Alaeha

Let's see... I told you about it, and she told me. Falcon told her. So ultimately, Falcon is to blame for having everyone turned into snakes at the Fall Ball. Congratulations! *Colossal Hugs* (And Hugs are not in any way related to tax breaks )

I like this. I'm not sure if I'm being overly nitpicky here, but wouldn't it be two million hands clapping? Or was only half the audience impressed? *Hugs* I absolutely loved the last stanza.

This poem is... a bit odd, I think. It reads like a monologue. The flow works out better than I expected, honestly, when I looked at the jagged line lengths. I like it, really. I recommend her, as well. She's a good friend of mine, and as Falcon said, will benefit The Pen as well as benefiting from it.

Nicely done. The rhythm is a bit off in a few lines, but it's quite good. (And I like the idea behind it, especially) I hate to suggest it, but perhaps pain instead of sorrow? It seems to fit the flow better, for me. If you change the comma to a semicolon, you can omit the word "and" which was a stumbling block to me. Those are the only ones I can think of quick fixes for... there was the "also" in the fourth line, but I've no practical ideas for that. (Sorry... I'm better at finding details that don't fit my idea of perfection than I am at fixing them. ) *Hugs* Very well done.

Hmm... this reminds me of my mom. She's convinced that she can't do anything right. I like this... but it seems as if you had to rearrange your sentences a lot to make the rhyme work out. I may be a little odd... but when I write my poems, I write my line with my rhyme word in mind. It's like "Ok... I need something that rhymes with bare, so... dare, bare, lair, rare, tear, tare, fare... lair. I need to work in something about a lair." Maybe try that, if it makes any sense? *Hugs* I know how this feels. (Many apologies if I'm unintelligible today)

I resolve to continue growing my hair out, no matter how annoying it may become. I resolve to, before the end of the school year, purge myself of all those I would be best off without. I resolve to continue writing bad poetry.

The third line of this poem popped into my head while I was trying to take a nap. *Growls* I resent having my sleep disrupted. Ahh well... It was worth writing. I just wonder if I'll ever show it to the people it addresses. Walk Away The sun that shone from heav'n has turned to gray, and all its beauty fled beyond my view. The time has come for me to walk away. I've lost my faith in you. Though you may say that all is well, the sky retains its blue... The sun that shone from heav'n has turned to gray. The rope that held us close began to fray so long ago... You know that I speak true. The time has come for me to walk away. The price has grown, I fear, too steep to pay, and though I've fought to keep a brighter hue, the sun that shone from heav'n has turned to gray. I know that you won't miss me, in a day; my place was filled before I even knew. The time has come for me to walk away. You've never known the marble from the clay, and now your time is up, the rope worn through. The sun that shone from heav'n has turned to gray. The time has come for me to walk away.

Brutality? Nah... Not right now. I liked this, but if you'd like, and wouldn't be offended, I can take a scalpel to it later. But for now I'm in a hurry, so I'll just suggest one thing: Go through this as if it were prose, eliminating all the extra line breaks and such. Reformat it, without changing the text, to be a monologue. Then get rid of all the extra commas and such. That was the most annoying thing about it, to me. Welcome to the Pen... You'll be fine here. *Hugs*

Appy - There are more interesting forms to write in than standard High School English forms. The Petrarchan/Italian Sonnet can be interesting, and a stanza of Ottava Rima is nothing short of fun in my opinion. The Villanelle and Terzanelle are nightmarishly challenging and require a lot of forethought... the Sestina is just twisted. And who's to say you can't experiment with your rhyme? I do it a lot - as when I'm writing an acrostic and need a stanza of seven lines. As to the original question... I almost can't write anything that doesn't rhyme, unless it's absolutely required by the form I'm writing in... probably because I've read and heard so much "poetry" that would be better termed "prose with funky line breaks and no punctuation" and I don't want to write any more of that. Personally, I don't really care for "free form" poetry - that which has no rhyme, no structure of any sort. I don't see, myself, why there has to be a competition between style and content. The content is what you're saying. The style is how you get people's interest, and make it more pleasant for them to read. The best poetry has both... but given the choice, I'd choose one with good style that says nothing over one that says a lot poorly... But maybe that's just me. Just my ramblings.

