jonathan_wolfe

Just a thought, but for those who view but can't make the time to post a reply (too afraid to analyze, not enough time to write a reply, or the reply would be short) A kinda push button feedback mechanism would help give those who view, but don't post, an method of feedback. Kinda like a bunch of anonymous people in a crowd looking at the author and giving them a thumbs up Just a thought.

This is the kind of poetry I envy, whilst I can write from the heart, you my friend, can write from the mind, this poem is a delicate dance of vocabulary and wordplay. I loved that "Adverbs too" line, thanks to Yuki to explaining it's signifigance. And there is the thought of peaceful loss, you are already serene with the world so victory or defeat is not key to your harmony with the world, it is simply an event. Tres bien.

Writers block is the greatest fear, which is confounded by overthinking the though of writing. One method is to write the words that come to mind, it's not good for prose, but for poetry, letting the images, the sounds and the words flow can be one of the most dazzling experinces. Be like the wolf, exist only in the now.

I love that last stanza, it reminds me of a lot of eastern stories and fiction, such as Princess Mononoke who wore a mask for the first half of the movie until it was shattered by a shot from a musket, before then she was an anonymous spectre, but the mask definitely symbolized her whole personality. I wonder what (in the poem) was her mask and what took it away.

Glasswillow is actually a good friend of mine, she's been quite busy with her life but it is her birthday and if she isn't around, I let her know a few of you put in the effort to celebrate her birthday today

As am I glad to see most of everyone else around. I shall celebrate with a poem. Sailing in the Late Afternoon, newly posted in the Banquet Hall

The white canvas ripples in the fine crisp air. a warm breeze making the mood dozy, the clouds gracing the sun in a warm welcome let the dance begin. get up and dive into the air, whirl around up towards the sun and around the ceruclean sky diving down down near the great sea, racing, winding through the trees towards the afternoon sun. sweat on the brow, the glint off the the prow, brilliance of the glorious machines, sinewing the sky dip down low into the countryside, behind mountain's shadow, cool breeze, winding path strange land. tension leads to curiousity leads to interest. Climbing back up into the air to grace the sunny skys agains Once more it is time to sleep and let the white wings of the wind take us where they might go we see the albatross sail into the deep requious sky. and we smile. and we have peace.

Finally after months of absence, the ethereal form of Jonathan manifests itself in some obscure corner of the Tavern. He pulls his brown hood back from his head and smiles, "I have returned"

*Jonathan pads into the room, slightly surprised* I don't recall telling anyone about this. Oh well, I'm quite pleased that people noticed as I'm having a hard time with that at home *He takes the etch-a-sketch in hand and holds it upside down and shaking it... then laughing as a XP boot screen is drawn upon the red object before he draws a giant robot and makes a note to hang it on the wall of his loft room in the Pen's hold.* *Hugs Wren back* Thank you everyone, I hope to enjoy this too. I think it's time to break out the Gingerbeer and Jata sticks for everyone to enjoy! Thanks.

And when the hourglass has run out, the hourglass of temporality, when the noise of secular life has grown silent and its restless or ineffectual activism has come to an end, when everything around you is still, as it is in eternity, then eternity asks you and every individual in these millions and millions about only one thing: whether you have lived in despair or not. Soren Kierkegaard "The Sickness Unto Death" (And don't forget the quote in my signature)

No more pengies for tassie... Take care and hope you come back someday!

This poem seems to linger on past love... a deep seated feeling of regret/anger/nostalgia It captures all the paradoxical feelings that occur when two people part ways in life under bad terms.. Though I wonder how "She" feels in all this. Give me more, I hunger for emotion.

I'm interested in how some of you caught the Writer's Block feeling, and a few took it a different way... I wonder if that's because I took my writers block and then realised halfway through writing this, that I felt apathetic in general. This is about as depressing as I can get, I must compensate soon with a neat emotion poem.

