go,

But I’ll be back, beauteous graveyard!

Just for the record I'm not quite as screwed up as that makes me sound

You said you missed the northern fall.

Each tree cheered me with its bright leaves,

And so, I gathered these for you.

The strange shaped elm in graveyard grew,

That one I plucked by running brook.

And yet when I inspect my work,

This isn’t fall that I have here.

They’re pretty leaves and nothing more.

I couldn’t send you the whole oak.

You cannot see the sugar gum,

Majestic in it’s multiple-

Each leaf concentric colors grows

And yet enjoy my little gift,

Each leaf was picked with loving care

When I see each, I see its tree

So they have brought much joy to me

Posted by Myth, and dedicated to ~O~ who got me thinking in haikus (and probably won't like this dedication

Taught to hide my pain,

Coldness was our way of life.

I learned to be brave.

They laughed at my tears.

Said only the strong can laugh,

Forced me to survive.

Tough way to grow up.

A cliched angry young man

Who wasn’t even male.

[~O~ suggests that my dedication makes it unclear whose growing up I'm writing about. I mean Myth's, only the style is taken from ~O~.]

*would applaud, but noting that has become rather the style around here, instead just says that he likes the metaphors much*

Gwaihir hasn't quite figured out why Degenero is shivering, but either way, he is here too.