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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

Amos Greywind

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About Amos Greywind

  • Birthday 11/08/1985

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Profile Information

  • Interests
    Contemplation, Music, Role Playing and what would the world be like without, Science

Previous Fields

  • Characters
    Din, Amos, Voltaire, Atman, Kull
  1. Amos Greywind

    Life:A game

    I liked it alot Amos
  2. Amos Greywind

    Poseidon's Promise

    Bravo, I liked it alot. Amos
  3. Amos Greywind

    In the Spring

    WOW!!! my qudos to the kid!!! Amos
  4. Amos Greywind

    Inspires by a bit too much StarCraft

    It was great, I just finnished a StarCraft craze Amos
  5. Amos Greywind

    It's only just a game

    Good poem, it flowed nicely
  6. Amos Greywind


    I quite enjoyed it, it flows nicely Amos
  7. Amos Greywind


    Choices What makes us who we are? Is it the things we’ve done in times past? Things we will do in the time of future? No, I believe it is the choices we cast. The choice to say yes or no, Or to say nothing at all, The choice to bite ones tongue, And with it take any fall. Choices make us who we are, And who we will become, They guide our path everyday, Until the end does come. Amos Greywind
  8. Amos Greywind

    I once was lost...

    I enjoyed it alot. Amos
  9. Amos Greywind

    Living Rain

    Wow, I loved the flow of this poem. the mood comes across very well. Thank you for another good poem Amos Greywind
  10. Amos Greywind

    Twin Souls

    I thought it flowed nicly and it was just all around well written. Yet another good one. Amos
  11. Amos Greywind

    In My Pocket

    wow... yet another fantastic work, I enjoy the imagery. Amos
  12. Amos Greywind

    Glass Walls

    wow, that was certainly a great poem!! Encore, encore!
  13. Amos Greywind

    After in the light

    I quite enjoyed this work. Bravo
  14. Amos Greywind

    Time Moves On

    Another great work!!!
  15. Amos Greywind


    Aversion By Amos Greywind Scorn burns within ones soul, As their eyes darken with vice, They become savage and cruel, They become monster from mice. Their fists ball, soaked with rancor, The gates to hell swing wide and darken the skies, And the blood within their veins doth boil, As they distort, twist, and bend through its lies. From peace they become war, From absolute they become tainted, From generous they become ravenous, So that all that once was pure has fainted. The fiend within the mind, Taints the body and sense, It drives us to derangement, It drives us over the fence. It is detestation, It is malevolence, It is enmity, It is abhorrence. It is… Hatred.