Sitting, posture wrong, slumped eyes drooped, mind a fog a grey wall the room is hot, fans are blowing endless spinning, play of shadows soft breeze I feel I feel like the grey wall and the grey wall is around me glass ceiling artificial limit lack of self discipline waiting for what? probably for this life to be over whether it be a day or a century away

This was perfect for length, the whitespace kept it legible and the intrest so high, I didn't want it to stop! I definitely look forward to more writing like this.

Happy birthday o' man of leaking poetryness!

Jon runs in and hugs his winged friend heartily, dropping down his massive portfolio and immediately showing up what he's been up to in Bhurin's abscene. Proper conversation will either come later or perhaps this is what they do a good part of the time, talking profusely, looking at creative work and making jokes about frogs. Stay a minute, stay a year, welcome back Bhurin! or should I say WINGS BOY! *Runs*

I'm surprised it wasn't invented a lot earlier than that. Thank god for smileys I tell you. What's also curious is the japanese assimilation of our smiley technology, forcing the whole smiley landscape to change form, become a vertical concept and to become about 100 times cuter. I mean damn... what looks nicer? or :-) Watch the bulletin board make picture smileys out of this whole thing

*Chuckles* I appreciate the comments, though I beg you to look closer, what this man seeks is not a way to end it all but that he's finally found his inner peace. He carries a great burden on his shoulders, and he's dealt with that, and her clinging to the illusion of his innocence is an image he prefers. If that makes any sense.

He's not 35 years old, he's uh..... integer inverse_age; inverse_age = (get life_expectancy) - (get age); [error] life_expectancy Not found! X years young! D'oh, gotta work on that script.

Chairs are my enemy, so are table corner, doors and walls, many many stupid tales of encounters with them And yet when someone tosses me an object, either I catch it perfectly with a snatch catch, or I can juggle the object about 10 times before saving it. Or the time I caught a pan one handed by slamming it against the side of the counter as it fell and flipped it back into the dishrack I can't tell, I think I'm clumsy for show.

String of vitae, ever winding cord cut regrowth, never was cut only hid from the blade... Where did it go? Silence, or boredom, which I don't know I see the sunlight, the sky... oh how everyone can see the sky why can't only I see it? The way things are. Never hopeless, and hopeless. Fire and Ice, what ever happened to water and oil? even water and oil don't mix. Mercury, stars are rising, sunrise. I think too much, hearing the songs of magic in my ears Forget all that. There is a reason but I cannot remember anymore It's faded. I dream. I see those wings again... It's lost. No, only changed. Gregorian chants Ever mulling and rising, paragon of hope and virtue. and I rise to meet it. Now I feel at peace, my heart has mended... let me slip into the darkness, the... This can't be happening... where.. I... Impossible, this was the end? No, it's beginning again Down and down down down down pain sorrow hate evil darkness white.

Is this one of those times, we think back or think forward. Times are good and joyful Though we may be dark, we prefer the light That's how she said it and we prefer it to our own So we embrace it and cherish it. Not a lie. Just preception of truth. The darkness will come back and again, shall I succumb to it But her light, shall remind me of what I prefer Never again. We are the end, blue blue skies.

I recall fond memories of going to the dryer after a fresh load and cleaning out the lint trap, creating from pure dust and well.. stuff.. a dustbunny of gargantuan proportions, a veritable dustzilla. I shoulda tried to shape it into a rubber suited man form before tossing it.

I do hope my occasional signature isn't a bother, it's only 32kb. I might even make a half-height one to cut down on screen waste. I like what he said because he didn't just say, "This is the policy" He explained exactly why things are the way they are, Dammit Pered, now I feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Don't you worry, if we learned to act sensibly, why can the young'uns learn? We all were new to the Pen at some time or another. I'd encourage any of the new people to contact me on MSN or any other of those networks, gladly talk to you about matters of the Pen or anything else. Maybe all you people need is some help in this vast sea of... Well I guess poetry, we produce at least 15 new ones a day. Take care everyone