Vlad

I'm really impressed... I'll try to read more of your writing cerulean

I hide and wait, To see your life, Don't animate- Me from this strife. In the shadows, I seek and squirm, What no one knows, I have to learn. You are beauty- That has been scarred, By what you see, And your own heart. _________________________ Hmm... 4 syllables per line, Consistent rhyme structure, I like this one...

As I said on MSN, this is a good work of literature. I still think you should show this to her, otherwise, how else will she know? Up to you though, this poem really tugs at the heart strings..

Because thoughts cannot express, The very words that I repress, From a time of long ago, When everything was slow, You helped open up my eyes, To the world that's outside, Through everything you did, Makes many lives splendid, A teacher of minds and hearts, Faith in not sports, but the arts, Endorse personal individuality, That is your greatest quality. As one respected among men, Most surely, we can meet again, But of you one thing I ask, In wierdness, you must bask.

My eyes burn, flesh scarred forevermore, Saddened as I am to know and love a loss; That which I do best, is of no use in time. But the tears do not yet come. My heart throbs, pain searing through... I am glad to know so many and so much, Trust in your faith and holy guiding light. My tears will be reborn. I am weak, terror of life laces my thoughts, No emotion is an option when one lives as I, Lost and dazed, confused within the glory. The tears come only now.

Thanks again to everyone who read and responded, or just read. I do wonder where those 50+ views came from... Things are turning around. Slowly, but surely... I appreciate everyone's support, but there are a few people that I wouldn't want reading this. I figure that "advertising" the pen at school could use a break anyways... Most of the gripes that I mentioned earlier, are going away... Getting enough sleep, and had half a pizza yesterday. Did well on the essays so tests aren't so important now. Tripping and falling onto a pipe, getting my [genitalia] nearly impaled was bit and a little but I'm fine now. It felt like the world started to back off when I first wrote it down, then again when I posted it here. I'm not surprised that Peredhil responded first, but you presented an interesting viewpoint, which helped me clear my thoughts. Ken - I don't think that your suffering helped me, only showed me that things get better. I reread my own advice, and now know that it's so much easier to comment from the sidelines. Brute - Most things you do make me chuckle. You're just a loveable, balding, drunkard of a fuzzball! also, for your sig the code would look like this: <font color=green><font size=7>Text</font> Again, I thank you all.

Happy birthday... I wish I had something witty to say.

John continued telling more jokes, with Griever encougaring him through pursed lips and narrowed eyes. John had noticed something odd about Griever's laugh at the onset, but payed no heed. Any audience is better than no audience, he reasoned. The sun had begun to sink deeper towards the horizon, elongating shadows, making them seem unreal. As John finished a particularly crude joke about shape-shifters, his horse began to stir. Apperantly either Daryl of Katzaniel had heard it, and did something to frighten John's steed. It bagan to trott away from most of the group, fearing for it's safety. John had no idea how to control a horse, and no bright ideas dawned upon him as the creature emerged into a gallop. John tumbled off, ripping part of the reins in the process. His knuckles had become ghastly white from the worry leaking into his death-grip. The horse continued running away, but none from the party cared to follow it. Kasmandre had remained dead to the world, while Greiver silently chuckled to himself. That's the first funny thing that fool's done all day. The animals looked up from their resting spots, but took no action, wisely deciding to conserve energy. Brushing dirt off of his constume, John slowly hobbled back to the group, expecting some sort of a reprimand.

I think it flows well. I'm impressed.

