Parmenion

/me applauds. /me wanders off the read The Illiad again

I love that last stanza - words of wisdom

Nice theme, good show To Alaeha: Immortality has so much more to offer. If you think about it from a scaled perspective. People mean much more because of our limited lifespan, take away the limitations and you open a whole new landscape up to explore. One would develop a very good relationship with oneself more so than even the go-it-aloners do today. Then again, this one got me thinking too, and reminded me of my god-complex

/me gives Wrenwind a mug of Hot Chocolate - all better now

This was so much fun to read Sorciere! Loved it!

They vied against the sands of time, That futile march they made in prime, While old or foolish watched aloft, With frowning brows as they scoffed, They shouted down to braver souls, In battle lines of peppered holes, "The fight is lost 'fore its begun, Throw down your arms, turn and run!" The old or foolish predicted well, The ancient enemy's ranks did swell, And bore down upon greater men, And slew them all, root and stem, The gift of caution lost its way, As valour died a death that day.

Two sparrows swoop and land on the pavement, Merriment ensues as they nip each other’s tails, A ruffle of feathers, a quick note and they vanish. On the simplest form of happiness he ponders. Why does it escape him? A frost-laced spider’s web clings to the windowsill, Daunted by its mirroring image of life’s myriad choices, Reflect he does on what he’s done. A child, a bully, a jealous crowd, a never ending throng of whisperers, A youth, a girl, a shattered dream, an unhappy candle nearly snuffed out. To cry, to be all alone forever, He cries, Who cares? Nobody! Who knows? Nobody! He hopes they are all so uncaring when he is dead. Down, down he swirls engulfed by depression’s whirlpool, He wants to fade away, to slip away, “Come soon, come quick, I’m tired of waiting”, He wants to be alone; it’s all he has ever known. His mask laughs loudly but his face is fading. A pebble skitters playfully across the pavement, Into the tranquil scene crashes a quick paced lady, Pain stalks behind her, her sycophanatical worshipper. Her unwanted friend is always there but usually it calls for her, Childhood fairytales dissipate as reality sets in, What road did she choose to get here? She counts the droplets of rain she could have had and reflects. A child, a rascal, larger than life, not a care in the world, A youth, a rebel, a line of suitors, She plays the game of life with the dice provided. Forked agonies strike her, life no longer matters, The precipice's bridge is down and she has no will to build another, A churchbell peals its peaceful knoll, but quiet her heart it doesn’t. It makes her think of funeral pyres without a soul to hold her hand, An uneasy peace returns, More in touch, more remote, Monotony sets in, “What’s wrong with me?” Time moves on and so does life, She spins into a cold comforting darkness. A thousand faces but two stand different, They meet and dance as waves, Have they always danced together? A unity, a bond, a trust, A death of masks, a birth of love, One harmony, One existence, One! Two halves of one soul, The Weird Sisters have smiled, Time moves on but love stands still.

Balled fists shoved deep into his pockets. I love that line in particular, I think it really emphasises the despair, so human the young man in the poem feels throughout. nice work Wren. Parmenion

Reminds me of a song by Sarah McLachan and I like her stuff so liked this too. Appreciation through association.

Many reasons why you shouldn't describe what you write as short and lame, but for me I think its because it lacks positivity which I think is always important. I'm a newbie at writing so cant offer advice but think it might look good as a limerick by mixing the last two lines. But as it is stands it meant "for me" a crossroads of thinking coupled with the need to find likened souls. But thats just for me, you may have meant something different - but thats whats nice coz multiple interpretations are present in most all sentences. I'd like to see another if you have one. I liked this one, nostalgia set in from my teenage school of thought.

Wrote this a while ago - I know its a bit long but try bearing with it, would like to hear your comments - good, bad or indifferent Bound by chains hammered so perfectly, The blacksmith’s hand and his own are the same, Adorning hopes with jewels made of dreams, Memories lack lustre – appreciation is lost, A solitary figure moves alone in the tower, Moons and suns circle a deserted world, Barren of people but thriving without, Within is a search, The Muses keep whispering, Forward the future that past has denied, Still, future must happen when there is life. Rolling thunder, forked lightning, sheets of ice-rain, Threaten to shred the soul and forge it from pain, Solace is pursued but the Eye cannot be found, Emotion the tempest inflicted on self, The root is a magpie not yet in flight, The sill of a Gothic arch is leaned upon heavily, Stained glass windows negate silence as opened. Fresh breezes enter like children exploring, Drapes are flapped and paper is rustled, Old furniture creaks, disapproval is evident, A dove flies into the room as the portal is closed. Withering blooms beneath the shadow of a wall, Charm abandoned with the departure of Sol, Weeds, the nightmares to strangle a flower, Insects do not visit, No chance of replanting. Dove alights on the table and drops a leaf from its beak, A hop, a flutter to the unfinished meal, Footsteps echo as the figure approaches, The leaf is picked up and a closer look taken, Melody of heart plays upon his throbbing mind, As he turns and leaves to walk isolated halls. Too frightened to test the strength of dream’s bubble, Too curious to let it drift away, Pondering a moment of a realm now forgotten, Expected existence is distant, Smothered by a Hollow. Dawn hails a chirp and an end to sleep’s bliss, The Defiler is roared at, the chamber is fled, His hand hurls a curio that shatters on the wall, A name is whispered softly between angry sobs, Acidic tears burn through the chains, Still, future must happen when eyes are dried. Ice expands in the cracks and weakens foundations, The best laid bricks of the walls crumble with time, This Ivory Tower was not built to last, He ventures outside, Sounds of collapsing, Seething atmosphere of World envelopes his being, The Lost Dryad waits at the edge of the glade, Dove takes wing to an opposite branch, She hurls a conker at the perplexed figure, Then leaves with the Nymphs but glances back once, Dove flees from the woods while he trudges in pursuit.

