Psimon

Here's one I wrote for the wedding of the twin brother of my best man... whew! Anyway... the marriage lasted a year! I was so sad

(hopefully my poem had nothing to do with it!)

The Poet's Dream

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Awake, I see the ocean

vast and powerful in actions

and words echo on it's shores

Beauty in it's life and motions.

Asleep, I see the rose

budding in the wilderness hazy

throwing off the rocks and stones

that make this world so crazy.

Enriched with time, it grows

as I see you both together

reveals the ocean and the rose

that is your love forever.

May your love for each other know no bounds

May it set the world on fire and the stars dim beside it

May angels and heroes weep at the beauty there

May you live forever within it.

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Sorry for the sudden flood people... I've not contributed for so long, I felt I'd better get off my - dare I say it? - *sexy* butt and post something. (no nasty comments from the gallery on the sexy butt comment pls LMAO )

Anyway... Peace. Out.

Reaver

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Sitting here waiting for the bell to toll

the hammer to fall and the race to start

with heavy breathing in the background now

bestill my throbbing heart

Lust is the base, the core of cause

and effect but do what you want to me

till love is what you find and what you feel

love me till the end, more fools we

Unburden your soul, reveal yourself to my sight

and I will take everything you are, as I must

Break you down and build you up once more

how can you, in me, have trust?

Struck to the bone of love's quick folly

bared of all that was and will be, leave it.

Retreat within the walls of tension and safety

My fangs of misfortune have bit

And the bell swings, strike chord and discord

drum rolls and the fire within me burns high.

The time has come and fantasy is loose again

to my arms now you must draw nigh

The spell is complete, the dye is but cast

you are forever mine and will never leave

_ until time itself is devoured and sated

your body and soul I do cleave

I savour the blood of your tears...

and I laugh.

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Offering protection from a hard, laughing wind.

Giving friendship to those who need it most.

Wrapping the bone-weary in most tender arms

to hearten those down-trodden and despaired.

When one has delivered one's best account

of what one alone could not have seen

yet remembered from so long ago, the time

walking through silent halls alone.

Then would you realise the import of the day.

To be together, yet alone, perhaps to share

a better time than this bitter loneliness

which would tear my heart asunder.

Oui, j'ai vécu... (Yes, I have lived...)

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I have oft looked into my glass orb,

seen the future, the past, the now

I have wept bitter tears

and sighed as would a lover satisfied

I have seen children crying

for lack of food, for lack of love

I have heard their lamentations

and my heart has broken in sorrow

I have seen lovers embrace

exploring, tenderly pushing

the boundaries of their longing

and my heart has soared in joy

I have seen killers loose on the innocent

the weapons of mass annihilation

in the name of their gods

and my blood has stirred to anger

I have seen myself lost

in a void of time and space

with no escape and no ending

and my blood has chilled with fear

I have seen a flower bloom

in the desert sands

where no life could exist

and my mind has been stilled in reverence

Yes, I have seen a great many things

I have felt a great many emotions

I have tasted my tears

and I have caught my breath in awe

Yes, I have lived

Lumière d'un enfant (Light from a child)

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It is safe and warm here in my tower

but outside only a fool would tread quickly.

Savagery, barely contained by the leash of possibility

rages against the stars

The intensity of the flashes blinds me

but only for a few moments

then my sight is restored

until the next exposion of light

A storm such as this

could take a single life or many

or destroy hearth and home, farm or town

turning stone to powder and timber to ash

I am aghast and agape as I stare

into the endless void of the night.

A small tot, a lad of few summers,

has stolen freedom from his crib or cot

The boy delights in the fury of the maelstrom,

rejoices in the brutality of the tempest.

He skips, he jumps and laughs outrageously

throughout his infantile gambling.

In a flash of light and loud explosion

he is gone from my view and I wonder

was he ever there or perhaps just the product

of my overworked imagination, yes?

Where have you gone, my Child of the Storm?

Where do you frolick now, little one?

Speaking as one who is 'missing' half of my 'identity' (I do not know, and almost certainly will never know, who my natural father is/was) I think cloning of whole human beings is wrong on just so many levels.

