Sweetcherrie

Brother Gulzar was supervising the servants who were digging the grave; a large group of monks had formed a circle around them. Every time one of the heavy shovels hit the earth, they flinched; probably hating burials as much as him, especially if they were of friends. The Brothers around him were all whispering speculations about the murderer. The latest rumours said that it had been Brother Benedicte. Brother Gulzar ran this name through his brain. He didn’t know much about the man; he hadn’t seen him around that much yet. All he knew was that Brother Benedicte was a scholar… didn’t he do something with liturgy and sacraments, yes, that was it. “Hey, you!” He said looking at two of the servants, who were whispering animatedly, “come on, keep going, we want to have this finished before dinner, besides I’ve got more to do than watching you work!” “… why doesn’t he go do that other stuff,” he heard one of the servants mutter. He decided to ignore it. He could understand that this wasn’t a pleasure for them either, and they were doing this job during their precious hours of rest. Whispers floated towards him, “…. isn’t he a friend of Bernard Farhaven, that other scholar? Yes, I saw them together in the library the other day…” Bernard Farhaven, another name he hadn’t heard of yet. If these two were friends, maybe they had done it together? OOC: I accuse Cryptomancer - Brother Benedicte. reason: It's a guess, but he's one of the poeple I haven't seen writing yet, and it's guessing at the moment anyways. sorry, nothing personal.

I will fly tomorrow First time I will die tomorrow Oh my I will fly tomorrow Back home I may die tomorrow Oh dear I will fly tomorrow Courage lost I can’t die tomorrow Oh God I will fly tomorrow Reason settles I won’t die tomorrow Oh no

*welcome the pen* I think you do matter, everybody has their place in live, and so have you. Don't forget after rain comes sunshine. It might take a while, and sometimes you feel like it's the monsoun pouring itselves out on you, but sun will come. *Hugs* - Sweetcherrie

Today’s the fight, may the best team win Our spirits are bright, so let the game begin A circle is made hands on hands The last piece of advice are the coach’s plans That number six serves pretty hard She knows her tricks, be on your guard Get in the field, show no remorse And do not yield, just stay on course The crowd goes wild with every score People smile, and spirits soar We shout and dive, knees scraping the floor We always strive to give just a little bit more A whistle sounds One arm goes down the other up After five rounds, we’ve lost the cup Under the shower the game washes away With our team power we’ll win one day Et voila, my answer to your challenge. I'm still trying to bend my brains around understanding 'meters', and other poetry techniques, so this will probably answer to no single poetry rule. I have however tried to implement an ABAB rhyme, and it reflects the feelings during a game pretty well. - Sweetcherrie

Brother Gulzar rumbled around in the messy tool shed. He found the shovel that he was looking for, and took it over to the sly stone. After all, Brother Adelmo deserved a decent grave, and for that his shovel needed to be nice and sharp. With his foot he set the large stone in motion, and with the stone also his thoughts started turning. Who would want to do such a thing? It simply couldn’t be one of them, could it? And if it had been one of them, then why? Absentminded he pressed the shovel against the stone, a howling sound rose up from it. I wonder what they discover when they study the body; maybe they will find some clues. God must have had a reason for this, shame it had to be Brother Adelmo, he was one of the few that always took the paths. God truly works in mysterious ways. He shook his head to clear his mind, looked out the window, and saw the servant that he had helped this afternoon. Together with four others he was carrying the body towards the monastery. Brother Gulzar couldn't help but smile when he saw how neatly they were taking the paths. Maybe I should try and find Brother Rhys tonight, and apologize. After all, I never meant to undermine his authority, I just couldn’t let an innocent servant receive punishment for my mistakes. Yes, tonight I will go and apologize. Happy with this resolution, he felt at the edge of the shovel, turned it around, and pressed the other side against the turning stone.

LOL - Sweetcherrie

I have been here for only a short time now, but it's poems like this one that make me feel very happy that I have found the pen. It's a message full of strenght to me. *Thanks* - Sweetcherrie

I wish I would receive poems like this on valentine's day *hugs* - Sweetcherrie

This is such a bad poem to read while you are listening to "Why?" from Annie Lennox. (the combination left me feeling kind of empty) I have to agree with Peredhill, and think that the repetition only adds on the feelings of despair. I think that that girl is missing out on a very sensitive person. *hugs* -Sweetcherrie

"Sticks in my lawn. Dear God, people just don't appreciate the perfect green anymore," Brother Gulzar mumbles, as he takes out the sign, and carefully covers the hole. "That was certainly different when I was working in the hanging gardens, now those were people that appreciated their plants. The thought is nice though..." and he places the sign neatly next to the lawn. Standing back and looking at the sign a plan forms in his head, and he runs of to the abbey. 2 hours later Brother Gulzar comes back huffing and puffing, from the heavy load he is carrying, and gets at work. again 2 hours later Once again standing back and looking at his work. The lawn now totally surrounded by wooden signs. "Now, if that doesn't work," he grins. OOC: Sorry guys, this one was too good to let it pass, but not really flowing in the RP, so I thought I'd put it here.... - Sweetcherrie

Looking up he saw Brother Thibault shambling towards the abbey with a pile of vellum in his hands. He changed direction to gice Brother Thiabault a hand,thinking, "That man is older than Metuselah, and still he insists on carrying things like that himself.” He had hardly taken two steps…and with a loud thudd, he found himself lying on the floor, face down in a big pile of Bryony roots. Looking up he saw brother Rhys, and one of the servants. “Hello, Brother Gulzar,” Brother Rhys said, while helping him up. “I told you accidents were bound to happen if you don’t clean up behind yourselves,” He said to the servant, “for penance, you will- “I’m sorry, but the Briony is my fault,” Brother Gultzar interrupted, “I wasn’t finished weeding the lawn yet.” Brother Rhys looked from one to the other, stamped his foot on the ground, and with a last, “Fine!” he turned around and rushed away. Brother Gultzar winked at the servant, “Just promise me to walk over the garden paths, and not the lawn.” The servant stammered a thank you, and ran off.

