Matteo

As far as I'm concerned, emotion and intent are the most important aspects of poetry; you've captured both very well. Nice job on your primus poematis!

"So many people so eager to condemn themselves in defence..." Gavin shakes his head in mock sorrow. "If it's credulity in blame you all seek, then take no visible stance! Wait for the authorities to make their judgement! It seams to me that all here take some great offence to being suspect; let me remind you that we are all suspect, regardless of mention. No matter of bantering will change the outcome of the investigation when we are not the investigators. And that in its self warrants further remembrance; we are not detectives!" He enunciated this last statement rigidly and with great emphasis, then pausing for a moment he scans those gathered taking in each face with condemning eyes. "Take no solace in logic, for it was not that that killed our host; but take to it still, for it is the sole foundation to any rational argument and the base on which justice will be resolved. No amount of petty bickering about one's country and its idiosyncrasies will bring any useful persecutory evidence to light. We should not revel in emotion that will only cause more grief." Gavin looks down for a moment, allowing time for his words to chasten the more rigid patrons. "Don't get me wrong, you are all entitled to your judgements and emotions, no death should pass without feeling... "Gavin falters for a moment, "If not out of respect for the family and its loss, then out of respect for those in this gathering that do not betray your twisted sense of righteousness; cease your squabbling!" His face twisted in a contortion of anger and disgrace, he looks to the crowd again, taking time to look each one in the eye before walking off to the hedge maze, focussed on the thoughts that threaten to block out rationality, and with the firm purpose of becoming lost within the maze?s constricting confines. 'How could you let yourself get involved? and emotionally at that! Those bleating sheep have tricked you into action and betrayed your dignity.' Disappointed with his outburst and his obviously failing sense of mind, Gavin lunges himself into the maze.

Thank you, I find myself writting in this sort of style alot... though I lack the inspiration to finish most of my works. I do manage to squeeze a few out now and again though.

There are times I don't give enough credit to short poems, likely because I have a hard time writting them, but this is definately one of those times when credit is due. The repetition of the glass metaphor at the end is a wonderful closer. I like the whole-ness of it, it feels complete.

Wonderfully morbid, and well written. The verse-chorus idea is a cool way of emphasising certain parts of the poem.

"I'd never have wagered that a metaphysical thing could take such a weighty build." Gavin's lips curved ever slightly to form a wry grin. The ill attempt at whit was more to satisfy his odd sense of humour than to inspire laughter; it seamed that he took pleasure in making jokes that only he understood, and found revelry in the fact that indeed none responded. To him, this rather strange idiosyncrasy proved that he was indeed more intelligent than those about him. "This tension could choke a smaller creature." He continued, grinning more openly now. "Excuse me, it must seam as if I have little regard for the situation. I shall try to address all that has been said, but you'll have to afford me time to think." He straightens himself up, and relaxes his features to resemble the obvious concern pained so openly on most other guest's features. "I too share your sentiment Marcus; the chemist worries me. While I'd like not to point a finger without base; it is in he that I find the most rationale for my trepidation." His face wrinkled in a visage of contemplation. "I'd have to observe the behaviour of the other houseguests more thoroughly before I pass any true judgement, but there are few here that I would surmise has the mental and emotional capability to murder." He pauses for a moment then glances back to Katherine, "Then again, I must be wrong; otherwise our host would still be among the living." Gavin brings his hand to his face extending his index finger to rub the itch from his eye. "There are just too many controvertible facts to take into consideration." OOC: Vincent Cuthbert

