Tavarilyn

And, I'm back... at least for a short while. Here's #12.... #12 Home burning bridges never felt as sweet as it does with you. to replace that would be a sin - but - I'd think about it if it meant never being questioned again. never again loathing tearing at my breast. making me hate you, hate me, wanting nothing more than love, love to rescue me... from home.

Thanks Snyp! Missed you guys, too. I guess we'll see what comes out of my brain next, eh?

*peeks in, trying to sneak by unnoticed* Well. Five years. Talk about a hiatus! I suppose this challenge is very very inactive by now, but maybe I'll keep going, nevertheless... I think I left off on #8. Here are three more. Maybe I can make up for lost time in bulk. #9 Haunted I miss the scent of newness, The ache of growth, Where passion meets reality Where adolescence folds into adultery The twisting of like minds, like bodies, Twisting around taboos Celebrated at every turn by bodies born of lust. I miss the scent of night, The pain of smiling, At every little thing, At the essence of debauchery The forging of new bonds, new loves, Forging old hopes Into daydream fantasies of bodies born by faith. #10 yadretsey time rolled backwards yesterday, tick-ticking the milliseconds slowly, turning off the tumultuous torrent, taming the lies, the loves, tempering the deepest wishes, terminating the turmoil tenderly, tendering resignation, til time stood still... and we breathe again. #11 Hearthburn There's not enough medication To undo the alcohol cravings To pacify my longings To make me forget you I have only tears Where joy was Pathetic whispers of loss Need buried deep in the marrow of my soul A lodestone pulls me toward ruin As I waste a way to nothingness Dreaming of what could have been Of what will never be. Thanks for reading, folks. Life is, as always, a constant source of inspiration. Not always positive inspiration, but inspiration nonetheless. Until later... ~Tava

Thanks, Ozy... I've been writing more lately. Slowly, I'm regaining the impetus to write and post. As always, I'm glad to hear my poetry is evocative. (waves) Glad to be back!

(waves) Howdy all! I don't know if anyone here remembers me but I dusted off my poet's hat again lately and thought I'd pop by. Life has been as crazy as it ever was and that's provided a wealth of inspiration... ~ Tav _______________________________ 1) Broked Twisted and broken, beaten down. Tired and lost, about to drown. Sandpaper retinas from too many tears, Too many rationales over the years. Burnt and bruised left alone. Hate and loved, chilled to the bone. Heartbeat crushed from too many lies, Too many emotions behind the eyes. Up and down, turned around. Past and future buried underground. Torn apart from too much hurt, Too many kicks into the dirt. 2) inspired heaped vodka tumble of auburn hair and helplessness, caught, calmly collected by patient hands with turbulent depths, maelstrom, underneath a ten day stay of placidity impaled on reality, recalling whispers in the dark. our poetry goes no where, my heart stillborn on a Sunday mourning, so tentative the details flow, stuttering through a beginning that cannot be, but in dreams see succor and smile at dark eyes beneath the brim, recalling turns of phrase in the light.

back in the saddle again? ... unsure. the verdict on life is a hung jury. i'm sure there's prose in there, but here's another poem instead.... ~tav ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ serendipity like every forward, every dedication, in every book i've ever read choke, how cliche, on the tears, memories, you and i too many short lines, not enough prose, god, please answer my calls, my emails, i love you you love her

#7... Haven't posted much lately; feelin' a lil low... ~Tav ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ life in B minor the antidepressants always pressing in destroy the bounds of my graph asymptotic poison to the wallet, to the mind supposedly natural depression cost a pretty penny to fix fixed me fixed my wallet wrapping oblivion all shiny static against the wooly walls no highs no lows stuck on the median stuck on the mean steadily realizing how average life spans wane and wax to the tune of pharmaceuticals but so over the drug my not-now drug despising all drugs despising myself rising above the normal curve yet wondering about a prescription alcohol plan cursing forward thinking ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#6... this was an in-between-er... ~Tav ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ tired I used t'think depression was.. a time of day thing. But tears are like sweat, showin' up when the hard work's done. You rethink, rework, but life's still the same. An' I turn to my girl, Honey... You love me? I love you, mama... Good, good. Cause your life's gonna change come t'morrow. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

lo. i'm low, barren, bereft, into the cleft. dye. i'm dying, warp, weft, into a soul bereft. there. i'm theirs, culled, cult, into the rift.

