Falcon2001

*Pats Rezure on the back, conseqeuently lifting his wallet* Let's see here, what's the biiiiiig news with me (While, of course, leafing through Rezure's wallet and removing all items of value)...could it be, nah. YES IT COULD! You guys know the two halves I was talking about? Y'know, intellectual and emotional? Well, I was sitting there, reading some of Shadowflower Maiden (Porcelain, now)'s poetry, and it all clicked back the way it used to be! I CAN WRITE! PRAISE THE LOOOOOORRRD! Well, recently I could write prose and stories anyway, like the 'Rooms of the Mighty Pen Keep' thread I recently created...EVERYONE GO THERE! REALLY! I need your input! GO THERE RIGHT NOW! It's in...one...of the other...rooms...not sure, I think it's the Assembly Hall. CiodenDarkeye Initiate of The Pen Hopeful Patron Saint of Impatience

Thank you, thank you! *Gets up on a dangerously unsteady podium and clears his throat* As you all know, Cerulean has graciously awarded me...wha?! *Suddenly a thrown apple misses him, hits the podium, causing it to topple into the microphone and then off the stage, rendering Cioden unconcious. CiodenDarkeye Initiate of The Pen Hopeful Patron Saint of Impatience

Well, I always kind of followed the romanticist idea of poetry, if it doesn't flow, I'm not going to force it. Of course, I'm only sixteen, so give me a few more months and I'll be back to able to write without my emotional side controlling it. I've gone over some poems before and changed them, and from those come some of my better work...but my little eccentricity is that I HATE REDOING MY WORK! I know I'll just have to get used to it...but it annoys the living poetry out of me. All my emotionally based poems are written all at once, within sixteen seconds or so, but everyonce in a while I have a line running through my head all day and I go home, turn on the Dreamcast, load up the web page, disconnect the net, and spend an hour or so writing...that's how my songs are all made(See the Poetry Forum of the AM UBB for them, they're recently bumped up)...but I like some of my poetry better. It's personal opinion, really, but I'll take your advice and try it out sometime... CiodenDarkeye Initiate of The Pen Hopeful Patron Saint of Impatience

Well, it's like I said. I CAN crank out meaningless serving of worthless, tasteless poetry, but that's the intellect talking. I don't like that...it's usually not worth the time it took to write it. Example: My first entry poem. CiodenDarkeye Initiate of The Pen Hopeful Patron Saint of Impatience

RagingGoat... I just wrote a long huge post, then forgot to put a topic. Damn. Anyway, here's the gist of it: RagingGoat, I'm going to skip the part where I put 2 and 2 together, but I did, and I think something happened with you, or else you wouldn't be getting so angry at peredhil, who apparently makes it a point to remain neutral in all things. I understand what he's saying though, and I sense a kindred spirit in you if what he says is true. You're superior to me in many ways if you can do what he says... First off, I (Apparently) have a powerful intellect capable of producing thematic poetry. I also have an artist's heart, capable of putting emotion into my writing, which is my only outlet. The only problem is that my emotion triggers my intellect, so if I don't feel depressed or angry or SOMETHING, I can't write. I just can't. I try and it comes out like my first poem for entry, which to quote my friend when he saw it: "Man, that's disturbing." After I lost my suicidal tendencies over Andrea, I lost my writing ability. Recently(as in TODAY) I was able to write a poem by scraping together what hopelessness and hatred I had left and shoving it into lyrical form. To write my real entry poem, I had to stand in front of the bathroom sink with a knife for ten minutes, and I almost lost it again. To get into an emotional high, some people use drugs, but I just wallow in my own psychic filth. The only thing keeping me alive is my (THREE) promises to commit to life, so all my suicidal energy pent up and I was able to write. You, apparently, can write at will. I envy you, because I cannot. And when I can, I'm depressed for days. Also, I have to thank you again. When I attempted suicide, you were the only one who got my name and called the police to try and save me...thank you. I can't write more, I have to go, but please take a little break and calm down. Please? CiodenDarkeye Initiate of The Pen Hopeful Patron Saint of Impatience

Hear, hear! Good speech, Peredhil. As usual, you are completely right.

Ah! I see, said the blind man! Don't you have an account here? And does anyone know what's with the sudden spamming of the AM UBB?

Wyvern, it wasn't flaming. Flaming would have happened if he had gone on his merry way and kept doing what he had been doing. I was pointing out what he was doing wrong(Okay, Osama Bin Deggy was a liiiitle far, but it was funny), and it's the only time I even came close to flaming him. My and Deg are friends now, and I'll remind him to come back here (He's recently joined my guild, SFV Ultima, so I talk to him regularly). Remember that Degenero FULLY agreed that he was going over the top, and apologized, and I said I put him down as a ROLE MODEL, not put him down with insults.

