Krista

Hi again! I haven`t posted anything here for a long time and I thought that I might do that. When it comes to the poem though - what can I do, I`m a patriot:) I have to apologise for the primitivity of the poem though.....With this poem I also want to say happy birthday to my country:) I stand in the light of shooting stars and look at you, and look at you. My shining moon in the sky so dark, hear my song, it`s meant for you! When you are far away from me, I long for you, I long for you. Just to you I want to flee and sing my song to you. You make me happy when I`m sad - I think of you, I think of you. You make me better when I`m bad, please hear my song for you! I`d save you from whatever threat, I`d fight for you, I`d fight for you. Only friends are who I`d let to sing that song to you. So hear me singing with great love this song for you, this song for you, my little sweet Estonia - I`ll always be true to you!

Thanks for answering my little question:) It`s very good that there will be a forum called European Exotics. So smaller european languages (like mine) won`t be left in shade. I read the manor purposes in the cafe and all those forums are a very good idea:)

Why only big European languages? This is discrimination of smaller languages! For example Estonian, Latvian, Lithuanian. I understand that there might not be many representatives of those countries here but I`m sure there are enough. Why is Russian more important than Estonian or Latvian? I`m sorry but I feel a bit discriminated here, it`s like my language didn`t excist at all.

Liina was watching down to Heinrich with sad look, thinking: “Why is he trying to deny it? He knows that I`m not evil. How could I be evil? I wasn`t let go through the Gate….I tried but I couldn`t because I belong here now…But I don`t want to…. There must be a way….”

He rushed out of the room without thinking of anything or anyone he had left behind. He tried to get rid of his thoughts that were circulating in his head. Only one voice was endlessly echoing in his brain - "I`m not evil....help me..." He grabbed his head and screamed desperately.

“What I need? You are asking me what I need.... I need...” Suddenly he saw Liina again – “Liina!” “Heinrich, help me... I am not evil.... “ Heinrich was confused, an awful chaos was taking over his heart and soul. “Remember our vows...” whispered Liina with fading voice.

Heinrich listened to Laranta carefully but suddenly it seemed to him that it was not Laranta`s shape in front of him any more. It was Liina`s. Her sad eyes were looking right through him. Heinrich closed his eyes and when he opened them, Liina was gone but not the guilt inside him...

"Those stupid books" thought Heinrich, "those stupid books forced me to kill Kissa... Why did I do it?? This cat was my very best friend...right after Liina. Why didn`t I stay with her like we promised to each other...." Heinrich was shaking and he could not concentrate any more.

Heinrich was standing, frozen, and could not move himself. He wanted to help Laranta but that cat.... He could not harm it. “Cats are not evil...It is not possible....” said Heinrich to himself. He remembered Kissa, his pet cat he had loved so much once. “Help me...” reached Laranta`s cries to his brain.

Laranta was flickering, she desperately tried to change back into herself but the shape of the cat was too powerful. Heinrich wanted to do something but he did not know how to help Laranta. Did she need any assistance at all? Heinrich was confused. Suddenly he could hear Laranta`s silent fading voice: “Help me.....”

So, I`ll try then:) As the shape became clearer, the look on Heinrich`s face became more and more terrified. He felt that he could not move himself any more. He just kept staring the shape in front of him as he realized that it was not Laranta. It was a giant cat.

I had to write a poem for a contest at school...it had to praise wales. I`m actually quite far from being welsh but the poem won... The Welsh Spirit Over the hills and plains, over the woods and meadows, over the rivers and lakes the Ancient Spirits are flying, floating in the soft breeze that is carrying their transparent bodies farther.....closer....again and again.... They are watching their lands. They are dead but not gone... Byth*..... The meadows were greener when they were alive, the forests were mightier at that very time, the water was clearer in rivers and lakes - once again the old Welsh Spirit will wake! “My people, it is your land! Your undefeated bodies will not let them take it away! Your brave hearts will defend it forever! We will win! We will hold our culture, our freedom, our home! RYDDID**! RYDDID! RYDDID!!!” They were invincible yet their bodies were beaten. Their hearts were brave yet they were slaughtered. They were overthrown yet the Welsh Spirit lives forever. They will defend their souls that can never be taken away... Byth..... Soaked with blood, these places are empty now. Foreigners have stepped on the memories of the past, memories that are held by the Ancient Spirits who are present every hour, every minute, every second, who do not know Time, who are timeless. They are there, covering the bloody land with golden peace. Quiet.... Only soft breeze carrying the Welsh Spirit... Once again when time is right, the Ancient Mind will start to fight. Never giving up – then and only then the Welsh Spirit will rise again! *byth – never **ryddid - freedom

So this is a translation of it: I`m a cat and I want to sleep I`m a cat and I want to bite I`m an evil cat - don`t touch me! that`s a direct translation.....

