Canid

I wish I were a proper poet, writing proper rhymes. Holding all in rapt attention to unique poetic time. I'd watch the audience draw their breath, as a mangled beast drew near to my heroic creation in pursuit of his love dear. They'd yell as they did battle, and cry to see him fall. They would wonder why I wrote an end so tragic to it all. Thus I'd sit in secret knowledge of the reason for my deeds: that a proper poet's goal is to confuse the one that reads.

Canid returns to her den the following evening to find all her moss and mushrooms eaten from the interior and baby rabbits bouncing in a carefree manner through all the openings to the various rooms of the pen. "Cor... they had a good time, didn't they...." Canid mutters wide-eyed to Prospero as she observes for herself the fabled prolific nature of rabbits. "I wonder if Minyex would consider switching to rabbit meat for a while." the other wolf replies. "Only if I cut them to look like fish..." "Why won't he eat anything but fish?" "No teeth." "What about piranhas?" "He's never seen one and the first person to introduce him to one will part with a vital organ." Prospero grins and several older rabbits dart nervously away. Canid begins to grin *her* grin.... "I wonder if Legman would be interested in making long eared fish...." "He's never dealt in aquatic animals." "Mmm." The grin remains. ~~~~*~~~~ Wyvern watches with satisfaction from the doors of The Mighty Pen, the pleased expression on Canid's face as she admires her birthday present with Prospero. Upon seeing the two wolves turn and head into the forest the overgrown lizard's mind turns immediately to more lucrative pursuits. He darts in and hustles on toward the Recruitment Office to procure the list of members who had not yet paid their fees. He swings the door of his office open and is greeted by what appears to be a colossal mound of living shredded paper. Or at least it seems to be living as it is wiggling about like jelly hit by a spoon. Wyvern reaches tentatively into the pile and withdraws one strip. The edges are rough and appear to have been bitten. Fuzzies? Wyvern looks at the writing on it: his own. "Valdar: Unpaid, Wiggly cabbages; Unpaid, Gwaihir: Un- this is my list!" The almost dragon looks indignantly at the pile. "You destroyed my list!" He pounds it with a scrawny, scaly wrist. A brown rabbit with red eyes emerges and stares menacingly at Wyvern. "Now look here," begins the almost dragon, "this is my office and you can't just...." he pauses. "You'll have to pay rent." Wyvern nods, pleased he had thought of a way to make the situation profitable. He closes his eyes and unrolls his claws with a polite, business gesture. "And I'm afraid you'll have to pay for the damages too. It will be about 200 geld for the shredded paper, 700 for maintenance, 400 for water bills, 200 electricity..." As he speaks, more rabbits emerge from the pile. Some carry letter openers, others have abnormally large teeth. All rabbits united in their determination to protect the 'nest' against invaders. "......so that totals around two-million-one-thousand-six-hundred-eighty-two geld. An extremely reasonable price for four weeks in such a desirable establishment as this!" Wyvern finishes triumphantly, finally opening his eyes. The 60 or so rabbits assembled infront of him wiggle their noses in unison...... Thank-you all for your birthday wishes and presents! I had a lovely day yesterday and wish you all happiness!

More of my mumbling comments... I am a heavy user of mechanical pencils and find that the clicking becomes very habitual and barely noticable - almost never an inconvenience. The lines produced are as bold and exact as any pen (which is actually the main reason why I like mechanical). And pens? I hate it when half the letters produced have gaps in them. For the fine ones, they either soak spots in the paper or their nibs break - I use them as rarely as possible. Very few pens I've found have neither of these problems - plus it is much easier to predict when a pencil will run out of lead. It is a real worry for me when I'm inking things in on a picture I've spent a long time on that the pen will cut out mid-way through and I'll have no way to complete it with the same type of line.... I do not look forward to writing the english exam... we HAVE to use pens..... :pen:

Am I then the only supporter of the mighty pencil? What greater utensil is there for any artistic medium? A mistake in pen when writing is permanent and my experiences with white-out have not been good. What creature wants a line dashed through their work, or messy scribbles concealing all to obvious blunders? The beauty of handwriting melts before errors in a stark and oft ugly correction. What do people working with wood use to mark measurements on their medium? No line of ink! But a thick line of pencil, precise and erasable incase it has been wrongly placed. And the diversity of pencil in art! The finest of lines from a highly sharpened or mechanical pencil... the textured, broad strokes of a blunt pencil that can be smudged to perfection yet not so easilly marred as tempermental chalks and pastels. Black and white beauty, dull or shiney, exact and correctable... Will any writer hold a laptop upsidedown in bed? But a sheet of paper... Can an artist, even with the most advanced of digital tools create exactly the same effect on their computer as on their page? Do not discard the advantages of simple carbon so easilly... a pencil is a more valuable tool than you think.