Wyvern - Don't worry, your secret is safe with me. Peredhil - Thank you for showing some interest in my poetry, a compliment from you is worth it's weight in gold...wait a minute. Sound weighs nothing. And the 1s and 0s that comprised it weight dang near nothing too....but you know what I mean. Yes, I suffer from Chronic Low Self-esteem Syndrome...or life, as I like to call it. I'll take your advice there though...thanks. I truly thought that the second one was good, but the first one was a little strange, I finished the last four lines in under thirty seconds, so I really thought it was a poem that wasn't very good...I'll try not to use the 'S""k' word anymore, I agree it's not a polite word...thank you for the compliment though, you always have been a role model to me...of course that doesn't mean much...I put Deggy down too. Can you believe he's in my guild?

What are you, pocket boy? Even though I have no say, you are a VERY GOOD storyteller. I find it highly probable that you are better than I and will make it in, while I stay out and throw eggs.

Fine, then. I'll wait for his scaly hide *sits down in a corner and pulls out his acoustic guitar*

Was there an OLD pen site? I just found out this was an actual site and not another of Lumpy's ramblings. Well, as long as the patron saint of parties is here, I'm fine!

I'm sorry if I sound impatient, but I posted my request to join two days ago and have recieved no response other than my own demented rambling. If Wyvern(or whoever the heck is in charge here) would please tell me whether I'm in or not, 'twould be greatly appreciated. My recruitment thread is the other one started by me, 'Hoping to Join'

Wow, Cerulean's a teacher? I never knew...hmmm...love the stories though... YES I have finally decided to turn in my resume to the recruitment board...shouldn't be much of a problem as I wrote a ballad that I consider my best work as my entry test, so I'd say I'm in. Those who know me(the few, the insane, the trying-to-forget-my-name-through-drink) know I should have tried long ago, but I never got around to it. ANYWAY, here's Will's story. It was winter. To quote: 'Tis Nary a night, for MAAAAAN or beast'(here a blast of snow hits falcon, causing him to look around)...anyway, it was a bitterly cold winter, and I was still a young and naive 13, so I decided to go down to the lake near my house. Now, this isn't as much a lake as a huge puddle, but it was still big enough to afford property on it's shores...which were what, a couple hundred feet apart? Anyway, I decided to crack some of the foot-thick ice, so me and my brother got a stump and threw it out onto the lake. When the stump didn't break it, we decided that we were safe. My neighbor has an interesting little theory about children and stupidity. One kid, by himself, can only be so stupid. But when they get together, they idiocy multiplies. This proved true when me and my brother thought that if a lake could support a thirty-pound stump, it could also support a 135 pound kid. Anyway, I decided to...wait for it...JUMP ON THE ICE! As anyone can tell, I fell through, and was immediately greeting by thirty feet of sub-freezing water. When I kicked to the surface, I was able to pull myself up and walk the mile and a half home. Dripping wet and cold.

Screw it, I'll copy one I wrote a while ago, then include another one for good measure. Screw it(Twice, mind you), I'll make just one...I think I'll make it a ballad. Three stanzas of eight lines each, and a refrain of four. It's kinda freeverse though. Obsession As I stand among the wicked And I remove the darkling cloak Wights gather 'round, seeking blood I am guarding the stony heart In the middle of the wasteland Guarded by hatred and jealousy No-one thus far hath breached the defense I stand silent, smirking aloud Intruder approaches, ready the fort But I still lost the battle therein She walked on by, her weapon kindness Lancing the ghouls of my dark soul Coming to the rocky heart She laid a hand and spoke a word I was laid bare by her nature And my love escaped from hate I was happy then when she spoke And told me everything she knew And her voice was ambrosia to my mind The bee's sweet nectar was no compare I floated along on wings of love Born aloft by her sweet voice She lives a life without me though But waiting I shall stay alive So men rejoice and drink your wine The fort is celebrating life again I sit on the watchtower and wait forever Steadfast, my vigil, my final test There you go, it's a beautiful tribute to someone I know...if I need to email this to you guys, could some-one email this for me? I'm using a dreamcast for internet, so I don't have cut and paste. -Falcon2001 -Hopeful Member of TPiMttS

Yeah, sure Wyv. You're the one with the parties.

I'll post a poem later, lunch is almost over and I have to go...well, let's see here... Softly slipping past the shadows Falling on the hearts of men In the hills and on the meadows Clutching at the soul Fear is nothing but itself so Why do they fight it if that's true I can't see the reason in there... And then they got their head ripped off by a Red Dragon. The end. Okay, so the ending sucked, but I ran out of poetry fuel (Read: Sugar) half-way through, so I'll post later...C'mon, you ALL KNOW ME!

Hello. I'm Falcon2001, an accomplished poster on the poetry board interested in membership...I found this site while I was looking through the GA UoH and decided I wanted in. If you want a sample of my work, tell me so and I'll go ahead and show you.