There aren't any towers. This isn't a fortress." Salinye replied. "The only way onto the roof would be magic, I think." Jirah choked back a laugh. He certainly hadn't needed any magic to find the roof... now there was an idea. He practically flew to the window. "Well... if I can get onto the roof from here," He offered, "I have some rope that you might be able to climb." "It's an idea, but will the rope be long enough?" Gyrfalcon asked. "I'm not quite sure. It'll be close, either way. I'd rather try it than sit here clueless though. If nothing else, if we do make it onto the roof, we can be weaker safely out of reach of the common undead." Turning to Salinye, Jirah asked, "Is it a go then?" Receiving a nod, he opened the window and looked out more carefully. When his eyes fell on the garden's fountain, he almost laughed out loud. With only a passing remark of, "I'll be back." he leaped from the window toward a tree. Catching the second branch from the bottom, he forced himself to relax. He only cursed a little when he felt the familiar sensation of having his arms near-to ripped off. It was quick work to find one of the garden's vine walls to climb up. "No way to get to the roof without magic..." He smirked as he climbed. "Give it a rest. She's tired, and she doesn't know you." Came a voice from his pouch. Nilani. "I know. It was just amusing." He whispered. Only he could hear Nilani's speech, but his voice wasn't so effectively silenced. When he reached the top of the garden wall, it was mere child's play to balance atop the wall long enough to reach the roof proper. The difficulties, he knew, lay ahead. Would this girl... Salinye... be able to climb a rope after whatever that old man had done to her? The others? "We'll worry about that later..." He muttered. "There was a fireplace... that means a chimney. There it is!" He glanced down to make sure he had the right room, and withdrew a long loop of pale, slender rope from his sleeve. A pair of simple knots later, he dropped the rope over the edge and slid down to the window. "I think I'll assume it was long enough." He announced as he slipped through the opening. "Any brave souls willing to lead the way?"

Easily the best lines in the piece, in my opinion... certainly a good climax. The rhythm is perfect. But the flow through the rest of it seems a little odd to me. A bit hurried, I think; it's probably because of the irregular meter. ("Hope and fear" is a trochee and a half. No worries, I break off my feet sometimes as well, just thought it worth mentioning) Sorry to be a bit late in responding to this... I've been only half here for a while.

Ahh... but does the quivering blob of pink goo shake like a... err... a lump of jelly?

*Pounce* *Hugs* Welcome back, for the time being.

*Hugs* Very well done... only complaint I can drudge up is the inconsistent tense... (She looks at the wall, she went home, one can only hope, etc) If this is a true story (which I gather it is) you have my condolences... I know how you feel entirely too well. I just wish my boyfriends had been half so eloquent as this one... The best mine could ever give me went along the lines of "I can't do this" "I'm sorry" or "But I think we can still be really good friends" I guess that no matter how nicely you wrap it, though... a spade is still a spade. And no matter how nicely you rip someones heart out, it hurts just as much when you do your little tapdance on it. (And of course if it wasn't a life story... you can disregard all of that) *Hugs*

Can't choose just one... or even just three. Black, because it represents concealment and seclusion. When speaking of emotions, it means that they are hidden, and numbed off. (Or completely vacant... it's really the absence of (or apparent absence of) emotion.) White represents purity, power, and life, in my mind. The brightest, most powerful stars shine with white light. I can't really say how white translates emotionally... I haven't had anything that seems white in so long... Purple represents a certain sort of... well... serenity, I suppose. Elegance and Eloquence, as well. Ironic that the portion of the visible color spectrum with the greatest energy is also one of the "calmest" in our perception. Purple is serenity, and tranquility. It's my creative color. Blue is the color associated with both Air and Water... where Purple represents serenity and contentment, to me, Blue is more a cold calmness... especially the paler shades. Of course... I do tend to be a little unorthodox in my views. I'm used to it. Next to nobody that I know personally will agree with me on anything more specific than "black is darker than pastel pink."

Well... I suppose there are worse places than the bathroom. At least if you're scared peeless there, it's the right place. ... though I'd rather be locked in the kitchen during a prolonged power outage myself... I'd take it as my duty to salvage the ice cream and save it from going to waste. But seriously... you people stay safe. I swear if you go and die on me, I'll hunt you down and kill you.

Nah... Aardvark would be Mickey's stunt double. He's the guy who swapped costumes with Mickey during a break and took an axe to the Broom. He moonlights as a Professional Assassin. I think Gwaihir, or at least the character of Gwaihir, counts as Goofy. Hmm... I don't know him terribly well, but I tentatively nominate Cyril as that old professor. Ludwig von Duck or whatever his name was. I haven't watched Disney in ages. I liken Solivagus to Anastasia's Rasputin, because he just won't go away. Wyvern, of course, is Scrooge. Or else Pinocchio (or however the heck you spell it) "I want to be a real dragon!"