That`s a stupid poem that came to my head in the spanish course:p I`m learning spanish for the first year so there are certainly numerous mistakes but eh whatever:p The poem is about my friend`s cat.... La canción de Sohvi Soy la gata y quiero dormir. Soy la gata y quiero mordir. Soy la gata muy malhumorada - nunca no me toca! Hehe:p

24.02.1918 “War. Brave men dying. Blood everywhere.... Screaming....crying....pain. Shot, slaughtered, murdered. Then the victory came! The great victory after centuries of occupation” The hall is quiet... Everybody is listening, calmly, with lonely tears in eyes. The tears of pride. “Freedom! Freedom! Freedom! LIBERTY!!! VABADUS!!!!” The silence seems almost sacred, As if in the holy groves worshipping the ancient gods. No christianity that has violated freedom, the true freedom in the estonian soul but it outlived the german god, it outlived the soviet atheism. Now it is free again - free to rise again. The hall is silent, History itself can be seen in people`s faces. The air is thick of patriotism. Holy silence taking over, taking over wars, foreigners, enemies to rule. The Estonian spirit is to rule now. Music is filling the hall. Magical northern sounds are floating in the room, reaching to every single person. Everybody is listening, listening to ancient spirits who talk through this music, who touch young people`s hearts. VABADUS! VABADUS! VABADUS! The snow is calmly falling outside.... Falling and falling and falling..... big snowflakes...cold snow behind the window. They are free as us. “But the time shall come in future When all splinters by both tips will Really flare up into fire, Flame of fire will bring freedom, Carve hand out of rocky prison - The the Kalev will come home and, Making happy all successors, Alter the Estonian eras.” said Father Kreutzwald and his prediction has come true… Kalev came...

This is the revised version of that poem. I admit that the first version really was awful But I hope that this one is better. I want to thank Alaeha who kind of opened my eyes.... How to write a poem that`s good? First you must have an appropriate mood. Take your time and calmly sit down and do not feel odd to think loud. Title is not the first thing you need, though I must admit it`s important indeed because on the title the whole poem leans. Write it later on when you know what it means. Your poem can be either happy or sad Ironic instead or a little bit mad. You also must find something to describe, it can be whatever – just make up your mind! Then you have to think what language it`s in - if there`s a dilemma, let the nicest one win. Still your native language the best would be (although the rightest person to say it is not me). Now find some words you think that would describe your theme as well as they should. Then into some meaningful units you'll tie them. You can do fun things, like a rhyme. When you have done all that I`ve said into the secrets of poetry you`ve been led. Share your piece with others as well - TheMightyPen is the best, I can tell.

How to write a poem. How to write a poem that`s good? First you have to be in an appropriate mood. The only things you need are not pen and paper, also a certain amount of time should be taken. Title is not the first thing you need, though I must admit it`s important indeed because on the title the whole poem leans. Still write it in the end when you know what the poem means. Then you have to decide whether the poem`s happy or sad or maybe it is ironical instead or a little bit mad. You also must find a target to describe, it can be whatever – just make up your mind! Then you have to think what language it`s in - if there`s a dilemma, let the nicest one win. Still your native language the best would be (although the rightest person to say it is not me). Now find some words that you think would go with the theme you`ve chosen –it`s easy, you know! Then into meaningful units them tie and finally put them into rhyme. When you have done all that I`ve said into the secrets of poetry you`ve been led. Now share your piece with others – Where? – Ok then, if you ask me, a good place would be “TheMightyPen”.

Thank you for getting rid of the duoble post

Nähh...it is double now....my stupid stupid computer . But ega küll küllale liiga ei tee.....