Having determined with certainty that Gyrfalcon was not in, Canid turned back into the forest to see how Prospero was getting on with his task. Legman had set up an experimental patch of forest within the pen woods. Canid had concealed it with some of her camoflage magic to prevent Gyrfalcon from locating it, but Legman, understandably paranoid ghost that he was had hidden it in space time - a little beyond her own magical reach. She had sent Prospero off to locate some of the creatures that would find their way into current bits of forest, in hopes of finding Legman's "floating toenail" as he had called it. As she went, she noted the availabillity of food from Wyvern to the local wildlife. The fuzzies were quick to learn of this, and shot toward the pen quite independantly...

Speaking of the bright side of life.... My new baby brother was born thismorning! Almost a 17-year gap, 'twill be fun! I have two other siblings - we are a very closely-knit familly - and it is also my father's birthday today. Needless to say it has been an exciting day. Cheers to everyone!

Canid dodged out of Wyvern's path as he rushed through the Cabaret Room doorway where she had been discreetly listening. She watched him tumble head-first down the stairs. Canid was generally what Wyvern had thought of as a "responsible Pen member"... but it could not be denied that she had a certain love of mischief possessed by every good humoured wolf. ...not to mention a sympathy for Wyvern fopr his failure doomed plan. She paused for a moment; reflecting. She could probably help reduce the law-breaking in this situation by taking a muzzle (the wolf equivalent of a hand) in the matter. Besides which... Canid was a strong believer in the virtues of curiosity, and Ezoob certainly was something she knew nothing of. The wolf turned and moved fluidly out of the building to track down Prospero, then find Gyrfalcon.

...an empty stage. Cameraman: What the heck? Footsteps approach and the camera is jolted down, then zoomed in on something small and fuzzy, no bigger than a mouse, but purple. It is leaning on a toothpick and wearing a top hat. Suddenly, it begins to dance: Fuzzy: If you're blue and you don't know, Where to go to, why don't you go, where fashion sits! The fuzzy swings the toothpick up in the air dramatically. Puttin' on the ritz! Different types go there with dates, Coat pants with stripes that cut away; coat perfect fits. The fuzzy taps the stage with its toothpick, which resultantly becomes lodged in the wood. The fuzzy squeaks angrily and rips it out along with a huge chunk of flooring which sails into the audience and knocks someone out. A huge foot comes down onto the fuzzy. The foot begins to shake. something behind it starts shredding the paper out of which it is made. When enough of it is torn away, the audience can see the purple fuzzy thing viciously clawing through the ankle. With a mechanical whirring, the decimated foot grinds its way back up into the air. The furious fuzzy rips out another piece of stage and hurls it skyward. It hits the mechanism raising the foot and the entire apparatus swings off-stage with a camera shaking crash. The fuzzy looks at the camera. It squeaks. The things launches itself with renewed vigour at the camera and after a brief chaotic rumble the screen goes black.

Canid paded with grace over to the fridge, completely ignoring the shuddering Wyvern, but quietly enjoying the nervous twitches and poorly disguised attempts to hide both his thoughts and a bit of paper from her. It was quite simillar, really, to the behaviour of a doomed rabbit she was stalking. She removed a series of strange looking, though possibly edible items from an invisible pack she carried about on her back, placing each in the fridge in turn and shaking her head as Wyvern's nervousness turned to a greedy curiosity. Canid turned around, closing the pack. Wyvern was looking at her, almost trancelike with scheming. Canid narrowed her eyes. Prospero crashed into the wyvern, closely pursued by Waterlilly. Canid noted that one of her tentacles was missing.

What I meant was, if someone only has one thing to point out (ie "This poem is extremely well constructed, but the patern breaks down in line 5."), they are not very likely to feel comfortable starting an entire new thread to say it, so it won't get said, and may be exactly what the author needed.

I actually really dislike the rule about not commenting in the threads. It seemed very discouraging to me - especially for people who just want to leave short, usefull comments. The only reason I finally posted there was because that rule seems to have been discarded (at least by the users).