Essays... *twitch* *twitch* *twitch* (Insert Convulsions Here) Huh? Wha? *Stutters* Sorry. I've been up all night with my last essay for English 101... Defending V.I. Lenin is harder than I thought it would be; especially since my heart is in it only in that my grades depend on it and it's a fun challenge. Truth of it is that the guy was a genius. An obsessive, arrogant genius... but most of those who shape history are. Anyways... Writing... The trick is to be looking for the areas where the water is going to break loose, so that you'll be there. Sitting around in the middle of nowhere won't make the waters come to you. (That's been my experience, anyway)

Found a conversation on Poerty (as opposed to Poetry) in the Megatokyo Creative Writing Forums. Among other things it had the lists of the top ten Poertic Titles and the most Irritating rhymes. I figured I'd take a shot at writing a Poerm. Might as well write a cliche for fun. Incidentally... Every rhyme I used here is on the list of the Top Ten Annoying Rhymes, and my title combined two of the definitive Poertic Titles. I think I'm a fine Poert. Sorrow and Suffering I can't forgive you for these lies, the pain is tearing me apart. Each time I look into your eyes, a twisting knife blade tears my heart. The tears I've shed, they fell like rain, but even tears can't fill the hole you tore in me. I hate this pain, it bites me deeply, to the soul. Your image haunts my dreams at night, a demon I can't help but hate. It fades, while it still brings me fright. This ritual is my nightly fate. Yet even in these horrid dreams, the worst of all: It sparks a fire that grows until at last it seems my heart will burst with mad desire. But still you dwell outside my cage. I can't reach you through all this strife. Despite my desperate, starving rage, I'll never reach you in this life.

*confused look* Haiku isn't free verse... it has a very set, rigid structure. There's nothing free about it. I'm not the ultimate authority on it... but my understanding of free verse is that it's the poetic equivalent of a combination of impressionism and fauvism; it isn't bound to any set, predefined structure except by the author's desire. (Not to say that it can't have structure... just to say that if it has a set, moderately well known structure such as that of the Haiku, the Sonnet, or the Villanelle, it isn't free verse) But that's just my understanding. Apologies for spamming the thread...

I think Ayshela pretty much answered it... Generally, when mine come up, it's because I'm so bloody sick of just bouncing off of theirs... and I'm not going to bother trying anymore. But regardless, I stand by that line. So to you.

Once again... I experimented. The Rhyme scheme of the four stanzas below goes like this: ABAB CACA DCDC BDBD I wanted to work on interstanza rhyme, but my inner Obsessive-Compulsive wouldn't let me do it haphazardly... so I had to have a set, rigid form for it. Is it any good? Barriers Walls stand behind me... In front... To the sides. I'm alone, and I can't see the sun, or the sky. All my world is dark... It was easy to hide, but I’m trapped, and I can't tell the truth from the lie. Locked out by the world, I turned to my mind, but my dreams turned to nightmares, and now, though I’ve tried, I can’t reach the exit. I can’t even find any sign of my state... Tell me, please: Have I died? Don’t know what I did... Why I’m ever apart, not a part... Why I’m cursed to be kept so confined. I knew that I’d fail you. Lost from the start, I knew that these passages never unwind. Trapped within all these walls, always wondering why it receives such abuse, I’ve a tattered, torn heart. Though it takes every blow with naught more than a sigh, it knows, as do I, it’s a failed work of art.

Alaeha crept stealthily into the Cabaret Room, carrying a large box. As she opened the lid, she looked inside with suspicion. "Almost-Dragonic Party-in-a-Box? Doesn't seem like a party to me..." Frustrated, she rummaged through the box for the smaller package she had stuffed inside. "Ha! Half-Elven Party-in-a-Bundle! I knew I made these for a reason!" Darting about the room, she blurred in an almost cartoon-esque manner as she hung streamers, balloons, and a giant banner proclaiming "Happy Birthday Zariah!" Finally, she wheeled in the giant cake, and set it on the center table before lighting the nineteen candles. Taking her box off to the corner, she sat in the shadows of the corner, waiting for her target to arrive. There would be a severe huggling any moment now... OOC: Happy Birthday Zariah! *Hugs* and *Hugs* again!

Bleh... I suppose I lied. Can't bring myself to shut the door on people yet... But... not to put pressure on people, but I need more people to take a shot at this. I hate to nag, really I do... but I'd love anything at this point. *Hugs*

*Hugs* I like it... the rhythm is rough in a few spots, or so it seems to me... The most notable one to me was this line: "We just chose poorly and threw it all away." I wound up mentally replacing the "and" with a comma, at which point it fit perfectly. I love that part of the poem especially... *Hugs*