Just one of those nights. Lyrical, hopefully still poetic. ~Tav ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ bending flex me this way and that watch watch as i fold against your will against my will yet.... want i want, desire even need i need, hate even toss me this way and that turn turn as i bleed against your will against my will yet... hate i hate, loathe even love i love, desire even fling me this way and that burn burn as i laugh against your will against my will yet... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Echoing like bats hunting in my cranium" .... spectacular image. I feel your pain. "That familiar, empty feeling presided, mixed With that other familiar friend; self-contempt" .... somewhat weighty in the wording and I feel a more concise version might be in order, but I enjoy your line breaks. Something about the way they play with eachother puts the right tone together. "An hour of frantic searching later And boarding the tram in defeat I was still roaming But no one picked up on it As I faced the loss of the world By myself, utterly." .... perfect. Roaming. Such an excellent double entendre. And the ending, "utterly", is exactly timed. While revamping of some timing/verbage might be in order to improve overall flow, your message transmits intact. Nicely done, Tav

A reply, and in poetic verse/form no less (intentional?). -smiles- Trust me when I say I understand the imposition of life on the creative. You've got an impressive body of work here. I'm on #5 and you're in the upper decades already. -chuckles- So it goes, yes? I look forward to more. I see an insight in your work and I like it. Your unconventional view of the conventional is refreshing. ..... and thanks for the comments left for me .... much appreciated. Short stories? I look forward to a prose version of your poetry. Blessings of creativity and inspiration to you, Tav

Quick and dirty... a lil more narrative this time, but no less introspective. Thank you for all the comments and patience and such. :} ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ interim i haven't thought about you for days except when motorcycles ripped up the road at eight when the doctor called in anger at nine when lawyers wrote the custody papers at ten when the internet spread your news at eleven when our daughter had her birthday at twelve when i had my breakdown at ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks all! So many kind words and I've not even had a chance to leave comments for anyone else. -blush- Many apologies; I've been absent a few days. Life did it's "thing" again. Always gettin' in the way... suffice to say, the rest of this week is going to be eventful? -sighs- We'll see if I can dredge anything out of my brain. ~Tav

#3: ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ bottom of the bottle the light dims as black, bleak, brittle ripples muzzy fuzziness in the distortion of life's cracks shallow breaths concuss, reverberate from their pressures the earthquake shudders pain-wracked limbs, lips, loves slide out of space-time into the gravity well well before the walls collapse, implode from their lips the lucid thoughts dip, dive, drown out of reach of hands grasping in and out and in and out through wall-eyed glass only the tableau remains from their fists ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

-grins- As motivation is my worst enemy (rather, lack thereof), I hope I can keep up with the pace. I'm already behind a day or two, hehe. Got ideas, but they don't want to materialize on their own. So we'll see. Thank you, though, for the encouragement. I've been writing poetry for a goodly long time but I'm rusty; it's been years. Got a lot to live up to, with both of you lightin' up the forum daily. Thxmuch, Tava

Oh! And thank you, Snypiuer. :} It's good to be back. Hopefully I'll be able to keep this up. Life is very... life-y... right now. As one might expect, that makes for some wonderful (<---pfft) interruptions to the creative process. Cheers, Tav

#2: He loves me... he loves me not... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ruining roses loose-leaf sheaves, upon which your hand writing left lasting impressions, expressions teasing memory, sit naked in my hand. rote-scribed inscriptions, humiliation writ large righted a wrong, existentially noble largess, exist solely in my memory. rough-hewn hues, vermillion petals annihilating nihilistic desires, peddling eternal love, reflect dazedly in my eyes. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

-stretches- Holy carp has it been so long? Geez. I mean, it wasn't like I posted here much to begin with but has it really been years...? -sheepish- So, perhaps, as penance (Pen-ance?) I shall throw myself on the mercy of a challenge and see what comes of it. -grinds off the rust- I haven't written a poem in years (are we seeing a theme here?) but I was driving home tonight and several thoughts hit me at once. I've been reading through Mardrax and James' posts, greatly impressed, so I thought "why not". And here I go..... Cheers, Tava #1: ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ...safe, then sorry cancer begone, i deny you such predawn revelation as is buried point oh six millimeters below my fingernails, gripping tender soul filaments, belladonna-laced thoughts in black cages of ash flakes... flakes... flake, i named you and your succor, buried beneath layers of pith, my nesting doll with no soul or hate, no love in word or deed, all ash cakes... cakes... caked on you yet somehow always clean, buried in plain sight of my eyes, ears, nose, lips, heart and soul yet somehow always hidden in between the sheets, the love poems made of ash ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Here'S a re-write of the original (listed above). Unsure about it's completeness but time will tell: ...safe, then sorry cancer begone i deny you such predawn revelation buried point oh six millimeters below my fingernails gripping tender soul filaments belladonna-laced thoughts in black cages of ash flakes... flakes... flake i named you and your succor buried beneath layers of pith my nesting doll with no soul or hate no love in word or deed all ash cakes... cakes... caked on you yet somehow always clean buried in plain sight of my eyes, ears, nose lips, heart, soul yet somehow always hidden in between the sheets the love poems made of ash

