Gyrfalcon

Hmmm.... interesting so far. You have to wonder about the mysterious man and why he wanted that old box so much that he'd pay $5000 for it... I'm not sure why this Bryan and Kirk are important yet, but I'll wait to find out. Interesting so far- keep it up. *smiles*

*Gyrfalcon applauds* I like. *smiles*

Its good writing, but it strikes all too close to home for me. Too many kids have decided to get even and then kill themselves for me to be comfortable with this sort of story, especially considering the fact that I go to a high school. *Counts down the days until he's out of high school* Edited by: Gyrfalcon25 at: 5/30/02 10:07:32 pm

*Gyr dubs this a good-day poem and reminds himself to read it when he's feeling down* *applauds!*

Gyrfalcon chuckled softly as William started in surprise. The ranger had slipped into the chair in which he now sat without any sound or warning that he was there. Stopping his pendent's spin, he tucked it beneath his armor and the shirt he wore underneath, enjoying the coolness of the metal and its familiar weight against his breastbone for a moment. "What, you think that we're going to let you run off alone? Not a chance! Its been too quiet around the Pen, so I think I'll come along to keep you out of trouble." Gyrfalcon said with a grin. The grin faded from his face as he shifted forward. "Besides, I sense... somehow... that this is a journey that you'll need friends on. I also sense that I am to be one of those friends. Oh, and before you get any ideas on trying to give me the slip, I'm a ranger- I can track where you'll be three days from now!" Gyrfalcon said, a grin forming towards the end as he boasted, hoping for a smile or a laugh out of William. Again, his expression turned serious "Before we go, I think there are several others who wish to join us on this journey. And to tell the truth, I want to examine your sword a bit more while I have all the tomes of the Library at hand- its a unique blade that I'd like to learn more of."

Step right, and cut, step left, forward thrust, step forward, cut, forward, cut, forward, cut, pivot and chop... Gyrfalcon moved swiftly through a familar sword routine, so familiar that he let his muscles work through it on their own, using the time as moving meditation. Several months ago, it had seemed as if William had died... and yet, when Gyrfalcon had approched where he expected to see a smashed corpse, William was lying on the ground, unharmed. Since then, he had not attempted to commit suicide again, but the other members of the Pen still kept a careful, but discreet watch over him. Gyrfalcon had another reason to watch over William. Since that fight with the demon, he had sensed something approching... And Gyrfalcon knew that in some way, he would be caught up in whatever event that approched. Cut, step, slash, step, slash, slash, slash... Gyrfalcon's movements blurred as he pushed himself to the edge of his speed and skill.

Whoo. *smiles* Having a poet for a friend must be a wonderful thing. *Gyrfalcon applauds*

*Gyrfalcon applauds* It sounds to me like the writer of this poem (whether yourself or the person it is meant to be written by) had truely sat down to remember all the ways his (or her) love returned that love... and discovered that while s/he was giving his/her heart and soul, the other barely returned those affections, and had indeed, turned away from the author. ^ | | Yes, I've gotten into the habit of writing my own interpretation. Perhaps not a critique, but it allows the author to see how the message was viewed. *grin*

Gyrfalcon had come running when he heard the explosion, and stood near Seth when he saw the figure swaying on the edge of the open bell chamber of the clock tower. William. The figure paused for a moment, and then heaved itself outward, and Gyrfalcon's throat constricted. William! Gyrfalcon was a ranger, and had been active all his life. He ran as hard and fast as he ever had. His heart pumping blood through his legs as he raced forward as fast as possible, desperate to get to where William to fall, to stop his senseless death somehow. But as William disappeared out of sight behind a building, Gyrfalcon slowly stumbled to a stop. He thought desperatly, trying to call on his innate magic to save his friend. But he no longer had magic, and one person could not do everything. Gyrfalcon came to a full stop finally, and for the first time in his long, long life- Gyrfalcon felt old.

*Gyrfalcon just applauds*

I can almost understand what you're saying... but not quite. But that is a failing of my tired mind, not of your poetic skills. If I *do* understand you right, the child who belives he will never succeed, that flayed himself with what he believed he did wrong, and demanded more of himself then he could give, has stopped himself from ever having a chance at being successful as an adult. *Gyrfalcon applauds a good poem*

Gyrfalcon glanced at the guards, then shook his head "I could try to speak to them, and use my authority... but it'd mean that my cover would be blown, and my kingdom is a long enough way away they could tell me 'no' the same as any other traveler." The half-elf stopped for a moment and considered the guards, then shook his head and continued on quietly to the group. "Actually, I'd rather we talked to their commander, if we could. If they disobey a direct order and let us through, they would be court-martialed, and I'd rather not ruin their careers, or their lives, or, in an extreme case, their ability to continue to breathe." Gyrfalcon looked around the group "So, unless one of you has a better idea, lets see if we can use sweet reason on the commander of these soldiers to let us set sail sooner then a week from now."

*Gyrfalcon applauds*

*Gyrfalcon applauds* Sounds like a lament for a friend or family member who's having trouble and trying to go it alone. Well done, Vincent. *smiles*

A rhyme made from this dictionary: A Rhyme A friendly few words of rhyme words flowing like crystal chimes the sounds drifting on the wind to settle slowly into the mind A poet's best friend found in a place where not a sound can be heard, only the silence of the ether, lack of violence. Found at lycos, restricted by IE, considers it afflicted, with something it Does Not Like and wants it to take a hike And so this rhyme winds down leaving me without a frown as I express my appreciation to Falcon, rhymer's salvation

Responding only to your last line: My soul's too diseased and rotten Like a spill on ink on clean cotton few souls are so dark that they cannot find redemption, and I think your soul is not as dark as you make it seem. *Gyrfalcon applauds the poem* Good luck, Falcon. *smiles*

Heh, you do too have virtues: you are a poet, a songwriter, and a storywriter. Hey, I think those are virtues. *grins*

*Gyrfalcon applauds Rahsash's efforts* I like it. *smiles*

*Gyrfalcon just applauds, then bows to Tyrunn* Greetings here, Tyrunn.

Don't ask how I spend my afternoons these days. I just got off two major projects, and now I'm slacking a bit... granted, I still get everything done, but I'm doing things in the wrong order. It's supposed to be work before play, I think. *smirk* *Gyrfalcon applauds* Good poem, Canid!

*Gyrfalcon applauds* See? You haven't been killed by any girls yet! Optimism!

*Gyrfalcon applauds* This is actually an excellent poem, or at least I think so. I like the progression of the poem, from childhood to adulthood, and the themes and references to other poems you've woven into it.

*Gyrfalcon winces* I meant in the future, reverie, in the future! I'm sorry about the headache. ops: Still, good work!

*Gyrfalcon applauds*

*Gyrfalcon applauds* Good work for five minutes. Perhaps you could extend it? I sense the start of a good song or poem there.