With polite interest in the sauntering guests, Gavin makes for the manor its self, nodding and providing the appropriate courtesies to those he passes. Though hastened, his step is moderately at ease. His eyes scan the massive abode to which he is en route, pausing briefly on the doors as his gaze lands on the billows of Miss Elisabeth?s dress passing aft the portal. 'I had hoped she'd attend.' The fleeting thought had barely registered in his conscience when his left foot caught the rough edge of a cobblestone, further driving it from his mind. His current gate demanded his continued travel, and his foot was dragged behind by the stone; his right flew out madly in a vane attempt to regain balance, his arms shot out in a wild attempt to grasp at something that was not there as he was driven nearly headlong to the ground at Wetherby's feet. "Oof! By all that is sweet and..." Gavin struggles to his feet as quickly as possible, saving no time for dignity. Only once standing erect once more does he survey the scene, hoping that no one noticed this rather humorous display of public humiliation. "Well done sir, I'll give you a 9.0 for execution, but the landing was less than impressive. Then again... that could have been your intended action..." "Very clever Mr. Wetherby."Gavin straightens his coat and ruffles his cravat, lending only a passing glance to the smug butler before continuing through to the courtyard. His trousers, obviously dirtied in the post snagging events were marshalled clean of their contaminants with a brisk hand before exiting the relative darkness of the manor to the inner courtyard. "Was du hal, my friends?" Smiling dashingly Gavin opens his arms in mock embrace of the gathered patrons. Obviously pleased with his entering comment and confident in its relayed intellect, he moves to the Lady Katherine. Taking up her hand in a flourished bow, Gavin kisses her hand and returns in to her side. "Ah, the lovely Miss Elisabeth, even more beautiful than I remember; radiant as always I see..."

Most criticism fro poetry is purely in convention, alot of the 'getting better' comes from personal progress. There is one thing I'll contribute to convention though; keep a close eye on your metre. You've got the beats right, but they're a bit rushed in some cases. Overall a well written poem though, I enjoyed it thoroughly

Wonderful! The style is interesting, the rhyme scheme is simple enough, but the mold of subject and mood was admirable. A pleasure to read.

A rather lithe gentleman steps from the stagecoach tugging at the base of his coat in a distracted attempt to straighten the stresses and creases of seated travel. As he reaches the cobblestone walk, he pauses for a moment, aware that his every move from this step onward, and indeed his last on exiting the carriage, would be scrutinized by both the socially and financially wealthy patrons of this estate. It is with this in mind that his next few conscious steps are made. "Ah, the wonders of the countryside." His interest is superficial at best and is voiced merely upon catching a passing wind from the stables. Minding the tails of his coat, he stoops to buff the toe of his right shoe with a handkerchief before proceeding to help the remaining ladies from the now relatively empty carriage. "Mind your step M'Lady, the cobbles are not made for ease of travel with such heals as those." His eyes sweep the length of the lady finishing with her footwear; attempting a dashing smile, his gaze returns to her face. 'I must travail to keep from the stables.' He reminds himself, 'I only hope that half-whit brother of mine keeps to himself.'

I guess I'll be a young man named Gavin; well educated, straight out of higher schooling and overconfident. Inteligent enough, but a little bumbly, overall a competant lad. No trade as of yet, though majored in Philosophy, with a minor in English. Sure he could be an older brother to James, hence making his last name Doyle. I think that should do, let me know if you need more.

Happy Birthday bud! Hope it's worth the year's wait

Ah! Belated already?! My best wishes for all the multitudinous years to come.

Sounds awesome... though I may hang back a little, maybe be the last to post on the appropriate times... I'm still not quite sure how this plays out. I'm in though, I'm sure I can figure it out All for the Sherlock Holmes idea, love it!

That tooka while to catch up on... Good stuff though. I'll also be looking to Deg to get the back issues. The whole thing sounds awesome Wyv, the ideas and themes are really cool I just wish I could have been there this far. I'll deffinately tune in when I'm not working

Indeed! My most sincere Birthday wishes Zadown!

This poem was actually written as a gift to a friend, on a picture I drew. The picture was of a demon embracing an angel, but both finding succor in the embrace. The following poem was written to represent the picture... mostly in sentiment I guess. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Mea Veritas To who might take this plight yet named, Still in whose eyes is justice framed? 'Tis tongue of man, whose banes we wield, As if in heaven, voice refrained. So grievous and yet simply done, In ignorance, nay, in life doth run, Alacrity and flavour wrought Of human nature's sordid pun. In its words and in His grace, No such thing should ever face, The blood of man from He did cite, The pict and marrow of this race. Yet still I err in what I do, Though through His gild and boon I drew, The essence of the reign He holds, To deific love my crime is due. And due indeed, by way and lee, Dum spiro, spero am' vici; That void to which I disavow, My sombre ruin, now am free. The sun once shone upon my skin, As if the shadow's frigid din Drew the warmth from 'twixt its weaves, To leave a tender chill within. Thus with my love I shall avow, That sordid sun seams warmer now; Yet still a darkness grins its creed, And bears my wrong with curved brow. I judge I know, though loath the sound, The truth to which my fate is bound, If truly just and justly pure, I 'cede to thee, on tempered ground. If banished be, I shan't place blame, To any berth, I'll bear no shame, To travel hence with paramour, Where love is more than just a name. The simplest passion born of Him, Benign intention, wreathed within, Tethered sinew, hearts entwined, Since when did love become a sin? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The title is Latin, it means "My Truth"

