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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

Rahsash Geldich

Quill-Bearer
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About Rahsash Geldich

  • Birthday 12/12/1986

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  • Gender
    Male
  • Feedback Level
    Anything and everything you have to offer, I'd appreciate.

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Profile Information

  • Location
    College! YESSSS!!!!!
  • Interests
    So, I'm officially a theatre B.F.A. student. I'm becoming a professional Ideallist.

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  1. Hmm, I have a test I probably should be studying for now... O well! Nice poem, and a happier subject is a nice change of pace in the Banquet Room.
  2. Thanks! I think the So is actually part of my style, adding an extra beat to the last line of a stanza is an odd habit of mine that usually makes it flow better in my head. Thank you again for your comments!
  3. Too easy to hurt Too easy to break So easy to marr And so hard to re make If you must love Know what you take Hearts will still bleed From one old mistake
  4. She followed the man out of the inn, the overheard voices in her mind also. This man was ambitious, which was not the same as evil. She would find out his purposes. In a test, she let him hear her footfalls. His move. OOC: Are you in charge of your own charrie or can other people RP them too?
  5. Men and Oranges Coming home from school one day, There was a hunger in my belly That simply wouldn't be ignored By veggin' out via the telly. So I turned it off to look around And what would I espy? A fruit of sunny color Lying close nearby. After valiant battles fought With siblings for posession, I must profess, ashamedly, This rather odd confession. I couln't peel the blasted thing! Its bitter peel refused to crack! I glared at it and grabbed a knife, My thoughts on a delightful act. To stab, and gut, and eat it up Would fill up every need Except the want to savor Was taking away my greed. So I used the knife to gently pry The outer shell away Leaving the juicy filling "How marvelous" I say And that bit of agitation Alright-hatred, led To a deep and special bond With fruit of mixed yellow and red (to all of you who missed finger-painting 101 as a child, red and yellow make orange.) Well, not the best thing ever concocted, and not exactly a love poem, but close enough for government work.
  6. It reminds me of satire in that wonderful way of hearing something said that should be innocent is taken very not so. Snickeringly hilarious.
  7. It kinda has the feeling of a song, and some deep thoughts that don't really come out as well as they could. Very lyric though, and sweet. Reminded me of a rock lullaby. (I hope you know what I meant by that)
  8. The Secret Box is one of those metaphors I use a lot, I'm glad that it's felt. Thanks for posting!
  9. Thank you very much! I'm using it for my portfolio piece, and I'm very happy with how it turned out.
  10. Thanks for your comments you guys! And mostly, the thoughts-on-a-line are my adaptation of free verse. If I write too much my thought patterns start to do that in my head.
  11. Very sweet, and it sounds like a lullaby. Sad, but not too much. Kinda like a gentle rain... Okay, so its rainy outside and it puts me in a drifty mood, he he.
  12. I'll tell myself Its the coffee That makes my hands- Quiver- as they reach Across the ocean of space Between our desks To follow those Familiar lines I have once traced That are the face I know so well This feeling of Fluttering wings With little thorns Is hunger in my belly Not- me craving Your hand on my back In my hair, brushing, Soothing my tears. Coaxing them to close My throat with their pressure I think I just need a drink. That will help cool My puffy eyes That sting in rememberance Of my soaked pillow That was surely Just a bad dream.
  13. There was very little originally to do, except get dressed for our first meeting. The "mandatory attire" for this meeting consisted of an itchy red blazer (mine was also too big for me), a white dress shirt (which I bypassed by wearing a tank top), and black pants (of which I had none). So, as an alternative, I wriggled into a pair of pantyhose, which I personally believe to be one of the great nessicary banes of a female's existence, and a black skirt. Skirts and I have just recently started complying with one another, mostly due to the fact that I am abnormally small in the waist for the breadth of my hips. I'm sure you can imagine my comfort. So we all go down to this meeting, which is in the Queen room. Whoever designed the names for this place was dense. A hallway directory would read more like a sentence phrase, in this case "Mary" "Queen" of "Scott". Anyways, back to what I was really talking about. There is an ocean of about six hundred people in red coats. And only five hundred chairs. Every one of the officers has an accent that makes the stereotype of Kentucky proud to exist and those who don't have it cringe in their chairs. Two muderous hours later we burst out with more enthusiasm than children deserting a school on the last day. Fast forward to about noon the next day. After a brakfast of a biscut, an apple and coffee, we had gotten dressed and accomplished our one purpose for this confrence at all by trying out for the Trading Pin Design. It was too early, and I with too little sleep, to be nervous. Stairs are hell in new pumps, by the way. So everyone had split their seperate ways, and I was left to entertain myself. Uht o. You can guess my absolute thrill of the idea of spending the next six hours flipping through bad daytime television in our toom, so I chose to take the least direct route there in hope something would attract my attention long enough. Wow o Wow did it. In the form of a male, whom obviously was well built under his white tee, and was going swimming from the looks of his trunks. He also had bare feet and sandy brown hair spiked up. I was admiriably casual, I thought, for my next move. Also gutsy, since I am about one of the shyest people in the world when it comes to meeting new ones. "Hey." He turned and glanced my way, sizing me up in a general manner. I gave him one of my biggest smiles and a hair flip to boot. I'm not a... how shall I put this... person who treats relationships lightly. I just think flirting can be very amusing for both parties involved if done properly. "Do you mind if I follow you around? All my group left me." "Sure, I don't care. I was just lookign for the other guy in my group." "There's only two of you?" "Yeah, what about you all?" "Eight or so, they're still trickling in." The thing that really hit me the hardest was his height. He couldn't have been taller than five nine, but I'm pretty short. Five four usually puts me eye to eye with a guy's collarbone. It was definitely nice to be looking at someones eyes and not craning your neck at the same time. They were brown, by the way.
  14. This hurts- A molten saw Ravaging nerves Frayed into snapping They flail at the air- Down I fall And abyss Of Nothingness Swallows me whole Icy tendrils thrust Their roots Ruthlessly Into my heart- The tempo slows Vines climb The trellace of my soul And they block The piercing rays Of the sun. It is too hard To uproot these weeds Of despair- They feed on my Discontentment And while they are ugly No one seems to notice; To want to pull them out And help me reach Up to the sun. This cocoon is Stronger than I And I can't see out. The shade is unending The darkness Is isolation It makes my head throb. Poison fruit rots The stench creeping Seeping bleak thoughts Into the hidden crannies Of my mind. I think I might crack- My skull jaggedly split Perhaps because My tears- Of release- are Stuck Trapped Unable to seep Down my face And shrivel These roots from Desert soil To rip off the foilage Covering the flaws Would be so exposing- Its so asy to hide But O! How I shrivel And am overtaken Obscured- Lost to oblivion here Let someone find me- Have some urge To see what lies Behind the bark of this plant with Tough limbs and Hidden barbed thorns Instill them with Courage Hope That what they find May yet again reach Up to the sun.
  15. Can I try? Just edit me out if not! The head of the village council paced. This stranger was curious, and so was she. A black cloaked allowed her to slip to the inn. A closed door, smell of blood, and feeling of the occult leaked through. Paitence was a virtue, even to the highest. She could wait.
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