Rune

ack, so bad. *shakes her head and chuckles quietly* All morals aside some of them were damn funny.

They are both really good. I think the general feel of the subject works better in the paragraph form (of the other thread) in all honesty.. but this one is great as well. When looking back, which one do you prefer?

OOo I love writing where the imagery is so intense you sort of lose focus of anything but the scenary. When compared to the original, I think I like this version better. This one appears more mature, more detailed, more dark.. It does feel a bit like an opening to a story and it would be neat to see it expanded as mentioned. Any plans for that in the future? or working on any current projects now?

great poem Tassle. When i first read through it, the thing that stood out was how complete it sounded (if that makes sense.) After rereading it a couple times to try and get a feel for it, I realize that its really one of the most well rounded poems ive read in awhile. Great job! I cant wait to read more.

Rune appears to have found a small broom from a closet and is riding it around the pen keep as though it were a mighty steed. She has her fingers in her mouth as she trots from one place to another. She skids to a hault outside the area where Crowgirl is presenting her work. Propping the stick pony against a corner she listens intently to the opening scene and then the letter itself as it is read from the stage area. She gapes at the professionalism of the writing and general feel of the piece. Her mind creates a grand tapesty of feudal politics and the need for a queen to sacrifice everything to save her kingdom.. Even if it means realizing that her own well being is not enough to pull the one she loves from the depression that holds him prisioner. Rune stands to applaud with the rest of the audience and smiles intently at crowgirl before hopping on her stick pony and taking off in a full gallop.

Kipi! Another post by Master Wolfe. Poems about war are always intriguing. I think because war is somewhat facinating to a degree. This one is great, only suggestion I have is to read your poem out loud once you are done. If anything go into a room, close the door..and belt it out like you were reading it to an audience. It's a really easy and natural way to identify places that might need more content simply to make it flow correctly. (not that im saying this one doesnt flow correctly, just something ive found to help improve myself when writing)

ack! Ok thats just a bad mental picture.

Rune stares blankly at Master Wolfe as he uses such large words as francophones and anglophones. She then turns, still wide eyed, to Lady Celes Crusader who appears to laugh quietly at the conversation. The child shrugs and grins. Sounds good to me! She says before skipping towards the door. She stops at the last minute to turn and face Lady Celes Crusader. When ya gonna post more miss? I like to try and read them outloud in french, even though I cannot understand them and I am sure that Im killing the pronounc'e'ation, but the language is so beautiful and it just seems right. I look forward to reading more. With a quick wave and a dash for the garden, Rune disappears around the corner.

Rune nods in agreement with all the other bigger people who have said their comments before her. She nods so voraciously that she almost topples over.

hmm, I am horrible at riddles..so I wont even attempt to figure out what the main subject is about. Besides I think it applies to several different things depending on how you look at it. Running the words (colors) together gives it a rushed feel and adds a bit to the confusion when you first start reading it. That seems like a very effective technique when pulled off correctly.

Rune stares blankly at Vlad as he does his best to impersonate each presenter as he goes from line to line. Ooo neat idea! and it was very effective. Its sort of like a collage of pen art. Rune takes the poem, walks over to the nearest wall and does her best to hang it for public view. Only problem is that considering her height, it is really only hung about 2 foot off the ground. Shrugging she thinks it looks good to her and waves.

Oi, I know how that goes. I could write an essay for my own amusement on anything until it was an assignment. Then I struggled to even figure out a title. Of course this proves one thing, that all assignments should be outlawed and people should be allowed to write about what they want.

Did you write that?

Rune notices Blondemoon across the room and rushes over to be within earshot. She appears to be quite excited that the presenter is reading. Listening to the words echo slightly through the room she sinks into a chair in the back. Amazed at the amount of sadness and dispair being conveyed she tears up slightly. When the presentation is over the crowd begins to discuss the piece in hushed whispers. Walking towards the stage area, Rune reaches into her pocket to find a tiny ball of string. She pulls it out and strings it between two tiny fingers on each hand, making a sort of taunt connection between the two. Chewing between the twines on her fingers she cuts off a small bit of the string. She silently moves towards Blondemoon and holds out the piece of string to indicate that she would like it to be taken. This is the only piece I have. I know its not much, but consider it your own piece of this world. The child obviously has gotten the word play on peace and piece confused but no one has the heart to tell her. She walks away leaving Blondemoon holding a somewhat soggy piece of string and looking bewildered. Stopping at the door she turns and looks back before waving and heading back out into the hall. If this is your early work, then you have nothing to be concerned about. Raw emotion can be a very hard thing to portray and you have done a remarkable job at doing so. I think you put to paper what most people feel at times in their lives when their world speeds up and they feel left behind.

Ah no worries. Every song goes through changes to fit a tune, or a tune goes through changes to fit a song. It's really amazing overall. And btw, your quote is a good song as well.

Rune scampers into the room just in time to hear the last part of poem. After the crowd has cleared she walks up to Mister Wolfe and tugs on his pant leg. 'Cuse me Sir. Could you please read your poem to me? Jonathan Wolfe looks around a bit confused but figures why not. He rambles off his poem to the child who sits wide eyed.. attempting to understand the symbolism and deep thought put into the poem. After he is done, he glances at her waiting for her response, perhaps wanting some reassurance or even some acknowledgement for his hard work. Its good! She squeaks. Really good! Hoping down from the chair she was perched on for the recital she grins and half runs, half skips out of the room.

Rune boggles at Gyrfalcon. I dont think i'd want to be on the angry end of either one of those animals.

aww, whats a forest retreat without vines? Or maybe thats jungle.

hmm, maybe he is missing the part elf that makes him agile? *chuckles*

Ooo Forest retreat. My kinda place.. I always wondered if you could actually swing from vines like they do in those teley pictures. *ponders*

Reposting this because it was kind of wierd in the transfer. The winds of Change. A short reflection on life. Standing here alone I think of my childhood. I remember being born. Not born in the traditional sense but feeling alive for the first time. That summer was spent as a true figure among the animals. I was around 15 years of age and had been given the chance to volunteer at a local horse ranch. Having never spent more than a few moments around a horse except at a local farm faire, the prospect of spending an entire summer with them was intriguing. I spent some days rounding up stray goats. Their primal calls would whistle through the wind as I chased them around playfully. The youngest ones would chase back. Their tiny blunt horns would collide with my kneecaps hard enough to force me off my feet but not injure anything in the slightest. As I toppled onto the ground they would prance around as though announcing to the world that they had just brought down the most fearsome of creatures. I would fall backwards into the grassy slope giggling at their mischief and marveling at the world around me. I could feel the touch of each individual blade of grass as it caressed my skin. The warmth of the sun on my face was unrivaled by the sheer radiance illuminating from my smile. The world had no boundaries and as vast as it was, it was not scary, but rather comforting to know that I was part of something much greater. I remember escaping the overbearing pressure of political ratings among the public education system and the dread of monetary submission for supplies needed to survive. The cares of a world driven by science had disappeared. All that mattered was my ability to grasp every waking moment from that day and use it for what it was worth. Those days felt as though time had slowed down to roll in the grass me. I was free then. Free to make the decisions that would mold my future into what I am living now. Free to determine my fate and adjust my sails accordingly. The ability to correct mistakes without retribution and write them off as challenges once lived. Those times are long gone and I can no longer spend an entire day enjoying the moments in singular progression. Each waking moment is filled with the pressure of ensuring that all goes exactly as planned. Peaceful moments no longer exist. Even in the dead of night my mind is filled with doubts of the future and memories of mistakes long past. Moments of joy are often counteracted with regrets of how that moment came to be and what was sacrificed in return. The days are now a blur, undefined in their meaning and yet painfully rigid because of a schedule kept in an electronic matrix. I now have a certain paranoia of the size of the universe and the concept of being only a small piece of it frightens me beyond recognition. Instead of looking at the benefits of being part of a larger collective, I fear being overpowered because I am part of such a small portion. The grass that I once enjoyed as a youth has been dug up and replaced with a concrete parking lot. The goats that were so victorious in their prime have long since been buried and forgotten. The sun no longer shines here, instead the weather appears to mimic the constant nagging feeling of self doubt that is often found in my eyes. And although I do still smile, it appears to be a hollow representation of my soul. A constant reminder of what society wishes out of a healthy human being but not a true exhibition of my inner self. And I wonder where I went wrong and why this fate has come to pass. And whether or not I will be strong enough to serve out my sentence before the judgment is finally given and my world ceases to exist.

I cant speak french. ;__; And thats kind of sad considering I took it for 4 years. But none the less the english translation was beautiful. Thanks for posting both versions, I would have been very sad to miss out on something so well written.

Im just curious if you guys would be interested in sharing why you picked your usernames. Is there a story? one of your characters? your real name? that sort of thing.

Rune comes tromping into the room when she hears jonathan wolfe's voice from within Banquet Room. She grabs a drumstick along the way and sits content listening to his recital. About mid way she forget's she is holding the drumstick and that her mouth is full of chicken.. and allows her jaw to drop open from the imagery created in the third and fourth verse. Her tiny hands are covered in grease as she whipes a tear from her eye with the empty hand. mmfuf was beetooful She attempts to say with her mouth full. Swallowing hard she realizes she has made a pretty big mess and heads toward the nearest washroom. As she leaves the room, jonathan can still hear her voice in his mind. Its pretty interesting but for some reason as I read each section I kept thinking of colors. It went from distant black, to passionate red and orange, to warm yellow..to cold silver, to violent crimson, to empty grey..then a sort of soft blue. Anywho, very very good poem. Rune pops her head into the room one last time to reveal a huge toothy grin before waving at jonathan with a tiny hand and heading down the hallway. Its obvious she has her heart set on getting into more trouble.

kipi! The little demon props herself up, resting her chin in her hands and waits patiently for jonathan to post more.