The gaping hole that opens under me at times when I try to understand what part of me is my father, and having no idea who he is, where he is, what he is like, what I *may* look like as I grow older, what he may have been able to pass on to me by way of family history, cultural identity (I *do* know that he was British, just like my adopted-father (is that the right term? *shrugs*)) and so much more that a father bequeaths to a son; and knowing that still, I am a unique individual (I believe created by God)... That anguish must be as nothing to someone who has no father or mother (in *any* sense of the terms), but is the result of a sterile injection of combined DNA in a lab somewhere... and is not unique, but a carbon copy (mutations notwithstanding)... *shudders*

As Princess Bun-Head put it in Thumb-Wars... "Bad is Bad, Good is Good... Your badness will be your undoing, while our goodness will be our triumph... Bad, bad... Good, good... bad...[etc etc]"

Live long and prosper...

"The Force is like duct tape.... It has a Light side and a Dark side, and it binds the universe together" (or something like that!)

I, for one, would most certainly notice (but I could be a little biased, neh? )

A beautiful piece from a beautiful person

My earnest reply (if I were priviledged enough to have the opportunity):

Would they notice

....

the tears on the pillow

dried on my skin as I hold you close in repentence

my bandaged hand

wet from my tears of regret

the broken glass in the garbage

retrieved as a reminder to me of how I let you down

the fist of wrinkles in one shirt

ironed away as I ponder your selfless efforts

the glass that was missing

replaced by a crystal rose

Would they notice

Yes...

a warm body in the bed

and to bask in the warmth of your heart

lunches made

enjoyed knowing the soft hands that prepared the meal

the booboo kissed

the gentleness of your smile

the floors washed

walking barefoot to your side

the dog walked

together, so glad to share nature's beauty with you

the laundry clean ,folded and put away

again, together as I listen to you share your thoughts and emotions

If the dishes were done

after I had cooked you a meal, run your bath, and warmed the massage oils...

I would notice.

I disagree that things are black and white, right or wrong, good or bad.

Speaking from personal experience (as a Grey/Drow elf, Druidic demi-god of Nature, and Keeper of The Balance) I can assure you that things are most assuredly black and white, right or wrong, good or bad.

It is merely, as you so eloquently put it, Ayshela, the perceptions of the individual which determines the degree (or 'shade') thereof.

To quote myself, if I may... (You may) Why thank you... (You're most welcome):

Good and Evil are simply two sides of the same coin

and to extend that thought further:

Good and Evil, Black and White, right and wrong are simply shaded facets of infinitely faceted gems that we collect each and every moment of our existence, and pass along to those we have the privilege to meet in those moments

My goodness, that took a lot out of me... I think I need to lie down for a while...

Congrats Mighty Elder of Initiates!

My present was sent some time ago, but it seems to have gotten lost in the post...

And my card was also sent several weeks ago... but, um... it too has vanished into the postal ether...

Oh, and my email was sent automatically just the other day... but we, er... well, we um, had a server crash and all the emails were deleted....

But the thought was there!!!!!

Well done all promotees!

Growth is pain, pain is growth...

>"But what makes these 'experts' preach their opinion and call it truth?" asked the inquirer. "Is it an inheritance of humankind to do this, or is it merely something they gain satisfaction from?"<

Maybe, maybe not... for what is 'Truth'?

>"Apart from consciousness," answered the Buddha, "no absolute truths exist. False reasoning declares one view to be true and another view wrong. It is delight in their dearly held opinions that makes them assert that anyone who disagrees is bound to come to a bad end. But no true seeker becomes embroiled in all this. Pass by peacefully and go a stainless way, free from theories, lusts and dogmas.":unsure:

Disclaimer:

Just my thoughts. Please do not attach any theories, lusts or dogmas thereto.

And there's the winner, right there! (IMHO)

Fantastic creative twist on the 'guidelines' given... lateral thinking of the most excellent order!

Well done, Zariah!

*Psimon bows his head to the creative wonder that is.. Zariah.

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PS.

Ummmmmm....... By my enthusiastic outburst above I didn't mean to stop others from having a go at this ... Far be it from me - the responsibility of 'declaring' the rightful 'winner'. I am not in the least worthy of such a task.

Keep posting people! (please... pretty please... aw, come on now... please....................)

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((I can't help myself... I'm a wannabe-geek. current_email_address=true))

Silence broken by the first

Dust drifted on wind's caress

Second dried her tears

hope bled as from a wound

Third cracked her heart

sagged slowly to the floor

Fourth crushed her bones

such was the weight of it's portent

The fifth swept her remains away

a moment's purity

The sixth poured darkness from below

fear ran before the shadows

The seventh opened the seas

flesh dried in hurricane's grasp

The eighth closed the waves

buried the corpses in cold embrace

Ninth toll chilled the air

doom roamed unfettered

Tenth toll shook the mountains

till ocean swallowed rock

Eleventh tolling rained fire

scorched earth, lifeless

Twelfth brought stars light to an end

heavens tumbled slowly

The churchbell tolled thirteen

time ceased...