Just something I wrote during boring classes......The estonian version is better though. If anybody is interested in it (if anybody here can understand it) then ask me. From North to South. Cold and moveless far-away Northland. Below ancient permafrost veins of life are throbbing but they have been forgotten. The ice.... covering everything. The water, the earth, the air... Large open ice fields that are under the shield of ice. Sources of life are trying, trying very hard yet they are frozen, wrapped by ice and the life will fade waiting for warmth that is not coming. Cold...ice.... Snow...falling from the sky and crystallizing. Coming down on a frosty ground. Soft....white... Cold. Descending from the sky so grey and cloudy... There are no colours. The sun is pale, like a dispersed spot watching the colourless world. It is like a distant star that doesn`t give light or heat. Like Sirius or the North Star. North.... Northern sun... Northern lights.... Flashing in the darkest night, in an eternal night...in a polar night. Showing a colourful light.... the only light... The cold light. Stars among northern lights. Shining... Like the sun that doesn`t give any heat. Beautiful....like eyes looking down at the cold land. The land is resting, resting of life. Peace, quiet.... Cold. Lonely but peaceful. No confusion..... no thoughts because the air is frozen and doesn`t move anything. The wind is just an ice crystal.. Frozen soul, mind, heart like the Northern Maiden has whose heart`s shield of ice even Väinamöinen`s song couldn`t break. Like the Queen of Ice whose soul is cold but who is powerful. Noone can beat her. Powerful emptyness wrapped in icy air. Peace...quietness... Stability. There`s no storm That could conquer the ice. There is no confusion. Tranquility reaching over endless snow fields. Cold. Suddenly a lonely ray of light has found the way into invisible yet existing crack in invincible shield of ice. So insignificant yet its heat melted the ice. The crack widened. Gentle warmth crept under the ice warming the sources of life and making them alive. More and more cracks... more rays... less cold..... less ice. Melting the earth and making the juices of life flow that had been waiting so long, hidden beneath the ice. The water is flowing. Slowly at first, then faster, stronger breaking the ice and changing the face of the North. Fading clouds in a blue sky. Colours. Bright colours in the sky and on the earth. Storm. Water raging and sweeping the last large chunks of ice that will disappear soon. The golden sun shining in the blue sky. Plants springing. Rain. Storm. Turmoil. Confusion which did not exist in the cold. Instability. Life.....Bubbling life Obligations. Obligation to notice the storm because it would be impossible not to. Warm...hot...burning... How to get away? Panic! There`s no way out. Must notice. Must be. The world has been unsettled. There is no peace, no quiet. Would like to go back.... back to the cold northland where the power was. Control. Longing... Longing for frostiness and the silver shield. Longing for the Northland.... If there hadn`t been that first ray that seemed so meaningless yet it was fatal. Hope... Where is hope? The hope has melted with the ice leaving behind confusion. An awful confusion...

Everybody have a different understanding of happiness. Mine is here. Happiness. What is happiness? Does anybody know? Or whether I`ve been happy or not? Does happiness somehow show? Of all things, is it the top? In a familiar room where I sit, playing a beloved game, I`ve started to understand It a bit on this cold and snowy winter day. Happiness is in a pile of old books, that once made us laugh so much, and in a plastic rose that so artificial looks - but still it has a sentimental touch. It sits on the table of that game, I can still hear happy talking around it, reading fairy-tales with fascinating names that once were born of ancient Estonians`wit. It plays the strings of an old quitar, so sad, still happy is the song, It sits on a couch from the past that hasn`t been slept on so long. It strokes the fur of a grey cat and hugs a dog who before It stands. It holds a soft toy that`s so sweetly fat and falls asleep with it in Its hands. It hides Itself in a castle of snow that looks like a palace - It is so proud. To Santa It sings the songs that It knows though a bit wrong but still happily and loud. It swings on a creaking swing - the higher and higher it goes. Bicycle is Its most precious thing, by this everywhere It goes. It rides in the sky with the Great Bear - sense of time It has completely lost. Happiness everything dares, didn`t realize that so happy I was!

Ok, I`m not actually THAT egoistic.... An Ode to Me Once when everything`s been changed and the order of the world rearranged, when all the green on Earth has gone and nature`s finally been won. When there are no nations any more, just some people left from the Big War. Then in a dark and cold cliff cave, that once was shaped by ocean waves, a lonely sheet of paper lays waiting for its gloriful day. This piece of hope, hidden in that cave, to all humans will show the way. This old yellow paper that so worthless seems - actually the whole world it means, the rows on it, that everything say, from a long lost poetess called K.

