Ozymandias

The random strings of intergalactic and fantastical imagery felt like something out of a crazed pipe dream

Is it wrong that this makes me proud?

(incidentally, it was supposed to be bizarre, so I'm glad to hear that)

Thank you both!

A-ha. Thankya!

Sure thing;

Here, the main analogy seems to be between someone (or something) being like your first cigarette- cigarettes being quite addicting.

In 'Angry Horse' you said in your later posts specifically that the poem is about addiction.

Even 'The Wind in Tow', you talk about "going in circles" and "grinding the gears", which make it sound like the speaker started off willingly in the trip, but is now stuck in it.

Is this a recurring theme of addiction, or just coincidental?

It is a bit heavy on the Greek myth imagery- but not in an interrupting, or at all displeasing to the reader way; the images you chose, especially having Echo and Narcissus, then Morpheus being referenced almost back to back made it sound like a good romantic poem. I wouldn't have known it was about your brother if you hadn't stated that outright.

Otherwise, especially since this seem like it's an older piece, it seems that you've had a very solid style and very mature writing for a long while now.

I noticed the distinct Greek theme you have going in yor poems in here, and keep hoping it keeps up. A very mythological background have I as well (mainly Greek and British).

*snerk*

I echo with a "Holy crap."

You shift gears so abruptly yet smoothly by the line "Lock them in their little holes" that it flows as realistically as going for a nice, peaceful drive, then suddenly being slammed into by an oncoming car you didn't see does.

My only complaint is the line "Wakening the walls to the show." That was the only point in the whole thing where I actually had to stop and search for what something meant (what walls?, to be specific) in a poem that otherwise ran like water.

VICIOUS water.

*brings Pered and Kiku sympathy cocoa. With tiny sympathy marshmallows.*

Even when you write about grim times/settings such as you write here, Kiku, your work is always a joy for me to read. The way you write is so very reminiscent of the oldest building blocks of fantasy stories that I read this one, and after guiltily *remembering* that winter and you get along this way, my next thoughts were of Hans Christian Andersen's 'The Snow Queen' quickly followed by Hades and Persephone- and that happens with one epic or another in every piece I read of yours.

Those times and places are happier, more hopeful ones for me, always have been, so reading your work always picks *me* up. Thank you.

I like this- it's not often one finds cigarette smoking sounding attractive.

I especially enjoyed the third stanza; it read so much like an allegory of losing one's breath to a cigarette as allegory to love taking one's breath away than the whole rest of the poem; and did I see some reference to making her leave in "Then it blows them all away.

Then the wind no longer speaks.

There is nothing left to say."?

I tend to think not, because the last stanza is so peaceful and hopeful, but I got too curious not to ask.

There's this and 'Angry Horse'- is there an addiction pattern/series developing here?

The Gathering Storm, book twelve in The Wheel of Time by Robert Jordan and now Brandon Sanderson as well will release on Tuesday.

For anyone on the East Coast of the U.S.A, Brandon Sanderson will be in Arundel Mills mall in Hanover, MD, autographing it on Thursday at seven o'clock P.M. sharp.

I'll be there too- just look for the only nametag that says 'Peter'.

(wish me luck!! O_o)

Counting one by one by one by one by one

It tells me one by one by one by one by one

by one

As we go out into the planetary systems

there are always gases that expand

Aliens are laughing as we turn about the neighbors

But it really doesn't really matter we explore

as we're holding hands

It tells me one one by one by one by one by one

Counting one by one by one by one by one...

The shine, the burn, the emptiness,

superhot volcanic glass increases pressure as we land

The ground it looks up quizically

The sky will always wait and see

what wonders are awaiting in the sand

Counting one by one by one by one by one

It tells me one by one by one by one by one

by one...

Time it stops stops indef'nitely

as the future flies by gracefully

empires and rhinos find their end

We're in the sky, come dance with me

as rocks and waters wave a parting hand

And they fall one by one by one by one by one by one

by one

It tells me one by one by one by one by one by one

by one...

And we dance,

one and one

• Unseen Academicals, the new Discworld proper (not Tiffany Aching & the Wee Free Men) novel is in stores. Haven't read it yet, but it's Pratchett, so it's safe to assume engaging plot, and effing funny.
• And Another Thing, part six of Douglas Adams' The Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy trilogy, by Eoin Colfer (of Artemis Fowl fame) is in stores now, and I can only say. GOOD. Maybe we'll finally get "Young Zaphod Plays it Safe" #$@%&wrapped up!! Gah!!
• Arkham Asylum: 15th Anniversary Edition, by Grant Morrison and Dave McKean just hit stores in hardback and paperback. If anyone's wondering, yes it IS the Dave-McKean-who's-painted- about-50%-of-Neil-Gaiman's-comic-books-AND-created-Mirrormask-with-him Dave McKean. All else I have to say is, Poor Two-Face.