Congratulations! It's been a while, but I remeber the first time I got promoted, it's a great feeling. I'm certain all of the promotions were well deserved

Heh, what a start... I thought I was posting in the Cabarret Room but it turned out I was posting in the Banquet Room... If someone with administrator power could move that for me... heh... *Matteo smiles sheepishly* On a kindof sidenote though, I'm done school for at least a year and I would really like to get back in to The Pen. I know I've said that before, I just hope I can keep up with it this time. ~ Matteo

"Oi mates! Whot's 'is about guilds?" Lithe but sturdy Matteo enters the Banquet room speaking in an obvious and horribly executed accent, the lilting vowel sounds vaguely resembling some form of Irish-Australian hybrid. "Sorry, I never was much for the intricacies of impersonation." He pauses for a moment scanning the room for reactions, smiling feebly in a hope to instill, if nothing else, pity in his obviously unimpressed audience. "Nonetheless, the question is sound, I heard something about guilds. Now I may be ignorant impatient or blind, but I'm slightly lost as to the application of said factions." Once again, he looks about the room uncomfortably aware of the number of eyes disecting every nervous motion, exagerated as they are by his evident unease. Though confident in voice, his usually passive tendencies push through to the surface as he visibly shrinks under the scrutiny of so many able men and women. "Maybe I'll just take a seat... "

The literary voyage never ends with a completed work, but is furthered by the suplementary need for knowledge; you can learn so much about yourself and the world around you by expressing yourself, emotionaly or just through your ideas. It is that developement that drives me to proceed; the gentle croon of possibility, an artistic masterpiece on the horrizon... sometimes almost too far away to see, but always within reach. Also, that sense of completion when you do finally finish a work; that is another boon worth striving for. And reaction. The most pety of my literary needs, how others will respond. It allows me to furhter myself as a writter. The harsh criticism can hurt sometimes, but is the best in allowing growth. These and more are the reasons I write, and also the reasons I'm here. The atmosphere is magnificent, and the people are perhaps the greatest teachers I've encountered. The air of tallent in this establishment is undeniable and prevailent, yet another reason for my wish to be here. These is more... I'm sure there is, but that will have to come in a later installment. Regards,

Magnigfique (sp?) Simple, but true, it's a breath of fresh air to hear those words, so many oare ignorant to their wisdom... but that's just my opinion

Bravo; an extacy of tremulous souls... I like it. Death is so vivid, but not repetetive or cliche. It seams slmost as new to him/her as to its victim, a wonder to quake your heart, but only once to behold.

Though normaly dextrous in his dealings with movement, the elf stumbles into the Cabaret Room rather wrecklessly. "My, am I ever late... 'tis a pleasure to make your aquaintance." As per usual, Matteo puts one arm about his midsection and bends at the waist, a bow to the guest he is in audience to. "My appologies for my tardiness, I've been in council with my muse as of late... it seams she's being a bit fickle as usual. Please allow me to remedy my rudeness... sit, if you will." Matteo pulls out a chair for the startled stranger, "I'll buy you a drink; whatever you wish." Hoping that his attempt to regain his composure was successful, Matteo takes a seat of his own. Waiting hopefully for one of the empty seats across to be utilised. "I do not wish to take you from your current engagements; all who it suits, please, have a seat. I can't garuntee the same courtesy of beverage for you all, but I'll do what I can." Tapping his geld pouch nervously, Matteo's smile is replaced by a grmace, which quickly fades.

I'd like your opinions on the end, moreover I'd like to know if it is effective. Is the recap necessary? I'm trying a new style, I hope it worked out alright.