The following are the thoughts of one teenage male (me) at roughly eleven p.m. I wrote them on paper, as a reminder to post them here. The times/tenses have NOT been changed, so bear with it. ***************************** Members and guests of the pen: I would like to thank ou all for the precious gift of life. Were it not for you, I would most likely be in no condition to be writing this now. My mind may not be functioning properly, so this is written as is. Raw, unedited, pure ME. I began to wonder not too long ago, why am I here? Friends and family can't be the correct answer. The support I get from family is simply a joke; they push me farther than I'm willing - or able - to go. Friends, I've been pushing them away slowly but steadily for the past few days. I keep telling myself that it's for their own good, so they don't get hurt. More likely is the possibility that I don't want to get hurt. I believe that I recently got a taste of what real life actually is. Everything went wrong at work, so I got to stay for another shift. It's midterm week at school, consequently I had three essays due Monday. I also have four or five tests coming up throughout the week. Extra-cirricular activities seem to be slowly sucking away more and more of my time. I haven't had enough time for any reasonable amount of sleep this past week. The past thirty hours, I've lived solely off of chocolate chip cookies and gummi bears. Combine that with the "regulars" of peer pressure, staying at least moderatly fit, and keeping up with my friends' problems to be that shoulder to cry on doesn't make things any easier. Also, an old sports (knee) injury, which gives me a pretty bad limp, seems to have resurfaced. A quote that I recently read - To the world, you may be one person; to one person, you may be the world. - keeps cropping up in my thoughts. There is a girl I like, but I seriously doubt the feeling is mutual. I'm not very good at conversations that involve thinking on my feet. I tried thinking of the quote conversly, if anybody cared about me that much. My thoughts remained void of all names, which just goes to prove how overworked, or unloved, I really am. Neither possibility was enough to make me want to continue a life where I slowly drudge through my own kind of torture. Next, my thoughts went towards what I loved to do, and if I would miss it in death. The first thing that I wondered about were my Rubik's cube and various assortment of puzzles lying around my room. These items seem to be part of the problem, increasing my frustration, and giving me unnecassary headaches. I thought about fun and recreation. Shooting people on X-box Live had become tedious, as had internet chess. Warcraft III was still good for plenty of entertainment, but it alone wasn't enough to change my mind. Lastly I though of poetry... and words... and the pen... and the people here... I thought about every single person individually. For each person, I remembered a moment which made me smile. Because of everybody here, I'm able to write my thanks. I cannot explain how much reading the comments on my work, positive or negative, lifts my spirits, if only by a little bit. I cannot explain how much everybody here means to me. Before, my sense of humor helped my through life. It got me through my grandpa's death, through September eleventh, through a multitude of tough times. I would describe mysense of humor as wry, sarcastic, ironic, possibly even sardonic. As I have grown older and matured, many teachers have tried to squelch my sort of humor, and as I am sad to say, they are succeding. The Pen is a refuge. The first and last refuge. When things go wrong, I know I can come here. I chose to post this now, after the problems have started to resolve themselves, because another Pen member was in need of support. Ken (Deggy) needed your support and assistance more than I. As I write this, tears come to my eyes, knowing how much you guys love and care about each other. I am honored to be part of a community such as this. I know that I cannot go on a haitus from here if things go awry in real life. You guys are what can, and will fix those problems. You are my inspiration to life. I love you all. As I look at my watch-watch, and realise that I have spent a full hour writing this, I believe I should conclude. Pouring out my soul, and shedding a tear for every word, I thank you all from the deepest depths of my heart. I am forever in your debt, and will repay it the only way I know how. By writing more; spreading more emotion, be it happy or sad, for that is what I can do. Thank you all for being part of this community, and for reading this rather long peice of text. Thank you. - Mike Alex Drob a.k.a. 'Vlad'

Going through this half-assed life, Like a gerbil through new socks, Things whiz by just over my head. I don't care to know what's happening. Running by in circles to nowhere, Spinning and tumbling around- This universe that seems so small, Miles are mere minutes to my mind. With a glass ceiling blocking me in; Closing my eyes to the outside. The wheels of evolution can turn- In more than one direction, I've seen. Don't make a poor creature suffer, Inside of a cage with this wheel, A water bottle and one dish- That's the life I'm born to die through.

Sorry I didn't respond to this earlier. I guess I must have missed it, but... This is an excellent poem. I like the raw emotion conveyed, it is truly powerful. I'm also happy for you that RL ended relatively well. Hope it continues...

This is good. I had to read it a few times to get the meaning of it, but it got to me. Some of the wording seems out of place, but I like it.

I know I'm going to get pelted with tomatoes for at least one of my choices... The first two are the Illiad and Oddysey by Homer. If you read a good translation, they are simply great pieces of writing. The other is Karl Marx's Communist Manifesto. The first line is: The rest kind of tapers off, and get a bit more boring...

i am alone the day is long and tedious i stay away from others who wish to do me harm i am cold. the air is thin and crisp. i hudle in a corner, searching for life. I am a person. the life I never had looms, I reach to grab it's feet- just as it slinks away. I am myself! You cannot be like me, I'm proud to be an individual. Staying away from your psuedo-existance. ------- I don't really like how the last stanza turned out. All comments are apreciated. (Yes, the punctuation and capitalization are intentional.)

Ooo... I just this imagery!!!

A pointed lance- Passes through me. Through my heart and soul, Blood rains upon the wicked, Drowning them in tears of sorrow, From the open, gaping hole. Fall back into the abyss, A dark lord who summons- Must now face the recoil. As I fade to dust, releasing- The horror hidden within, All my secrets go into the soil. ... Emptyness replaces the hole, That I once existed as, Bringing the Void where I go.

Another excellent piece of work, and this time the spelling isn't a problem! Again, I recomend thinking about where you end the lines- Although it may be a personal style preference. In the second stanza, the second use of 'wine' seems a bit akward. Other than that, I only see a few little things, which I could explain via PM, if you asked. The important thing, like Peredhil said earlier, is to get it written down. You can tweak it later. I especially like the last line. It struck a nerve with me, because of events that recently transpired in RL for me. I am a firm believer that there is more beauty in small things than anything else in the world. That, and I just adore irony, when used appropriately.

