Zariah

Undecent love… eep! There is no such word as “undecent” Did you mean Indecent? There is rhyming here, irregular, but a nice touch. Lifeless Love…. Wow, this is really sad. I hope you don’t really cut. I used to cut, and it was not the way to go…. Also, your scars will haunt your future. If you ever want to talk to me about that sort of stuff, I’ll share my story. I like the end word, dead, being bolded.

This makes me very sad. I have felt EXACTLY like this. It's really hard to imagine that there are people like this out there, until you are hurt by them. Then.... trust in others can be hard. I don't kow if I am mumbling abut anything relelvant (ie. if this is not personal and just a creation on a rainy day) but if it is, talk to me about this, I know I am good listener. council, and I have been through this pain twice.

The style of this reminds me a bit of Walt Whitman. I like the parallel structure. It feels like a whimsical tone. Great!

Impressive imagery, vivid verbs, grat sense of timelessness!!! Three cheers for Whynotsin! Hip hip Hurray! Hip hip Hurray! Hip hip Hurray!

Wow, this is what I'm talking about! I like this a lot! Great job!

I feel the anxiety in the moment of not knowing... wanting things to be oky...but it being in the hands of another, and then.... all gone. This is sad. Thank you for posting.

This is also very sad. It is almost like the chorus of a song. I like the ending the best, it feels like a conclusion of letting go is the best for both of them. I am intrested in reading a piece that is positive. Keep posting.

Wow, this is really sad. I feel the loss with you. As a thought- check the spelling Also- If you have a particular style, I would recommend possibly adding dashes, as a device to enhance the pauses.

HERE WE GO......... NOT EXACTLY FOLLOWING YOUR DIRECTIONS ABOUT THEME ORIENTATION, BUT I WAS CREATIVE..... Along the muddy water bank Crimson water stains the shore. Remembering the massacre, On March the third of '54, While angrily I curse the war. Condemned in mourning for my men. All who fought well for vict'ry prime. With tearful eye the bells do chime. Somehow I wish they had more time. All these years they haunt my mind. Tombed in a field, all left behind. Too many suffered through that pain, Hallmarks in knighthood they did untite, Enticing their foes who were insane. Embarking a path for an era of sight No longer hindered by chains of ill reign, Determined for freedom they charged with all might. Offered compromise by our enemy, we slowly retreated. From cunning deception, we then were defeated. They killed us in great numbers, those goblins cruel, Hopeful and dauntless, we stay on our course. Eternally damned, we died in the last duel. Drops of rain plummited upon rock-bedded shore. And a cry from a crow, brings the memory fresh. Yearning to keep me lost in the massacre of '54.

Zariah rose and looked carefully at the new face. She noticed he was perhaps several years her junior, but found a slight attraction to him. He was almost cute, and perhaps could be of help for solving the mystery. "Hello...um... Fountian? My name is Zariah. I'm rather new here at the Pen. I've been here for several months now, but not social. Nevermind the small talk for now. We need help. Nyyark sent an announcement to members seeking their help in finding a murderer. There have been crows missing, and Nyyark has found several skulls. In fact, Vlad sent a package containing one not long go.... see, it's on the table" Zariah moves to the side and Fountain looks curiously at the skull. Crow begins to speak "Kaww caw kah kaw cahh." Zariah translates, " We are in quite a predicament. We have been waiting in hopes of some asistance. Do you think you could aid us?" Crow and Zariah look longingly at Fountain in awaiting his response.

Last but not least in my posting for this thread (perhap only for the hour) I'd like to add haiku's in Peredhil's honor. These are current in poetry from Etheridge Knight who was born in 1933 and recently passed away in 1991. Haiku 1. Eastern guard tower Glints in sunset; convicts rest Like lizards on rocks. 2. The piano man Is sting at 3 am His songs drop like plum. 3. Morning sun slants cell. Drunks stagger like cripple flies. On Jailhouse floor. 4. To write a blues song Is to regimet riots And pluck gems from graves. 5. A bare pecan tree Slips a pencil shadow down A moonlit snow slope. 6. The falling snow flakes Can not blunt the hard aches nor Match the steel stillness. 7. Under moon shadows A tall boy flashes knife and Slices star bright ice. 8. In the August grass Struck by the last rays of sun The cracked teacup screams. 9. Making jazz swing in Seventeen sylables AIN'T No square poet's job.