I am bad. I am good. I am balance.

I steal. I beg. I 'borrow'...

I cannot draw to any level of competence, though I've been told I'm a dab-hand with a pen

Therefore my image is a 'modified' image of Elric, the last emperor of Melniboné, ruler of the dreaming city and keeper of the ruby throne (as drawn by Michael Whelan).

Full credit to all the wonderfully talented people out there who create original works of such magnificence.

That's me... always late to the party!

Psimon is an old RP character I 'adopted' from my GM at mere lvl 2 (AD&D) way back in 1987 (I'm so old! *sobs*) and over the course of the next 4 years (off and on) I 'played' him up to his retirement as a Demi-god.

Over the intervening years I have continued to nibble away at his character development, including ArchMage, short stories, and a (for the moment) stalled trilogy of full-blown fantasy novels.

You could say that in many respects I *am* Psimon and Psimon is me!

We have known one another for many years and our relationship has only strengthened with time. I love the people he loves, just as he loves the people I love etc.

But to reply to the query directly:

His name derives from one of his considerable strengths, his Psionics (mind powers/abilities)

PS. I blame him for my verbosity!!

Part 4

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The rest of the group slid to a halt in time, then immediately moved into a defensive formation on the path. The remaining warriors and the two rangers created a defensive circle of swords and bows, while the cleric moved to the centre and began his prayers, calling upon their goddess to protect them, creating a divine shield around the group. The shield was strong – the cleric was very powerful – and no missile weapons would be able to penetrate it. But that wasn’t Ar’Kelur’s plan anyway.

He signalled the assault troops to move in. They plunged down the slopes of the forest valley, through the loosely scattered trees, screaming their harsh battle cries, swords raised for battle. The ten Drow warriors crashed into the defending Greys, the shield no defence against non-missile weapons or warriors bodies. Swords flashed in the faint light of stars and the full, bright moon. Two Grey warriors fell dead before the Greys began to get the upper hand, first holding, then pushing back the Drow, killing two of them.

The Drow warriors knew their part well, a few would die - to be given the release of death into Lolth’s blessed presence – the rest were to retreat fighting a rearguard action, enticing the Greys to follow at pace. This they did and the Grey Elves followed, their mission and care forgotten for a moment in their grief for their fallen comrades at the hands of the foul Drow. The Drow leapt past the pits with their deadly, spiked embrace, and ran down the path towards Ar’Kelur’s waiting men. The Greys followed, screaming their outrage with every lung full of air they took as they ran.

Twelve warriors, two rangers and the cleric remained of the Grey Elf party, and they pursued the remaining eight Drow warriors hard. The Drow ran on and on, racing along the path out of sight of Ar’Kelur and his small honour guard of four handpicked warriors watching from the rocks above the forest valley. The Grey elves soon disappeared from view too, and Ar’Kelur and his men began to pick their way down onto the forest path. They would follow from a safe distance, arriving to witness the last of the Greys being slaughtered.

Ar’Kelur set foot on the path and turned to follow the receding sounds of the running battle, only to be spun around as a crossbow bolt thudded into his sword arm. His light armour was no match for the finely crafted bolt, and Ar’Kelur knew he was in trouble as he immediately began to lose consciousness, the forest fading to blackness before his eyes.

In many ways it was fortunate that Ar’Kelur did not see the results of the brief but deadly battle that erupted around him as he fell to the forest floor. His honour guard were slain before any could draw their weapons. His ambush party, one hundred brave and fearsome warriors, were slaughtered by the more than nine hundred Grey elven warriors, rangers, and clerics that had surrounded his men, waiting till they entered the clearing position they had been expecting to claim as their victory ground, only to watch in horror as all around them died in a hail of Grey elven arrows, crossbow bolts, and spells of fire and lightning. The ambush party had themselves been ambushed, and were slaughtered to a man.

Ar’Kelur did not feel the hands of the returning Greys pick him up, tie him roughly to a pole like a hunter’s prey, and carry him back to the Grey elf village as their war trophy.

Here I stand, in tones of black and white, my head hung in shame, yet again so late to such an important occasion as the unveiling of this fine establishment.

My standing is that of humble 'Page'... a scribe of pitiful consistency. (Just never seems to be enough days in the hour!)

*takes a look around

Truly a wonderful place....