This is a good poem, with an interesting epithet. It flows well, except for the last stanza. It seems a bit choppy with the last two lines being longer than everything else. If you were to rewrite it perhaps you could make into two lines and have be by itself. Maybe even two or three blank lines before it. Watch your spelling and think about where you end the lines. Both of those seem a bit distracting, and may detract from the meaning.

It seems like a good idea, but I have a few suggestions and questions... 1)You are not allowed to nominate yourself. Or have the Elders nominate people, as Deg stated. It would be more fair, and less cluttered. 2)Would it encourage more posts, just for the sake of posting, or more posts to help people grow. Both sides can be argued, but again, if the Elders nominate people, it would lower the spam posts. 3)Would it take into account people's schedules? Some people read every single post, but don't have time to comment on any that aren't extremely high priority. Others read only half the posts, but comment on every single one. 4)Would it take into account people's interests? For example, I try to read all of the poetry, but I rarely go into the Assembly room. Why? Because reading long, story-type, posts gives me horrible migranes. If I print them off, I'm fine, but my ink and paper are finite. That's all for today....

Why does this seem like a blink 182 song to me? It's good, but I hate that group. Well, mostly 'cept for a few songs. I don't know if I like the first or second version more...

Seeing the plethora of languages here (thank you Harpy for cluing me in) I'll try my hand at one. Ìîé ïî÷òîâûé àäðåñ ïðàâåëüíûé. (you might need to have a cyrrilic compatible font enabled, otherwise it would look like an assortment of vowels.) btw, It's Russian.

OOC: I hope you don't mind me advancing the storyline a few hours. If you do, just get one of the Elders to relocate this thread after a few other people have posted. IC: With the falling of dusk, activity becomes more hushed within the Cabaret Room. Fires begin to dwindle, and scholars' arguments about long forgotten lore quiets down to mere whispers. Many plan to retire to their rooms, so that they are ready for the morrow, but some choose to live life at its fullest under the cover of night. A lean figure approaches the Cabaret Room, bathed in the velvet light of the full moon. His cape gets a surreal look under the calming rays, but his dagger glistens, as if to scream its thirst for fresh blood. The man moves quickly and with purpose, hoping to find a well known and loved member of the Pen's community. A small, oddly-shaped item rests under his arm, wrapped in light brown paper. The paper was held together by a deadly thin piece of what appeared to be twine. Upon closer inspection, one would discover it to be hair. A silky piece of majestic blonde beauty, finer than a spider web, and more fragile than life itself. As the door to the Cabaret Room swings open, the faint outline of a vampiric shadow is cast upon the floor. A few look up, but within a few minutes, all is as it had been. Vlad scans the room for one he held in hig esteem, Nyyark. The package hidden under the many folds of the undead's cloak would have surely interested the Crowboy, had he known what it was. Searching the room one last time, the vampire's eyes focus in on a remote corner. As he looks at the occupants of a pair of stools, he spots an overly large crow. Perhaps that fowl [OOC:] creature knows where Nyyark is hiding.... Vlad approaches the crow and her companion with caution, he knows all to well what birds are capable of doing. Zariah continues making small talk, not noticing the stranger, but Crow immediatly recognizes the newcomer. "Kaw. Caa kah." "I'm sorry, but I do not speak crow-tongue. Perhaps you could point me in the direction of Nyyark?" Cocking her head in the direction of the center of the Keep, crow replies with a single "Caw." Seeing the bewildered look on the vampire's face, Zariah decides to intervene. "Nyyark has gone off to do research on the disappearance of crows from around the Pen. I believe he doesn't want to be disturbed, so if you-" "I have pressing matters to attend to, so I shall make this fast. I have found something which may be of interest to him, and possibly to you as well. There are many scattered around the grounds of the Keep, not hard to find... If you know where to look, that is." Having said these words, Vlad places his small package on the table before the two ladies, human and crow. With a deliberate slowness, he unravles the hair holding it together. As the paper falls away, a small bird-shaped skull is revealed. It is snowy white with a grey crack that slivers down the left side and an unnatural looking orifice just below the crack. Both spectators are awestruck in bewilderment and stare at the spectacle for at least half of a full minute. By the time that Crow and Zariah manage to draw their gaze away from the skull, Vlad is nowhere to be seen.

This has been going on for a long time now The last breath, Then what? It's all the same to me. You dare not say. The pain is real, the horrid pain Your pain reaches mine, And I fall among friends, fall unknown. I hear the damned voices A simple tearing at my heart These tears flow from my eyes, What am I to feel? Made from the works of: Vlad, Peredhil, Rival, Tasslehoff, DoomGaze, Rune, Alaeha, James Devin, Falcon, Deadly Nightshade... I think that's everbody. Enjoy.

*Starts to hand over his booze to Brute, but then realizes his character is over twenty-one. Well over. Happy B-day Alaeha! (How many people turned sixteen this month...?)