-dusts self off- Well. Ahem. It's been a long, long time since I visited the Pen and I've been reminiscing of late. Finally got to work on a new story a few months back but a prologue is all I've to show for it. -smiles- Time flies and life gets away from us so easily... I would appreciate opinions, critiques, even a "read-through" or two. Or nothing at all. It's nice to have a place to post. ~ Tav -------------------------------------------------- P R O L O G U E In the year 1241... The expansive crowd shifted under the heat of the midday sun, filling the Court Pavilion with more bodies than it had seen in decads. Though the sun's heat was mild, the press of bodies and their stench, mostly unwashed, damped the spirits of all but the heartiest revelers. Ribbons and coins festooned every tree branch of the courtyard, pink and red bows adorned every light pole, and sorcerers' glowing baubles hovered high overhead, filling the sky with rainbows clearly visible even in daytime. At the imminent hour, only standing room was available to all but the wealthiest of nobility and all were taking advantage to paw and press their neighbors, hoping to catch but a glimpse of the newest royal couple to grace the Casteland. Arric wrinkled his nose at the oppressive stench, squirming back and forth in his seat while his nan did her best to settle him, to no avail. His collar was already half undone, the gel ruffled from his hair and his shoes half off though the ties still in place. Though every one of his friends were out in the crowd, he could see their heads bobbing and weaving as they escaped the grip of their many nans, governs and other watch-keepers, he was forced to sit to the left of the dias with his other siblings, all of whom were younger. His sister's marriage was the most important occasion of the decad but she was older by too many years, a "memento" of a long-ago wedding day his mother would always say wistfully. To his left sat imposing Nan Albern, whom he called Albie to her chagrin. To his right was every other sibling of the Auseleim castel. His next brother, Seigrun, was but a year younger and sitting at full attention, eyes perfectly forward and bright, mouth curved with disdain at some unvoiced sentiment. Arric paid him no more than a sidelong glance before leaning foward to peer down the line. Next to Seig was their younger sister, Urila, almost three and a half years Arric's junior. Catching eachothers' glance, the pair shared a quick wink. They were too much alike, according to everyone with an opinion and while most sisters and brothers often had strained relations, Urila was Arric's companion in all things mischief. Though he was twelve and she nine, they'd been fast friends since the day she emerged from the room of their eldest sister, Kailin, with Kailin's favorite doll separated from its head and she singing all the while as the shrieks rang out behind her. No, it was quite clear that neither of them wanted to be there but the punishment was, for once, not worth the risk. Last and finally, the youngest son of Lord Orim Auseleim. When Arric thought of Edevon, he always let loose a sigh. Today it was a slightly smaller sigh since the marriage proceedings were about to begin but it came out regardless. Both Arric and Urila had tried desperately to pull Edevon out of his shell but no one, particularly not themselves, had been able to ellicit so much as a syllable from the youngest Auseleim since he'd learned crying wouldn't get him anything more than a good pounding. Quite a mystery, really, being that Ari and Uri had employed a more diverse methodology than the host of doctors and physics brought in by the good Lord and Lady Auseleim. Though the two often disagreed on the results, Ari was sure his tub dousing had worked far better than Uri's lighting Edevon's shoes afire. But those days were long past and Arric and his sister had long since given up their self-appointed task. So at the end of the line of royal siblings sat Edevon. Quiet Edevon. Silent Edevon. Contemplative Edevon. Arric crossed his arms over his chest and rolled his eyes as Albie tapped his knees sharply to draw his attention. Everyone else was standing as the Ministry began their long approach from the back of the Pavillion. Somewhere, flutes began to play and an organ took up a light accompaniement and as the crowd grew quiet the music seemed to grow louder until at last the Ministers filed onto the dias - one, two, five, ten, eleven of them. As the head minister took his place, the music swelled to a delicate crescendo and cut out completely, leaving a dead hush over the entire crowd as Kailin appeared on the arm of their father, Lord Orim, at the front of the Pavillion. With one kiss to each cheek, Lord Auseleim turned away from his daughter and moved through the wall of ministers to sit on his throne, to the left of his Lady. As he sat, the entire congregation sat as well, leaving Arric a tad disconcerted as his sister's new husband emerged to remove her veil. Lord Peloran vis'Courian was a tall man with slender shoulders and, what some would describe in private, as delicate features. Arric had always thought he looked like a girl but the one time he mentioned such to his sister, the bride to be, he went two days without food on the order of his mother. Now, he kept his thoughts to himself, but it didn't stop the thoughts from coming. The vis'Courian brood had done their best, he thought, to make Lord Peloran look more manly. His marriage attire had been designed entirely of dark blue velvet with silver accents. The incredibly pale platinum of his hair was tied back underneath a velvet cap like those used for sorcerial ceremonies and, instead of the currently-fashionable tights, doublet and boots favored by the nobility of the Castelland, he wore long pants with wide leg openings and slippers with no heel. All in all, Arric found himself surprised by the transformation to the point that he had no adverse thoughts other than that his sister was marrying the youngest vis'Courian who was just at marriage age and, hence, two years her junior. Despite all the thou "shalts" and thou "shall nots" floating through the room, resounding through the crowd via the boom of the head minister's voice, Arric found his attention drawn more to Kailin than anything. She was not a boy and couldn't inherit her father's throne. Not that she wouldn't have made an excellent Lady Regent. Even at his age, Arric knew well that his father would rather have Kailin on the throne than him. Arric's schooling was passable but not stellar, his weapons and tactics training was middling, and his noble pursuits, artistry and dancing and the like, were always found lacking. Quite frankly, common gossip around the court was that unless the Casteland was ever want for mischief, Arric's talents would not be needed. Granted, unless the laws were somehow changed or his father mysteriously fall ill or Arric were to mysteriously perish, the throne would fall to Arric anyway and if both Lord Auseliem and his eldest son were to die, Seigrun would inherit. Which did mean that, while there was grumbling, no one would dare challenge the law with Orim alive and if Arric got himself offed doing something mischievious, well, then the Castelland was well-off anyway. At twelve, he was hardly worried about his future. In fact, though his parents were largely unaware, his sorcerial training was coming along particularly well. Indeed, his tutors often said his ability was second only to Kailin's who was the most masterful pupil they'd had in a great while. Their biggest regret was that she was to be married and, therefore, soon to lose access to her gift. Arric crossed his arms over his chest with a huff. He couldn't understand how somone of Kailin's remarkable talent could possibly give it up for the likes of Lord Peloran vis'Courian and while she was two decads and two years and fully capable of making her own decisions, Arric had often thought, privately, that she should have her senses checked. That, alas, was the single biggest thing on which he and Urila disagreed. Arric, though someday if he survived all the court nonsense would be required to marry, refused to understand how someone with the choice would give up their sorcerial talents. If virginity was the key to sorcery, he'd told Uri, it was an easy price. Urila, who had been eight at the time of Kailin's Marriage Promising had been so furious the conversation had ended there and she'd not spoken to Ari for a week. Looking at Kailin in her sweeping gown, white velvet and white satin rippling in the hot summer breeze against the backdrop of the setting sun, Arric furrowed his brow and shifted in his seat. The velvet of his breeches was sticking to his tights which, in turn, was sticking to his skin. An itch was creeping its way up the back of his leg but it was time to stand up again and his hand was too far away to scratch the itch away. As the sun continued downward, Peloran took Kailin's veil completely off and Kailin took his hat in the symbolic gesture of giving up sorcerial power that came with marriage. Arric saw a brief glimmer on both faces as the two were pronounced formally married and wrinkled his nose in disgust. In that moment, watching the formalities continue, Arric wished, as never before, that he'd been born a year later, that the future of the Casteland wouldn't depend on his rule. Sinking back into his seat with the rest of the congregated, he shot a glance toward Urila to liven his boredom but found her in rapt attention, gaze focused on the dias, mouth slightly agape. Following her line of sight, the absolute, still silence and growing dimness of the lighting registered through the uncomfortable thoughts distracting Arric. The fabled part of the Casteland marriage ceremony had arrived; it was time for the God-Messengers to appear. Arric had once heard that no one was able to open their eyes during the Messengers' arrival but he'd always attributed that to fear. Another rumor said there were no messengers, but that the Ministers put something in the air to cloud vision so no one was able to see the truth of things but he'd always believed those few idiotic enough to claim it wouldn't see truth if it bit them in the ankle. Something in the moment, sitting in the Pavillion, surrounded by tens of decads of bodies caused Arric to believe in both of those "lies" yet know them for lies at the same time. The sun had long since gone yet torches had been lit exactly at sundown by the magisters and still the night was dim, nearly too dark to make out the newliweds, even Kailin and her bright, white gown. Try as he might to see through the dark and strain to hear through the quiet, no amount of willing resolved the scene into anything but chill and shadows. And then, all was clear. Behind the ministers but clearly in front of their Majesties, standing directly before the bride and groom were two, exceptionally tall, alabaster beings clad only in long purple cloths that hung from their shoulders. On the right, in front of Kailin, was the taller of the two, the one whose bearing suggested he was the master of the situation. On the left, in front of Peloran, was the shorter assistant, holding a book in his hands. After a moment of silence, the shorter one spoke the ritual words, "Bring forth the Surrogate!" The words rang strongly over the gathered, rich and deep and reverberating. A great stir in the background saw a young girl walk forth, dressed from head to toe in white with her hands raised over her belly. Two feet from the newly married, she knelt and bowed her head, speaking words though none could hear. This time, the taller of the Messengers moved, placing one hand over the head of the girl and stretching the other hand toward Kailing and Peloran. A moment of silence filled the entire pavillion as though everyone held their breath all at the same moment but as the Messenger raised his hands high, the entire congregation let go a sigh of relief. "The Pact is fulfilled!" said he, his tone filled with gratification, "May the Cresaon continue their benevolent Watch until the next Test." A great flare of light filled the Pavillion and when eyesight returned, both messengers and their summoned surrogate had disappeared from view completely. Sitting back with a sigh, Arric crossed his arms over his chest. At the age of twelve, all he could think to do was nudge his Nan and whisper, "They're coming back, right?" ***** In the year 1242... Night's darkest hour descended on Escenti Keep, deep in the Barachan Mountains. In the highest tower window, peering across the snow-swept peaks was Lord Ohad, the younger, Santeap. His golden eyes casually moved in a side-to-side pattern, his gaze devouring the cold country that embodied his domain. Scrub plants, bare trees and hibernating animals were his subjects, the frigid slopes his only audience. Not even the hardiest of individuals would dare the climate of the highest peaks during the frozen seasons and so, besides the small servant staff, Lord Ohad found himself quite alone in the dark of the night. Contrary to the exterior clime, the interior of the keep was furnished as only befitted a prince of the royal empire. As Lord Santeap was such a prince, the plethora of velvets and damasks used widely in the keep belied that fact, even though he hardly wore the golden circlet of his office. Gold adornments and filigree accented every lamp, cupboard and table, every towel, robe and cloth. Every stitch of furniture was handcrafted, built to the highest, most personal specifications of Lord Ohad himself though his visitors were infrequent at best. Often it was said that Escenti Keep might contain the height of fashion in any given year if only it were looked upon by human eye. "Excuse me, m'lord?" came a voice in hushed tones, whispers twined with trepidation. Santeap inwardly startled himself from his reverie, forcing a tight control over his body so as not to twitch even the smallest of muscles. With a graceful turn, head tipped to the side in a perfectly-calculated movement, he waved the pinky finger of his right hand while moving his left hand up in a gesture of greeting. And in that moment, the world held its breath. The flames in the sconces paused mid-wave, a flying insect hovered as if netted, and the wind no longer rustled the bedsheets. Santeap's eyes glowed briefly, flashing hot orange as he contemplated the servant girl in the doorway to his chambers. Her cinnamon brown hair, dyed in the same shade as the rest of the staff, was poised precisely on top of her head, netted in the blood red snood that every one of his servant girls wore, a single curl escaping just in the moment, teasing her eyebrow. With teeth worrying her bottom lip, she was the picture of innocent necessity, one hand hovering over her bosom, the other hand bracing her against the doorjam. The simple peacock-blue smock that covered her from head to toe hinted at the first curves of budding womanhood and it made Santeap smile viciously as he tread toward her on silent, bare feet, knowing that nothing would ever blossom on her barren plain. No one wore any kind of shoes in the Keep at his declaration. Though the floors were chiseled stone, his swollen magics made them warm as heated sand. Indeed, his magics were more than enough to sense the lifeforce of all his servants, where they were, what they were doing... who they were doing it with. A snap of his fingers brought the girl back from her momentary exile as he strode toward her with all traces of his grin erased. "What is it? I gave express orders to be left alone this eve. I need to purify this room and now I must start anew because of your intrusion!" Drawing himself up to his full height, allowing the golden robes that overlaid his peacock gown to glow in the soft candlelight, he swept a cinnabar tress back from his midnight eyes and let his gaze bear down on the servant without remorse. "What have you to say, then, miss?" An audible swallow penetrated the sudden silence of the room as the girl dipped as low a curtsy as possible without falling over herself. "M'lord... I... you said as soon as m'lass Nahura arrived... I... we...." Though her voice was but a whisper, her terror was so clear it caused Santeap to shudder with undefined pleasure. "Why, now..." purred Lord Ohad, "Surely you could have said as such early on and spared yourself such.... such a fright." His ample lips curved into a self-righteous sneer that permeated his tone though he knew the girl would never look directly at him, especially not now that she'd incurred his displeasure. "Get yourself to the kitchen, lass. Tell Master Ushon that you may have a hot tea to soothe your nerves..." he smiled down on her as she sighed in relief, "And then report to Maister Ivon for your punishment on disturbing me needlessly without being brief." A laugh threatened to bubble forth as he watched the tensing of her spine and heard the almost-inaudible cry that escaped her lips but he withheld, elevating his voice into a yell, "Go, now. Should I see you again these next few suns, you will be whipped in front of them." And with a drop of his voice to a bare whisper, he added, "In front of them all." Turning on his heel, Lord Santeap was quite sure the girl disappeared into thin air. With not another thought on her, he turned back to purifying the room which would house his newest and only guest, a young lady by all counts with a severe temper in need of curbing, Nahura Ohad, his sole niece. She would be with him until the end of her training as a magister, then capable of succeeding her father, Lord Rahaed Ohad, as high priestess of the Realm of Djalii. Santeap's smile completely disappeared at thought of his brother. It was on Rahaed's whim that he was exiled here. It was on Rahaed's whim that he practice only magic and have no temptations besides. It was on Rahaed's whim that Santeap, Lord of Escenti Keep alone should teach the princessa all magic as befitting her status. And it was on Rahaed's whim that Santeap would live for as long as that whole process should take. Shaking his head, Santeap let out a long sigh. It had been many years since he had been exiled to the Barren Keep, Escenti, but not a day of that time had been wasted. Though he may have castrated servants and eunuch guards, Santeap had found higher planes of existence to soothe his sore nerves, to channel his sexuality into something productive. Now, after nearly a decade and a half, Rahaed had finally played the only hand Santeap could not control and so Nahura was on her way, a maid of just past a decad and a half and a half and it was finally time for Santeap, Lord Ohad of Escenti Keep, Exile to the Barren Kingdom to ingratiate himself back into his brother's domain and make his mark on the world. *****