I truly loved the realism of this. It is a shame to see how barbaric a race we were and can still be. It does stop and start in a couple places but that doesn't matter for me when descriptive quality was sooo good. Its nice to explore the darker side and I think you more than did justice to what you set out to do! Bravo!

Touché to Salinye and her poem - very nice, more, more

I once searched for greatness, Under the shadow of a tree, Looking hard, I was careless, For the knowledge was within me. Thought I, when I was down, My best poetry I did write, Wear a nose and be a clown, For I could not see the light. I used to write of death and life, On failed romance I’d dwell. Every day came filled with strife, As I created my own little hell. The perfect woman I did make, Up here, inside my skull, Sense forced me up to wake, Stop being silly, stop being dull. Such a queen cannot exist, Get up, go out, have fun, Try so many you’ll need a list! And settle down when done. So up I got and out I went, I missed the comfort of my bed, For I was tired and all but spent, The noise it pounded in my head. Then I spied across the room, Fingering her glass, A young lady at the height of bloom, She seemed a darling lass. We drank, we spoke and laughed a bit, The seven dwarves we named, An adult but sometimes a kid, A passion no man could tame. All too quickly it did end, She could have been my match! ‘Cos of her job, she couldn’t bend, Oh! But what a catch. Now everyday is ne’er a bother, For I know my dreams are real, I’ve found one, I’ll find another, My heart to whom I’ll seal. The greatness spoke of at the start, Is not being rich or fame, It is simply to give all your heart, And be rejected without shame.

Avoid reading too much into things especially net quizzes If you never had those feelings for Michael before then maybe its good not to place too much emphasis on the quiz thingy.

Appreciate your comments - thats one reason I'm here to get better and refine anything I write. I'll think of a way to redo first stanza and other missing syllables. Englich is not my first language so some things that may sound okay in Gaelic don't always in English despite similarities. Thanks again and will continue trying to improve

Duped to think that love was true, This fairytale not meant for you, The circles spinning in your mind, You need a place to go and hide, Wandering now in endless halls, To find yourself and forget it all. You face the world as happy - yet, Your lonely heart will not forget, When all alone the tears you shed, His presence will not leave your head, Plans you thought were sure to last, Dead and gone now with the past. Time itself is so very wrong, You wonder why it takes so long, To cut out that part, Or mend your heart, You know well how long it takes, And still it does not stop the aches. Raise your chin up slowly now, Dismiss those wrinkles in your brow, The strength you seek inside is there, Do not rush, take time, beware, And don't regret, embrace, enhance! Fate's the victor not the chance.

I think she means the Matthew and herself are twin souls The entire poem is about the relationship they both have and if that friendship will blossom into something more and if it does, then the dangers herself and Matthew might face. Course I could be wrong. Either way - another poem I thoroughly enjoyed!! I love the way its written.

Moved and paced exceptionally well. Begins with an objective observation of life and ends bringing it all back down to the individual. Excellent - I enjoyed this one immensely!

Took cahoneys to tackle that one. Very brave.

Excellent contrast in how it starts and how it concludes. The poem itself just flows from one extreme to the other. Bravo - well worked words.

This is excellent. Its the kind of poem you have to read carefully to catch all the nuances...very well worked. Very well thought through and very well paced.

This really needs a better title. I just don't name what I write usually 1 Monotony of the day sets in, With hope at dawn it did begin, But ends fatigued asleep in bed, Nothing accomplished, nothing gained. So what’s the purpose of it all? To fall in love? To love and fall? To excite the dullness by drinking beer? To watch TV and numb your rear? We the drones make it all tick, Led to believe that we have our pick, Of things we’d like to be while young, False pretences, futures unsung. By design or luck a few do rise, Out of the medium before their demise, Some remembered for ages after they die, Did fame or money bring them any joy? The picture of aims is painted as this, In youth we think more money is bliss, Another few pence, a quid, or a score, Status is measured like this by the poor. Simple treasures going to waste, By all but a few of our pitiful race, In times when Art is becoming contrived, And aesthetically pleasing to the popular mind. 2 Reborn, renewed – a new age doth dawn, The thinkers and players all face rising sun, All challenged now to try once again, Rebuilding a world from a deserted plain. All that was lost or forgotten through times, Struggling now not to re-peat old crimes, Human nature is such that not all will change, From the lowliest fool to the wisest of sage. But what of the reality that faces them now? Is this thing shaped on an individual brow? Or can it be that there is a common to all? Underlying form? Perception the squall? Starting as animals without any “norms”, Surviving within the Darwinian storm, The lessons forgotten will soon be relearned, Over lifetimes uncounted must victory be earned. Imagination of one called change to the fore, Popular culture want-ed something more, Envy and greed made all the rules, Commonplace man – unwitting mules. So what is needed to all flock together? Can they work as a team like birds of a feather? Would divisions exist if all was reset? Could things change if they were beset? 3 So why then deny these dreams we’ve forgotten? Can’t we remember why they were begotten? To face fate now with one final show, Facing onto the high as opposed to the low. The aim to discover life’s essence once more, Emerging from the crowd with a hollering roar, Allowing the masses below to subside, No doubt they’ll struggle to turn back the tide. Realise they must that only through grit, Though it seems hard for them to admit, That quality of being is a subjective gift, Our view of our world and how we uplift. So one man unhappy at night in his bed, A society believing the world is near dead, A threshold of power for both to decide, To make a decision or continue to hide.

I like this. I like format and the honesty. Bravo.