Canid, sitting unnoticed near-by overhears. "Me?" She exclaims the second she hears this outrageous accusation. "I almost never give out cooked food! The cabbage chocolates were decontaminated with my magic after cooking." Canid is by now, standing face to belly with Gyrfalcon; tail up, ears erect and nostrills flared. "No need to get angry, Canid..." Gyrfalcon soothes gently, "Prospero said you'd prepared a special batch for the Pen for Easter. I got a mouth full of-" "Prospero?" Canid looks alarmed. "He said he wanted those coaco pods for beetle deterant for the mint!" The wolf looks suddenly menacing. "No wonder I lost my favourite rabbit burrough! That greedy, scheming..." She glances up at Gyrfalcon, says "Thank-you." and scoots off. A moment later Wyvern walks in. "Hello everyone!" He smiles toothily and pulls out a tray covered in fine food linen. "Prospero gave me an exquisite deal on some fine easter chocolate bunnies, so I bought his entire stock and I will be selling every one for an all time low price of 10 geld each!"

....my jaw litterally dropped open in shock when I saw your name there..... Canid is unable to express her surprise and delight at your sudden return... her horror at what has befallen you and her joy to hear you are back on your feet. Canid bows to the little blue mage, who finds himself quickly overrun with small purple fuzzy things picking through his pockets. You'll find out who they are I'm sure.... WELCOME BACK!!!!

Ooooh! A commentary to reply to! *clears throat* It wasn't supposed to evoke corporations. I actually mentioned it in my little pre-poem warning, but it's not my typical poem, and those few lines, staring with "Righteous liar" were in refferance to Bush. That particular insult is what I see him as.The morning I wrote the poem, I had watched a snippet of his speech on the news. His expression was "can't you see I'm trying to help you" as he prommised that after the war, his intentions were to make life better for the Iraqi people. He goes on with an adress to the Iraqi soldiers, threatening to punnish them if they followed orders to do certain things he named, the first among his demands was "Do not destroy the oil wells." which really put his priorities in perspective. I was in the hall. Mummy was in the kitchen. The news from the radio was passed to me -I'm not a heavy metaphorical writer. I can't excuse the "clumsy line" really - other than it being free form. I'll note it for future use that long lines detract. As for the previous line, there was no full stop intended; merely a pause. If I had been keeping it grammatically correct I would have put in a semi-colen, but I didn't want to break it up that much - no actual reason. For those of you she was refering to; I am something of a Bio-nut. Class is one of the levels of classification in Taxonomy. It is where we are divided up into mammals, reptiles, etc. On second thought I should have used the top level: Kingdom. The whole poem was about pollitics and I wanted to lead it back from the bio-branch I had led it onto(as I tend to do). Even so, I needed it there because it led into the last stanza in calling the modern era a time of peace. Thank-you very very much for reviewing it - I find it very interesting to read those - And thank-you also to all those who read and commented; I enjoy hearing people's opinions, whether they agree with mine or not.

Canid trots in happily, fashionably late in a "Happy Wyvern Day!" cloak, Prospero beside her and trailed by a procession of alligators on either side of a column of purple fuzzies carrying something very, very large - about the size of Minyex (her pet dragon) infact - covered in a huge Wyvern-red blanket. "Happy birthday Wyvern!" chimes the wolf. "I arranged for a special gift to be retrieved from the alligator's river for your birthday; so this is from all of us." The wolves step aside and the procession stops as what could be a single purple fuzzy (it's hard to tell because the object covers it like a bannana leaf placed over an ant - only more-so) moves forward, singularly supporting the gift. Wyvern reaches forward tentatively and pulls off the blanket, revealing..... A solid geld coin with a six-foot radius, recognizable as the one that had sunk into the mud of the alligator river some months back. The fuzzy beneath the coin begins squeaking, the squeaks barely recognizable as words: "Happy birthday to you! This present's for you! We hope you don't like it, 'Cause we want it too!" The fuzzies between the alligators nod with great repidity; Canid gives them a scowl.