Wallace Stevens (1879- 1955) Not Ideas About the Thing but the Thing Itself At the earliest of winter, In March, a scrawny cry from outside Seemed like a sound in his mind. He knew that he heard it, A bird's cry, at daylight or before, In the early March wind. The sun was rising at six, No longer a battered panache above snow.... It would have been outside. It was not from the vast ventriloquism Of sleep's faded paper-mache.... The sun was coming from outside. That scrawny cry- it was A choister whose C preceeded the choir It was part of the colossal sun, Surrounded by its choral rings, Still far away. It was like A new knowledge of reality.

Ode (Sung at the occasion of decorating the graves of the confederate soldiers dead in Charleston, SC on June 16, 1866 ) By: Henry Timrod Sleep sweetly in your humble graves, Sleep, martyrs of a fallen cause; Though yet no marble column craves The pilgrim here to pause. In seeds of laurel in the earth The blossom of your fame is blown, And somewhere, waiting for its birth, The shaft is in the stone! Meanwhile, behalf the tardy years Which kept in trust your storied tombs, Behold! your sisters bring their tears. And these memorial blooms. Small tributes! but your shades will smile More proudly on these wreaths today, Than when some cannon-molded pile Shall overlook this bay. Stoop, angels, hither from the skies! There is no holier spot of ground Than where defeated valor lies, By mourning beauty crowned!

Crowgirl here...now I am Zariah Note: My email is STILL : Crowgirl1126@hotmail.com My second email is: Ditzy2628@aol.com I have no trouble in receving emails from the pen on my hotmail account. Check.

I really like the imagery in this poem. Also concept of fading, falling in the sky, this lonileness is present throughout with use of the color gray... nice. I like this.

Wow, this is really well written. It tells a story and also invokes a feeling. The ending is sad and the reader (me, sorry, IB English presses on saying "the reader") is left feeling sadness. Very vivid imgery as well. Thank you for writing this!

I really like this. It shows the ability of good to conquer evil. My favorite stanza is the first. I believe this is the word choice and the rhyme. I think its the terms untamed, wild, and the concept of the flowers filling every void. Great job, please post more like this!

I really really really like te creative fashion in which you seprated the poem (The five sections). Edit: I think in the second line you meant to say "summers are sunny". Perhaps this is a typo eror? My favorite stanza is Mantra. I think this is because I haven't seen on the pen before any form of poetry praising God in a personal way. In terms of you, I hope that if this reflects you, that you know God will not reject you, but this is a different issue than a poem. Thank you for this creative expression!

Zariah enters as the announcement concludes. Sensing an urgency and importance to the matter, she approached Crow in hopes she can be of help. As Zariah approaches, Crow's eyes glimmer in recognition of an interested member. Zariah bows slightly and begins. " Good day. I was late to the announcement and I was wondering if you could inform me of what this is all about. Perhaps I can be of some assistance." "Kaw caww kaww caw." "Actually I can understand you. This Nyyark friend of yours does not need to come to help translate. I am Zariah. I come from Clan Kawn." " Clan Kaw! Kawww caw cah! Kaw caw kawww ka kaw caww?" "Well, when I was a wee babe, I was left alone in the woods. Mother found me there and raised me with all of her community. I am adopted. For a humanlike creature cannot be a crow, of course. I know the ways and understand the language. I have been of age for three years now, and sent to be out on my own. It is wonderful to see a crow here, so far off from my land. If you could tell me of the troubles here, I could be of some assistance." "Kaw. Caww kaw caww ka kaw. Kaa kaah cah. Kaaw cah caw-" "No! That's awful! What sort of evil would bear this misfortune? I will be the first to join on solving this treachery!" "Kaw cahh caw." "Bid me no thanks, dear Crow. I have a wonderful feeling that we shall make great friends. Perhaps we should wait for others to join in our mission?" "Kaw." Zariah sits next to Crow and makes small talk about the similarities of their people.

I think creating a set of threads for beginners would be an excellent idea. The experienced could "guide" those unfamiliar with role playing through the process. I, for example, have never played any role playing games in my life. I am VERY interested, but need he "baby steps". Many times I have read the running threads in the conservatory, but cease to join in for fear of failing, or looking stupid. I was not here when the pen began and I know many of the new members do not know what was avaiable in the past because they were not there. If we could inspire the voting members and elders to work on a special helping thread(s), then soon those who learn to roleplay can join in the "big-time" threads. Anyone interested? If you are, or have any other ideas, please add or comment.

Thank you all very much for your information! I am glad to learn new things, and to share thoughts with all members interested.

Being a senior in high school, I did not live in the 70's, an age where feminism took a stand again, I believe if not incorrect, highest since the period of Woman's suffrage rights. (?) For my art class, I did research on this movement, and I am now addressing it again for my English class. I am reading a book entitled Living By the Word: Essays by Alice Walker. Here, she shows her view of women's rights in essays she writes, but one thing irks me. WHY does she call it "herstory" and not History? I know enough about words to recognize this word comes from another language be it Latin or another, and that history was not made to be sexist. I can't fathom the concept of changing every idea that shows masculinity presiding, (whether it be intentional or not) from masculine to feminine due of a mere irritation of being a woman and not feeling included. Perhaps I am missing something entirely. I remain ignorant, and I want to change this by hearing others' views on the matter. (Since there has already been some "drama" I want to point out that I mean no controversy here and if this becomes and "issue" I will immediately ask for this thread to be deleted.)

Midnight Ponderings Misty are my eyes For they burn by this bright lamp Not yet accustomed to its light But glued to the paper in front of me Silence becomes louder Beyond the swish of my blanketed legs It is on these nights I explore trivial pursuits Why are my walls a different color than my ceiling? Is it pathetic to have more bandanas than hats? Will I ever outgrow my stuffed animal kitty on my pillow? How many flaws will I notice before I choose to fix them? Where is my blanket? (On the floor) When will my eyes stop burning? Sigh... It's quite a pity how superficial My thoughts are during sleep mode. I am, however quite grateful for Deeper reflection during time where the sun is present. Then the sun burns and my eyes do not. The light reflects al over my room, so I don't notice the walls All my clothes are strewn about my room, so I take no inventory. I don't think about my age, for Kitty is under my unmade bed. I am living my life and not analyzing my faults. I don't shiver in cold air, yearning for a blanket. And best of all... My eyes don't burn. Overall, I focus on my everyday teenage stresses. I prioritize the day, and I smile with each blessing. And when the night falls, my ponderings return again. Vicious cycle, or human behavior? Maybe one day, my sighs will reveal the answer.

I am frustrated trying to create my image! I first tried to use paint shop to "clothe" a figure I found... and hated it. Then I even (with Nyyark's help) sketched one out....and I hate it. I found a picture from Amy Brown the artist off of google search, and I liked it a little, it encorporated some of the ideas I wanted. I cannot draw figures and I am really frustrated. Would someone help me, ormaybe do it fo me...lol...well if anyone feels sorry for me, please give me some adviseor Personal Message me. I am getting impatient trying to create and avitar or signature. Thank you.

An emptiness resides in the pit of my soul- A bittersweet strength. I long to overcome ancient lost battles. I yearn for returning pain. Perhaps a distraction from my future? The memories grow in my mind. I ache all over, in rediscovery. Invisible entities direct the day. Night awakens my fears. Shall I lose all control over my sanity? The lonliness swells inside. My heart beats unnaturally. I beg a higher power to relieve me- End this either way. Will my silent prayers be answered?