Ooh...ooh... yes, these I do know! :woot: 1. used to have a hairdryer, (but something went wrong when I used it in the shower, and now it blows up every single fuse in the house) 2. used to have a microwave, (but when I moved, I left it behind) 3. used to have a sega 16 bit (does this count?) 4. Yes, I do have a computer with internet 5. My parents have Cable television (So everytime I'm at their place they have to almost kick me of the sofa away from the tv) 6. Since I don't have a microwave anymore, instant meals are also a used to. Hmm... reading this over again makes me feel like a have-been -Sweetcherrie

I can feel the anger while reading, well done!! (btw, it's probably good to get it all out, all the better if you beam your anger into a creative direction) - Sweetcherrie

OOC: Hey Tan! Can I borrow some pop corn off you, it seems I'm out, and this RP is developing nicer than the film, so I might need some _Sweetcherrie

Thanks to Venefyxatu (honour, to whom it should be given), I am now able to translate the questionmarks, En viel toen in katzwijm >>> and then she swoomed. Thanks Mr Belgium *hugs* - Sweetcherrie

Brother Gulzar looks guiltily at the ground, and kicks his foot against a little stone to blow of at least some of the steam. “Yes, Brother Thibault, if it is needed, than I will plant Bryony,” “I’m glad we worked that out.” Brother Thibault says smiling, and shuffles on with the help of the novice. As soon as they're out of earshot Brother Gulzar turns to face Brother Mathieu, he has a provocative look in his eyes. “Would you like ‘Bryonia Dioca’, or do you think that ‘Tamus Communis’ would be a better idea?” He says haughtily. In the corner of his eyes he sees one of the novices walking accros his lawn. Forgetting all about Brother Mathieu and the Bryony, he goes after the poor boy, waving with his fists in the air, and shouting, “Geroff my lawn!” “Nutter…” Mumbles Brother Mathieu, shakes his head, and turns around to get back to his work.

Let me introduce myself my name is Brother Gulzar of Babylon. I'm the gardener around here, and if you dare stap on my 'sweet little flowers' again, I'm affraid I have to take firmer measures. Oh... one last thing, could you please stay away from the lawn, I have just spread out some ferilizer Thank you.

Appy: Btw, I have read some stuff from John O' Mill, en lag in een deuk van het lachen, ( I was rolling on the ground from laughing) The best one, from what I have read so far, is this Meaning: When men beg: "Please!" Girls, pack your stuff together It's never too late to get away Brilliant!!And the best thing is that the words don't even exist in Dutch, and have a totally different meaning in English Thanks again, *Greetzz* - Sweetcherrie

I have revised the first stanza, the only problem now is that I don't know how to translate it anymore Never Nooit Niet A better-looking man she had never seen En ook verstandig bovendien Said she’d love him till the end of time En viel toen in katzwijm But two weeks down the road Vond ze hem een idioot A new guy came in view En het verhaaltje begon opnieuw Now, ten years later Weet ze wel beter She’s still alone En vindt dat heel gewoon Now she says: Al word ik een ouwe bes I’ll never go for second-best Al is dat het enige wat rest English translation: A better-looking man she had never seen And on top of that, sensible Said she’d love till the end of time ???????? But two weeks down the road She thought him an idiot A new guy came in view And the story started all over again Now, ten years later She knows better She’s still alone And thinks that’s entirely normal Now she says: Even if I grow to be very old I’ll never go for second-best Even if that’s the only thing left

I stand in the crowd Tears frozen behind my eyes Nonetheless alone I’m like a pinball Frigid bouncing left to right And then inside out Faces in the crowd Coming from far away Polar expressions I search for cover White light flickers down on me Inside’s where is hide

http://www.themightypen.net/public/style_emoticons/default/ohmy.gif Please don't stop.....I need the rest of this....

I feel so ickle here, I only know candy cigarettes and even for that memory I had to dig deep. Guess in a few more years, we'll be writing down things like: Do you remember those mobile phones, the size of a fridge, without camera, and can't imagine what that must have been like books, and you say they had stories in it, without pictures?. I for one sure hope that the latter is never going to happen, but then people seem to find it more difficult to read a normal book everyday. Sweetcherrie

Thank you

First time I will be doing this, but it sounds really cool, so... yes, count me in! I have no preference for either script, and will be happy to play a monk or an actor. Or maybe an actor who plays a monk, or a monk that loves plays.

Thank you Appy I will go look for him on the web, it sounds interesting. *looks up the definition of stanza * Yes, ok, I know what you mean! Hmmm, I should work on that....I'll see if I can catch the little swimmer and hold him down long enough to change that. *Greetzz* Sweetcherrie