Just a warning to you prior read - this is not my usual thing. It is much more harsh (not in language of course) than my normal work and also differs in that it is scouring of a specific individual. Also note that the third-fith lines of the second paragraph are meant to be adressing said individual, not the reader - just incase there's any confusion; and the punctuational errors are all deliberate. I really try to keep things as unoffensive as possible normally - but this isn't the sort of thing I can write and stow away. So I appologize in advance if anyone takes offense to this and will understand if they want to reply as such. There’s oil sitting on a sea, Smothering the life below and poisoning the anaerobes with a deadly mix of hairspray and ignorance. Deliberate. It seeps through every orifice it can find on me - I’m not dead yet. It’s not even revenge any more, Though revenge was never good. Greed. We’ve been against you from the start: Righteous liar. Your first plea to the enemy, “Do not destroy the oil wells.” Radio; this morning news is passed to me through my mother. The anti-war websites are going to disappear. Not by choice of course – I don’t think they even offered an excuse They just don’t want more people reading what will cause more opposition than there already is. Their will forced on us. Their opinions. And the voice of majority, basis of democracy Openly Closed. He wants money so we must ignore each other. No choice. What happened to freedom of speech? Barbaric and primal. We aren’t animals Ha. If they knew what was happening, They’d be ashamed to be in the same Class as us. Poor and lucky wildlife. I’m a human; how grotesque. Our problems build up – each more serious than the last. Whine. War in this ear, Nightmare. Five years ago there was hope. How can he even claim to be democratic? The hatred-worshipper's in power in the time of peace. Peace. Please let me cry? No? Then I’ll just hover below the surface, And look across through the oil.

That is exactly what I was saying reverie, , hence:

*Canid clears her throat and tentatively offers her opinion, obviously outspoken as she is.* I voted. I voted yes. *looks around* That is not to say I think debates should be started simply for the purpose of debating, whether it intended to be intelligent or not - I would not approve of that. But a debate starting naturally from someone wanting to voice their opinion and argued with the utmost respect for other people's opinions, not to mention their feelings, is definately something that should be acceptable here. On most boards, I have no hesitation in saying that it probably would turn into a situation where people get upitty and hurt, but here, from observation and past experience, I feel it safe to say it is much more safe. I have seen (and written in) debates here on religion, abortion... and felt free to post a rather controvercial poem in support of home-parenting. None of them turned into anything offensive and all were of interest and merit from an educational point of view. I think it is a very positive thing if people here can feel free to express their opinions on delicate matters - for some people, it may be the only public way they can.

I haven't had a chance to read the Pen for the last week or so, or I would have replied to this a lot sooner... That said... A: I'M A QUILL BEARER!!!!! *Canid accepts the simple phoenix feather quill, tears in her eyes and passes out promptly, leaving her writer to say the rest.* B: Just my opinion here, maybe isolated but I think it's important. From what I've gathered, the Pen is Mightier than the Sword is a long-term community. Many people have been here for years. Thus it seems only right that members be promoted in the long term and two months, to me at least, seems insufficient time. It also seems to mean more that way but again, that might just be me. I'd be more than happy if promotions were done every six months - it's not forever, but it's time enough to see the full range of a person's abillities. C: When do we get our Quill-Quests?

A well written book should have the reader feeling empathy for the characters. That said, Strabo from the Landover series by Terry Brooks.

Ah.. there we go. I remember what I had to say. We are already rewarded for our artistic efforts at the Pen by gaining rank and therein gaining access to member forums of the Pen. But this reward is not given in a competitive sense and is awarded on an individual to individual basis, as a mark of our overall contributions as opposed to month by month activity. As the wise people above me said, never be afraid to present an idea: i.e. not trying to be negative, just so you know.

...perhaps it is just my own strange little brainwaves bobbing to the surface, but I really, really don't like the idea. It is hard not to make group things a competition. I know personally I rarely get an idea for a piece of writing that I like enough to act on, and peer at the boards here quite frequently, looking at the mass of quallity writing other people produce and feeling like I'm almost not entitled to post conversationally here for the amount I contribute in poems and stories. But I know that's not what it's about - that I post what I CAN in art is what matters and that with time, maybe I'll get to the point where I find as much to write about as the people here I admire. Having a member of the month would make it a competition - to me it would take from the idea that if you post what you can, you are doing your bit. I thought I had more to say... but I've forgotten what so I'll leave it as is and post again if I remember.

At present, I have two strong recomendations, one is on this board by our Elder of initiates, Wyvern. It will be one of the Archive posts in the Banquet Hall since it is pre-move: Orchestra of the Unheard The second is a The Raven. I won't post it since it is quite long - but.... *Canid trails off in dazed admiration.*

Might there be an option with the boards to have a verification email sent to members when they sign up? I know it's a hassle, but as it is only a one-time thing and this is obviously causing problems it would be a good preventative solution.

*Canid attempts to applaud you for a well written poen, but encounters the regular problem of paws and so barks her approval instead.* As a personal comment, I don't see fear as a bad thing, nor as something a person should dislike in themselves. If you fear something, there is a reason for it, and it is a very instinctive awakening. The problems with fear are rooted in the mutations that general human society has undergone. In it's propper setting, fear is very much a positive thing. Just my little wolfie ramblings - as I said, very well written. :yuismile: