Sorciere

I wanted the award, really I did......

I awoke when I died. For the first time, I felt the love I smelled the crisp frosting air I really saw the way a flower opens up to the sunlight. But I could not touch anything. I felt a hundred emotions course through my veins A thousand reasons to be alive A million different scents filled my nostrils And fifty seven people cried for my loss The weight of regret hung me low The road I had travelled closed off The realisation of awaking to nothing but memories The taste of the bullet in my mouth Too late....

I truly know how you feel also and I, as you, am wishing for time to speed a little until I can be closer to the one I love. As for the actual poem, I think you said an awful lot in those few lines. Sometimes catching the essence of the feeling without having to resort to 7 verses 24 lines long is hard. You did it well

Sorciere awoke from her slumber a little dazed. Napping in the afternoon, while enjoyable, did leave you slightly 'lost' for a while when you woke up. It was dark now, must of really needed that snooze. Just as she strolled over to her dressing table to fix her hair a strange, 'there's something I am supposed to be doing' feeling swept over her and she glanced at her mirror. The mirror was covered in flyers and then realisation set in. "The Party!!" Sorciere briefly skimmed the flyer for details and threw on her best purple gown, hair was going to be tousled, it was that way already and she had no time to do anything about it. As thoughts of hacking cats and underwear raced through her mind she set off in haste to the party. As she ran along the corridors she conjured little spells to help her with the entrance fee. Arriving at the line of people, relief set in that there was still a queue. At least she would not have to make a dramatic entrance. Dodging bits of spaceship and and negotiating a huge carrot statue, Sorciere arrived at Melba. "One hacking cat in underwear!" excalimed Sorciere and threw the poor kitten, trying in vain to cough up a furball, at Melba before racing past her into the party. Melba looked in bewilderment at the poor creature, struggling with it's predicament wearing a pink thong and turned to see Sorciere disappearing in the crowd. "Shall I go after her and get the proper entrance fee boss?" asked one of the trolls. " No, don't waste your time. By the time you explained what she did and she actually got it, the party will be over." Melba sighed and returned to the business at hand. Entering the large room and seeing the carnage and chaos that was ensuing, Sorciere suddenly remembered she didn't DO parties, at least not sober. Grabbing an empty bottle she headed for the sucker punch, trying to avoid everyone's eyeline. Holding the bottle in the noxious liquid until sufficiently full she gazed around for a retreat. "Ah, peace awaits me 'til I can get this inside me!" she grinned and headed up the stairs to the roof.

A warped Love, Ode to an Orange Your scent it calls me from afar You sit there, shining, on the bar Your green eye stares and tempts me in That 'eat me' look, I start to grin The visions of your zesty skin, Peeling back to what's within You make it hard to be undressed Acidic eyes are not the best I continuing peeling blindly on Til that skin is all but gone And now you're naked in my hand I see it now, the promised land As i prise you open wide Your juices flow from deep inside Tasting you in little sips I tease you with my gentle lips You drive me wild, you citrus flirt Who would think you came from dirt? Your pips don't even bother me Our unison is destiny Edit: merged to the contest thread, by request.

Oh Wren, it's like you looked inside me and wrote a poem about it. This is exactly what is happening to me right now, hence my sporadic irc appearances and complete failure to be a helpful pen member right now. Wonderful piece, captures so much so easily. Great work!

*Sorciere gets up from her purple cushion and walks towards one of the large windows. Staring out at the coldness from the warmth of the room, she recites. In little more than a whisper: Weighted is my heart This dreary day won't end Despite all that I've said My love, to you, I send. Forgive me for the pain But understand my need I never want to hurt you My heart, for you, will bleed. With a heavy sigh, Sorciere retreats from the window and exits the cafe, a small tear running down her left cheek.

*reserved for a comment when my head is working properly*

I see a man with a fish head wearing a cape. /me leaves to take her meds now

Happy, Happy Birthday both!!!

*Sorciere walks over to the wall of books and selects an ancient looking biography on a troll called 'Snorglebeb' and settles back onto her beautiful purple cushion. Glancing briefly over the top of the pages she looks at Wyvern and sighs. Mumbling some incoherant bad words to herself, she returns to her story.*

*Sorciere strolls down the long corridor, the flickering of firelight under the door attracting her attention. Pushing open the rather heavy ornate entrance quietly, she peeks into the lavish room. Spying a large purple floor cushion in the corner of her eye and feeling the glorious warmth of the fire, a tired Sorciere strolls towards the inviting scene and curls up quietly atop the cushion, her eyes scanning the myriad of books along the wall.* Ohhh what a wonderfully welcoming place!