• Robert Jordan and Brandon Sanderson's Wheel of Time, book twelve, will be released on October Twenty-ninth. There are two more to follow.
• Where the Wild Things Are hits theatres on October Fifteenth. Even though the Wild Things seem less violent than they should, I hope they do pre sales on the tickets. It looks PRETTY, like your first image ever of a castle pretty.
• Star Wars: Death Troopers is out in hardback. Star Wars has zombies now, too. Huzzah! No sparkling!!

heloooooo

 

I'm Meg

14

as my name suggests, an "authorwannabe"

I enjoy writing poetry, and usually start some books (never really finish... *sniffle*)

 

thats about it

 

meg

x

Allo, and bienvenidos.

My sympathies, too; those sound rather like my own writing habits.

You're writing more smoothly with age, Mon Capitan. This one flowed like water. Rough waters, but still.

Lest I forget: I have to say fun poem, too. I could hear the stomp of Frodo's feet on Butterbur's table again...

Ah, but those were the days, when we had hobbity things and a freestyle kitten... Much livelier, at the least. :>)

(*poke* *poke*, if that's one of you reading this. ;>) )

A werewolf, an orc, and a sleeping girl sit in a semicircle around an Egyptian.

The sleeping girl ducks. The Egyptian grins ruefully.

Her body does not stir; however an ethereal woman in the dress of an ancient Athenian noble appears over her sleeping form and sticks her tongue out at him.

"I can see your mind wander, remember?". Sora asks him. Seated in the lotus position, Ozymandias harumphs in mock offense.

"Oh.I do at that." He stuck his tongue out in return. The werewolf arched an eyebrow, but said nothing, only swirling his martini distractedly.

The orc watched intently as well, steadily tapping the hilt of his knife against his ever present plate mail.* Coughing once, Ozymandias returned to his dealings. Three cards went to each person.**

Ozymandias studied his, then looked up at the three looking expectantly at him.

"Well?", he said. "It's your move."

~~

OOC:

Gravia, Sora, you've proven you know what's what around here long ago (sorry about the wait!), so welcome to the rank of Page.

Hjolnai, you've proven that AND more than a little bit of willingness to roll up your sleeves and work hard around here. You've earned the rank of Quill-Bearer.

Congratulations. ^^

*Any who knew Morse Code would know Ordolar was, in fact, tapping out D-O-R-K while feeling somewhat pleased with himself for managing not to snicker at the same time.

**Gravia's cards: Poetry Out Loud!, Finding Forrester, and Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger. Sora's cards: Mirrormask, Ella Minnow Pea, and

***Certain creative liberties taken with character concepts created by fellow Pennites that I hope were funny. If they weren't...Wyvern did it.

More!!!!

Maybe a cowboy and a pirate?

Cyborg and an Alien?

Taxi Driver and a Cop?

Pleeeeease?

*slaps forehead*

I JUST got that...

• Trust most the friends who will make absolutely sure you get to bed when you're drunk.
• Karaoke is a wonderful way to tell when you've had enough/too much to drink.
• If she has a better zombie movie collection than you, yes, that's a good sign.

• If you're starting to crack, do something different.
• Watching Iron Chef will make Chicken McNuggets taste less appetizing.
• Only defend with violence if you must.
• Make the phone call.
• Remember that the mark of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, and expecting different results.
• Insanity is not fun; you need your mind. Others do too.
• Longhair is not for everyone.
• Make sure what you're about to wipe off really is dirt.
• Stephen King movies make for poor lighting.

Moments later, Ran started when Kikuyu's shadow turned its head independently of its owner, and waved at her.

Simultaneously, Sora shrieked when she realized there was a Rat Skeleton in a black cloak and fur coat sitting on her knee and it turned to give her a little wave.

It also seemed to be carrying a steam powered clockwork scythe that sported a blade reminiscient of a flock of birds, so she was hardly blamed for screaming.

Below, Ozymandias pinched the bridge of his nose, and slowly shook his head before studiously taking another bite of his fourth bratwurst.

I once knew a man who could talk only with his hands.

 

Now I don't mean to say that through his hands he made his point known through gesture or signs. No, for this man to communicate with his fellow living beings he merely had to place a hand on them and they're feelings would exchange. It was communication at its most basic. No silly misunderstandings over complicated things like tone or grammar. There was never an instance where his words were too difficult for anyone nor too simple. His exact meaning was conveyed every time, with no misrepresentations and no barriers. And I shall never forget that man. Not because of his odd method of conversation, the world has seen far stranger things than a man who could talk only with hands. I will remember him because when we parted, he took my hand in his and told me that he loved me. .....

I waved goodbye as he left, and he made me smile in spite of myself by turning and waving a last "hello". He turned away, and I watched him go until he disappeared from view.

I stood there watching his path for a long time before I too finally took my leave, as I did, noticing people around me clenching their fists as they passed, people snapping their fingers, people cracking their knuckles, people jabbing pointer and middle fingers at each other, and I watched this for a long time too.

The next man I passed, I stopped, and held out my hand to. His face did many things in a very short span of time. Then he took my hand and shook it firmly.

My pleasure. For what it's worth, I've been writing poetry on and off since high school, and I'm still greatly dissatisfied with most of what I write- but I've heard no such reaction ever from readers, even my family (and you know you can count on family to be brutal. ).

So you never know!

This one feels like lakeside, or cloudwatching reflections. You're a very thoughtful type, aren't you?