Actually I do the same what you`ve just said.....

I had nothing to do one evening after a certain incident.... 10 times guilty I`m guilty for not being grateful enough, I`m guilty for being sometimes too tough, or maybe just because I`m too weak and for not being always so very neat. I`m guilty for being so modest they say but if I wouldn`t be, I`d be guilty in other way. It`s said I`m guilty when I very much talk but it`s also wrong when I silently walk. They think I`m a fool if I don`t fall in love but they don`t know that of their knowledge I`m above. I`m always guilty for not being guilty at all, that`s because between me and the world there is a wall.

Actually the original of this tale is in estonian and a lot longer. This piece here is sort of a summary of it. The tale may seem a bit cruel but if you don`t feel sorry for the characters then it shouldn`t seem so heartless any more The Simi Saga The story of the Times have been put an end, until the new chosen ones are sent. As you see, life can be cruel in a way that I can`t explain and I don`t think somebody else could face it all again. But it`ll happen, you`ll see, the history repeated once will be. The Gods can`t think of something new. Maybe the next Chosen One are you. Though you may seem wise, you may seem old It still feels that you have just come into this world. Your life is always controlled by Fate And, you know, it`s for your own sake. You trusted in your feelings, you counted on your heart, But every pulse just made it worse and tore it all apart. Be careful, what you wish for, those wishes can be turned in a way you never want, and then it`s too late to learn. Silently in your destiny you float, like once, long time ago, Shakespeare wrote: All the world`s a stage, it says and you`ve got seven acts to play. Would you believe me, just one time, if you do that, you`ll survive. Learn from Simi`s life so cruel, he rebelled more than Robin Hood. I`m gonna sum up Simi`s mission, which he accomplished with great passion. It will be in his mother tongue and I promise, not so long: Once upon a time there lived a boy who felt in his life nothing but joy. He was quite happy `cause his name was Simi and he was everything else but timid. He went to school where others dared not to honour him enough there. He had jeans that were so worn out - they were extremely old – no doubt He also had a shirt made of flannel and squared - I genuinly wonder how he this ventured to wear. In the pocket of his shirt he had a photo quite lame of an old man with a beard whose clothes looked the same. But the dearest part of this costume were sandals so ragged - the reason why everybody at Simi nagged. One beautiful day Simi Gertrud saw - his feet weren`t touching the earth any more. This was the prettiest girl, you know, just as nice as a yeti`s toe. Her hair were waving in the mild breeze just like dirty roots, you see. And her jacket that had fringes so arch was old, quite smelly and didn`t call to be touched. But in Simi`s eyes she was simply a queen, and the reality for him was not to be seen. But Gerru had a boyfriend – oh horror, oh dread! – from his anger everybody had fled. But not Simi, our hero so brave - even a wild lion he could have tamed. He won Priit, this frightful toad and got Gerru`s heart – his main goal. But to live happily forever and more wasn`t meant for them, apart they were torn. Because they didin`t like each other so well than they`d thought at first, I must tell. But Simi was not a usual guy, he wasn`t living just to die. Picked by Gods, he was the Chosen One who had some work that had to be done. He was to save the world from the Creature who had fairly supernatural features. That was the Fight to end This Time, to destroy the Evil Spirit of this Shrine. Simi managed to win it, although it was hard - in this game he had the winning card. The Creature faded back where he had come, also Simi because his work had been done. The mission was accomplished and the world was happy, in Simi`s honour they were joyfully clapping. But Simi – to the Land of First Time he was taken where all the Chosen Ones had again been awaken. As a flash a thousand years have passed. For Gods just like a stone had been cast. Another cycle is coming to an end, I hear a child has just born, my friend... This was the story, promise me now, that you`ll learn from it no matter how. Simi found his calling after passing a path so long, and this was the moral of my song. Obrigado for listening this educative piece, That`s the least you could do for the World Peace. As a true way of life the tale was meant, Espero falar contigo rapidament(e). Actually I think we will never meet again, though events like that happen every now and then. The Wheel of Life is round you know, whatever you do it will always be so. For eternity the stars will be in the sky and the fact is also that the Gods will never die. The Universe up there will be running this sphere and this is for sure that He will always be there. So, adiós amigos, goodbye, adieu! Only know, that all we do is for the World...