I love the structure. The topic is a hard one and you have grasped the emotion absolutely perfectly. I really don't think this could of been written any other way than you have set it out. So sad, so scary, but I love it. *hugs*

Hauntingly painted. The repetition of the two lines at the end of each verse sets it off beautifully. I have a little trouble with verse 5, it doesn't seem to sit in with the rest of the poem. It may be just the way I am reading it and I am really bad at critique so please do not just take my word for anything. On the whole I followed the flow easily and the subject kept me interested until the last verse. Your use of description is wonderful and the images came quickly and easily to me. Congrats!

Happy Birthday!

Happy Birthday! (a little late)

It is more common thank you think. A lot of people really can't believe it when things start to go right for them, especially after a long period of misfortune. Some just take it as it comes but others, like you, are waiting for the bubble to burst. Subconciously you think if it's going to happen, you want it over with already so you push, like you say. The trouble is, most of the time, it is the pushing by you that will burst the bubble, not anything else. The most important thing is that you recognise you are doing it, many don't. Next time you find youself starting to push, stop. Back off. Take five minutes to clear your head. Tell yourself this is one of those times and notice what you are doing. Being aware of it really is in your favour. Only time will let you trust again, no one can give that to you, you have to build it. Just try not to judge the present on the past, they are bad comparisons. Good Luck Arwen, *hugs*

It is amazing how descriptive this is. The way you liken human actions to those of nature is wonderful. The comparison of a shoreline to hand shake is so obvious yet something that never crossed my mind. That is my favourite line of the whole piece. The desire to be close to someone yet fighting your own inner reserves is one common to many people I think. The fear of being so afraid that you are left alone forever is something I myself couldn't bear. I even read this line as if I were feeling the pain. Galling is an excellent choice of word there and I really can't think of a better one I would of chosen. Your choices of words and phrasing really expresses well to me the 'desparation' almost of wanting to be with someone you love. Great work!

You guys are the greatest! You have no idea how nervous I was before I posted this. After such a block, I really had started to convince myself I had lost it and yet, these comments are some of the best I have ever received! I know I asked you to be gentle, but wow. Thank you so much for givng me back my faith. I am so glad to be back among you all

I got it back! :woot:

You say in your description that this is a religious piece and of course, the references are all there. I am not a religious person, but I still enjoy reading the works of others. I really liked this. It was short but said many things and despite the religious connotations I believe many people can relate to this on a more personal level. Self belief and the belief of those around you can truly lift you up. Death is never an end for those who loved and were loved, for they will always live in the hearts of others. Beautiful piece, thank you for sharing it.

Please be gentle, this is my first piece for months! So happy to be writing again, yay! Mark of Man A castle stands and views the land Atop the mound, it’s stonework grand Built by man in glorious days It’s turrets lost in springtime haze It’s sight - the silent, flowing lands Built tirelessly by nature’s hands Majestic trees sway in the breeze Nestled buds hide from the freeze Tall grasses nurture growing nests Amid the silence, nothing rests. A gift from high untouched by pain This gentle picture can’t remain Look closely here, you’ll see the trail Beneath the gentle, misty veil The swords that rust amid the dirt The scars in bark from human hurt The vines, once snaking, grabbing life Lie strewn about, destruction rife The leaves, which wear a bloody shine The roots that swim in bloody wine Even this haven, man has marred Beaten, damaged, tainted, scarred. But nature, in good time, will heal The violent gashes soon reseal The mud will hide each horrid trace Of the death that stalked this place In years to come no one will know What fed the roots to make them grow Except those ancient, knowing trees Whose leaves still shiver in the breeze

I find it very hard to comment on work I know to be very personal to the writer, this being one such occasion. It is a dramatically written piece, the soft as stone reference causing you to stop and check to see you had read it right. The form and rhythm both work and it flows just fine. I just feel so deeply for you and the pain the work represnts. *Hugs*

Sorciere's plate of leftover birthday cake as she strolls to a quiet spot in the grounds. Book under her arm and Nimball™ now firmly planted in front of her, she stares with bewilderment at this thing that destroyed her lunch. In the distance Sorciere hears thunder and turns around to see an army of pen members all heading in her direction and she finally realizes what is going on. Dropping her book she grabs the Nimball™ with both hands and makes for the nearest door. Unfortunatly, her robe betrays her and she trips just as she reaches the step, catching her head firmly on the stone edging. Before losing conciousness her last recollection is the Nimball™ flying out of her hands and bouncing off the door. Covered in spleen, wearing a fedora and sporting a rather attractive cake frosting beard, the Nimball™ rebounds off the door in the direction of........

I just love completely off the wall writings like this one. You can look for hours and come up with several hidden meanings. Convince yourself the writer is referring to Vietnam, Iraq, the stockmarket crash of '29, anything! Most of the time, they are just in a weird mood and write something strange, but imagination is a wonderful thing. Writings like this trigger mine immensely, thank you for the laughs!