Peredhil

The Sixties, yes, the Sixties. Time of hope, time of rebellion, time for planning new ways to do things, ways that could (supposedly) not be any worse than the status quo. In contrast to most of the other movements of the time, one very active group combined militant vegetarianism (not so uncommon) with militant alcoholic prohibitionism (very uncommon). They believed, in fact, that the first would automatically lead to perfect health. Eat only vegetables, love one another, and the desire and drive to consume that Demon Rum would just pass away. In Summation, This movement believed that: Peas would rule the planets, and love would clear the bars. It was the dawning of the age of asparagus.

Peredhil congradulates Bhurin on his entry into the Pen! A few ranks late. Congradulations on your Promotion as well! Another buried gem. I like this, but then, I'm a sucker for Role Playing Game inspired works. It scans well and flows smoothly before dropping off. -Peredhil

This has a delightfully Medaeval feel to it, while bearing the traditional cautionary tone. Nicely done, and fun to recite aloud. -Peredhil

What a gem lying buried with no replies in thread! This poem is contrary and disturbing - as fits the vacillating reactions of its subject. A poem to be read as carefully as one grasps a thorny rose stem. -Peredhil

I love these. From whimsical to sad, you play the heart's strings like a lyre. [hint] I'd love to see more...[/hint] -Peredhil

And themselves say that wide travel educates the soul... Travel to the local pub and a stout ale can lubricate the eyes! Me Irish ancestors bow in your general direction. Big Peredhil (and I'm not about being one of the Little People, don't you know?)

I like the elemental progression. Peredhil hugs some trees. I like the sentimental expression. Equating family and friend, P agrees.

Peredhil gazes at Jakob with a puzzled look. Why whatever do you me- Oh! You thought when I said heavenly bodies I meant that- A heavenly body is another name for planets and stars and - Oh never mind. Shocked, Peredhil just trails off with a muttered... "Pervert".

These words rang true, and mournfully... Peredhil's singing trails off. Lyrical and evocative. A small town guy stuck in a megalopolis, I really resonate to this. -Peredhil

Actually, I'm rather glad I'm reading this with a few months time under my belt. poignantly written, expressively well done. -Peredhil

I like the analogy! Perhaps we ARE stars, observing each other's heavenly bodies? -Peredhil

I hope when you finish this, it will be a constrasting piece, not a continuation of pain. Peredhil hugs Yui-chan. This too shall pass. Only death doesn't change. -Peredhil

Well stated, well phrased, and a call to arms. If you never push a limit or rise above the grey of existence, have you truly lived? If you deny all potential pain, you've denied all potential love as well. Although I'd put a bid in for the breathing eating and breeding part... -Peredhil

(Of course) This is well written, and your talent is consistently highly displayed... But I think the biggest twist ending you could deliver to me would not to have a twist ending! You have such an excellent faculty for seeing on both sides of the coin simultaneously... -Peredhil

Peredhil frowns as he reads the too-well written poem, but laughs as he sees agreement to the post he's yet to write. I suppose it's because of the confessions I've been hearing, and the support I've tried to lend, but this reminds me of a child caught in an abusive trap. The abuser too often expresses regret - after the fact and in retreat, while too often the child can't get past the short-sighted (hopeful?) escape implicit in the first part of the refrain, If I die before I wake... Some wounds take years to scar, if ever they do. -Peredhil (who sometimes tries to be strong so the weak can find strength, but knows his limitations as a counselor.)

Peredhil looks dubiously at the poem. I-it's very LONG. Grimly he digs in, and find an unexpected pleasure in the meter, like finding a four-step in a waltz tempo. Reading on, he begins to smile, then gasps at the bloody image. Clutching his heart to his chest, he urges on the man with the cane past the omens of doom. Not lost! he cries, knowing too well the feeling, only to finally arrive with relief at the door. Doh! Not the MILK! Turning to a near neighbor, he stammers urgently, Got milk?

True love doesn't require an ego affirmation or response. It's an outpouring such as you captured. The pain is all there - as is the hard to capture mature response. Some of us take years to learn this wisdom. So very well done. I agree (again, and I'm finding, often) with Tralla. I really like this. If that isn't my first response, heartfelt, I usually don't bother to figure out why the poem provoked a response at all. -Peredhil

I'll leave structural analysis to others more erudite than I - I knows what I likes, and this is one of 'em. I felt swept along on the rush home - you kept my interest and my inner eye focused through out. I've liked every poem of yours I've read - which I could see more... (hint, hint). -Peredhil

A sad song indeed, but there are many in this boat. A wit once said women date Vinny, but marry Melvin... Being honorable and true is not only its own reward, but as you get older, the women appreciate someone honest and faithful more than dominating and abusive. Be true to you. Well written. -Peredhil

The reassuring paths of self destruction. At least the pleaures give momentary relief from the constant pains. And one knows what to expect - there are no terrible surprises, just the heavy sigh of recognition. Sometimes healing isn't the hard part - it's learning to live with the emptiness of loss. Pain can give identity, can be resisted for strength, can provide inspiration, can provide an excuse. When pain is the moon in one's world, finding a new light to carry one through the night'semptiness can be a challenge... -Pendantic Peredhil

Peredhil whispers, I hope your continuation finds self and love. Enduring love is two strong individuals coming together and building a relationship, not a transitory loss of self in feeling that inevitably recedes like the tides...

very poignantly stated state of affairs.

A black humor to describe the reality of an unprepared deadline. Anyone who has ever had reality rush on them with winged feet and found them unprepared can appreciate this one. I like it. I live it. I feel it. -Peredhil

C.S. Lewis said that the only ones who hate Escapism are Jailors. It's a delicate balancing act indeed, but it's possible to be real and yet find the creative fantasy in life. It needed be like a light and its shadow, for one only sees the umbra when one's turned their back to the light. Rather find the glory in the veins of a leaf, the beauty in the tears of a child, the music of rumbled voices slightly out-of-focus in a classroom. Be aware of every day wonders... -Peredhil

Peredhil comes in followed by a morose Guido, who has been dressed like Annie, complete to a wig of red curly hair. At Peredhil's bright smile, Guido begins softly singing in a deep slightly off-key baritone. "Tomorrow, tomorrow, I'll love ya, tomorrow, it's..." Peredhil steps forward and begins his voice over. Some times it feel that way You just can't face another day You've dissed your friends and they won't play You've messed your life and don't want to stay But rarely does one door close That another doesn't open And if you'll listen I'd suppose You'll find a way of copin' Cause... Peredhil blends his voice with Guido, who steps forward and bellows, "Tomorrow, tomorrow, I'll love ya, tomorrow, it's only a daaaaay a-waaaaaayyyyyyyy!"