Sorciere

Happy Birthday (late as usual:o/)

I really like this and it is very personal to me also, which makes it all the more moving. Beautifully written Wren.

Thx for the comments For those having trouble, are there any lines in particular you find awkward? Maybe I could rework it some. Congrats Zool!

I like your poem Appy, very much. It reads really well and it's one of those 'you know what's coming and you still have to read it' types.

Happy Birthday!!!

Overlook me not you ruling eye Pass not this stubborn child I am but one And yet I come Defiant, seeking, wild Glance not o'er my little frame Or dare dismiss my face I am here too As strong as you Part of this human race Ignore me now for your own needs And you shall come to see When you are old And all is told You shall be lead by me So wary tread upon my rights Or mute my point of view I am but one And yet I come Behind me forms a queue

Ahhhhh I finally had time to read the amendments! I especially love: To trickle is to pass unseen So burst, spread over massive plains a much more descriptive pairing, great work, I liked them both but I can see you thought long and hard about it and I agree the second is better, well done!

That could be a top ten hit, flows beautifully. Sad topic but aren't all the great songs?

Paints clear images and great flow, well done!

Happy Birthday!!!!

She offered me a sugar lump This women I knew not I smiled politely, said 'no thanks' Street smarts I sure have got My momma said it was ok To take the sticky sweet In fact she seemed a tad too keen I squirmed and kicked my feet Now understand I am not one To turn my back on candy But this whole thing stank of a plan Which wasn't fine and dandy See when my momma seems real keen For me to eat 'fore lunch I know that something is amiss Right was I, in my hunch Just as I opened up my mouth A few things did unfold In went a bitter sugarlump While the stanger did grab hold My right arm now firm in her grasp My mouth full of some crap She stuck a needle in my arm I knew it was a trap I looked at momma eyes all full And glared at evil witch I vowed right there, the age of three One day I'd get that bitch Two years on and here I am Back in the nurse's chair My momma said I had been sick So she had brought me there But I remembered all the pain She caused me with her trap And when she said hun, open wide I threw up in her lap

Learning is one of the greatest things we have the ability to do, actually doing it shows the mark of true strength. Sometimes it's very hard to admit our own faults, even harder to change them, but it's the person content in their heart that can see beyond the mirror. Well written!

I really like the glass ceiling reference. It does sound like a poem written for writer's block, but can refer to so much more, one of those poems that fit most people in some situation or another. It's always good when you can write a relative poem and to get others to put their interpretations of what they see in your writing I think is one of the best things about being a poet.

being confronted with our own mortality is always hard to deal with, good capture.

Great flow in this one, it just ran away with me as I read it, I love it when a poem does that! Nice lesson in giving there too, very well done!

very nice, simple, yets states so much

Takes Notes Thanks for the advice! hehe

Walking past the entrance to the hall Sorciere hears her name and steps closer to eavesdrop in case someone is trying to blame her for something "Hey Parm, what's going on? I heard my name." "You got promoted! You are a Quill Bearer!" "A what?" "Quill Bearer! I got promoted to page too!" "Wow that's great!" smiles Sorciere as she huggles Parm tight After running around the room congratulating everyone who got promoted Sorciere sneaks off quietly and heads for the library, to find out exactly what a Quill Bearer is, what it means and more importantly, if it means she gets paid! OOC: Congrats to everyone! You all deserve it P.S. I hate typos

I would like to be able to teleport too, so much fun and cheaper than Airlines!

I agree with you about those two lines, although my head can't put your suggestion in there either for some reason, hmmm how about...... I complain about my lack of wealth As I place trinkets on my shelf or maybe something else, so many possibilites hehe ok we hate that, so this is the new couplet..... I complain of hardship to myself As I place my trinkets on the shelf yeh!

So well written, beautiful

Sorciere stares open mouthed at all the commotion caused by her scheming ally and noticing her fake tears drying fast she backs away into a darkened corner, only to trip over a sleeping pen member and fall with her legs in the air. Realising all dignity has now gone, she picks herself up and with her petticoat over her head, she glares at the almost dragon and quickly runs from the room in search of a rock to crawl under.

To judge the man with deep regret Before to know the toil he's met To watch the tears of widows fall When I, myself avoid the call To read of wars and damage done Yet still complain when having fun To cry of meals served 'not quite right' While thousands die in bloody fight To polish trophies on my shelf To complain of lack of wealth When children die from falling ill They can't afford the saving pill To dance upon my own free land No care for battles in the sand To discard food I cannot eat While passing beggars on the street To whine because my shoes are tight Ignoring those with their own plight This is the man I always see This is the man I cannot be Give me strength to do things right Lest I become dark as the night

haha parm, trust you. The poem was written to reflect that not all abuse has to be physical or indeed continuous to harm, sometimes the smallest things we do as adults can hurt children in ways we don't even know. A wrong word here, a small action there, these too are the things remembered by children, not just the big fights or the loud rows, some of my most painful memories are of a few words said without thinking, or something done in fun that was not amusing to me as a child. Sorry it is so sad.

The balloon was red and glowing in his hands The sun shone through it reflecting on his face His big smile said exactly where he was A very happy kid in a happy place His mom looked down and ruffled up his hair The day at the fete had been so full of fun They headed up the hill, his hand in hers Their bodies were outlined in the setting sun As they reached the gate the child ran ahead Eager to show pappa what he won that day Pappa took his cigar and burst the balloon Once more the boy's spirit had been washed away