You were born on a Monday. Your star sign is Leo. The season was Summer. You are 28 years, 0 months, 1 day old. It is 364 days until your next Birthday. You are 10,228 days old. You are approximately 245,479 hours old. You are approximately 883,725,568 seconds old. Go Leo! Rawr!!! :]

Awww... thanks guys! -BIG HUGS- to Rev and Sweet :} I've been much absent of late, mostly because of work and a lack of inspiration. I hope to be around more. Yay for TMP.Net! :}

As to the first, maybe take out the first "as" and simply have: Stand firmly, as you Regarding the last stanza, I agree that the construction feels off. It isn't wrong, necessarily, but it feels loose where the rest of the poem is far more tight. I think a re-write of the first line in that stanza would go a long way toward tightening the stanza as a whole and solidifying the ending. One suggestion I might offer is: So now I only thank you This removes the "And so" as well as the "can" which seems unneeded for the feeling being conveyed. Just a few thoughts. As usual, though, Rev, some exceptional work. I look forward to more, once again! Tav

This is the sound of my jaw dropping... I.. no, I don't have access to any of the other boards beyond the general ones. Wow, well, um. Speechless twice in one week. That's gotta be a new record. I guess I'll do the editting on my end and .... post later? Thanks for the heads-up Kat. -stunned- Tav

I've started and stopped and started this post about five times over, so I'll just get to the point: Wow. I'm stymied. Thank you for ... well, reading my ridiculously long entry, to begin with. I remember posting it, wincing over how long it was going to take to pour through. I almost didn't post! But I'm glad I did, because now I have a finished piece and some wonderful edits to make (thanks to some great feedback!). Thanks, also, to everyone who read and contributed and... and.... and I'm running off at the fingers. Anywho, I'll be sure to post a re-draft, when ever I get the chance to hack up the original. -takes a deep breath- Thanks again, to all! Tav