reverie Posted December 23, 2002 Report Share Posted December 23, 2002 Hiya... in the spirit of the Eggnog i'm drinking and all things December related... I invite all to write a Seasonal Poem/Scene/Story... sharing a slice of what this time of year means to you... I.E. X-mas, hannaca(sp?), Quanza, Soltice, 3 kings, Festivous, 'No one else is working so let's go to the movies week', Merrits of Football vs Hockey season and/or the bitter war brewing btw the skiing and snow boarding community at large..., too much pressure? okay... then just write about the brrrrrrrr, cold... To start off, i offer as example my x-mas poem from last year... will try to write another one soon, well if i can ever get that dar williams pagan song out of my head...(taps foot..) Christmastime, Another day, as it is known Takes time to sparkle all it’s own And lonely ones shed tears no more As loved one’s knock upon your door. When calls are made, old friends remember They’re not forgotten in cold December In a rush, no time for thought Hearts are warmed, kind words are bought Sent many miles, with gifts that say I remembered you, will you remember me? As smiles turn inward one can reflect It’s Christmastime, do not forget To wish all well that you hold dear And fill them all with you good cheer… Merry X-mas Yea! well what are you waiting for? have at it ppl... revery the dreamlost "must, get, need, want, now!" the dream continues... Edited by: reverie at: 12/22/02 10:50:44 pm Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Vlad Posted December 23, 2002 Report Share Posted December 23, 2002 Its Hannukah, and Kwanza. anyhoo... Hannukah, 8 days of cash. I get rich for being lazy, Screw your ghosts of chistmas, It pays to be a scrooge. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Peredhil Posted December 23, 2002 Report Share Posted December 23, 2002 Christmas was such a wonder... Drinking eggnog the night before, staying up an hour later 'cause it wasn't a school night - but making sure to be in bed before midnight. And EARLY the next morning, creeping out just at dawn, looking to see what lay in the stocking (or the stocking lay on in case of an overlarge item). It wasn't for years that I noticed the stocking items were all attention engaging and silent. Waiting for Mom and Dad to get up. The year our eldest brother led us in the Christmas prayer (Our Parents, Who art in bed - Hollered be thy name! Christmas is come! Ribbons to be undone: Under the tree as well on the skirting! (As I recall Dad appeared, blurry eyed, and the start of the day was almost delayed wrathfully - but Mom came out and interceded. Mercy always comes through intercession.)) Starting off the day with the birthday cake, singing happy birthday to Jesus (a coupla thou' and looking good), then 'cause he wasn't Down Here, giving presents to each other in His name. Funny how that magic has faded through the years... -P We do not write because we want to; we write because we have to. W. Somerset Maugham Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest Rhapsody Posted December 24, 2002 Report Share Posted December 24, 2002 In a writing mood, so I'll try to spin off a limerick or two. Snowmen built with glee Icy glazes on Christmas trees Winter, we're told is all about cold But in Texas; its still 80 degrees!! Christmas Eve, snug in bed Sugar plums dancing in our heads A time for giving A time for living When Santa arrives in his sled! And for good measure, a haiku: Winter night, lighted Candles of hope on silent rooftops, star-mirror Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
The Big Pointy One Posted December 24, 2002 Report Share Posted December 24, 2002 Christmas Haiku? I think so! Decorate the pine Tinsel and blinking stringlights Presents wrapped with love Happy holidays Nice big family dinners Delicious free treats Peace on earth and stuff All that friendly christmas jazz Happy holidays To each and everyone... ^.^ (I am so lame ) BigPointyStick -------------- Newly appointed page, and proud of it! The Trenchcoat Monk Wielder of the BPS Companion of Mr.Bunny Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Gyrfalcon Posted December 25, 2002 Report Share Posted December 25, 2002 The Night Before Christmas (Pen's version) Adapted from 'The Night Before Christmas' by Clement Clark Moore 'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the Pen Not a creature was stirring, not even the purple fuzzies; The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, Wyvern’s large enough to fit a giant with room to spare, In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there; (Given the weight of presents, I hoped he would take care For under such strain he might throw out his back And the rest of the world would feel his lack) The Penners were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads; And my werefox friend in his Santa hat, and I in my cape, Had just settled down for a long winter's nap, When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter. Perhaps Kokuryuu crashlanded after too much eggnog? Or perhaps she had trouble navigating the fog? Away to the window I flew like a flash, Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow (How’d that get there? forty-three was supposed to be the low. Shoddy weather forecasters, though I shouldn’t disparage Foe.) Gave the luster of mid-day to objects below, When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny dwarves dressed as reindeer. With a little old driver, so lively and quick, I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick. More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name; "Now, Silly! Now, Shiny! Now, Idly and Wacky! On, Grouchy! On Greedy! On, Sexy and Courtesy! To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall! Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!" As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky, Such a valient, scrambling try No doubt was aided by the way he used that whip, I know I’d run faster rather then give him lip) So up to the house-top the coursers they flew, With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too. And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof The prancing and pawing of each little boot. As I drew in my hand and slid down the stairs, faster then on foot, Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound. He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot, And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot; A bundle of toys he had flung on his back, And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack. His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry! His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry! His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow; The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath; (Though I noted he had an awful cough- Perhaps the trip had been a bit rough?) He had a broad face and a little round belly, That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly. Then realization hit me, as he drained the sherry, His ears were pasted on- he was no fairy! When I looked at his stomach, I saw a pillow peeking out this imposter was no Santa- he was just a common lout! I looked closer, and sighed as I saw through the stuck-on beard that it was Brute who had come as Santa- how weird! “Brute,” I said with a sigh, “There’s no need to hide Who you are- and besides, we would not have denied you a drink on Christmas Eve.” Brute looked abashed as he wiped his mouth and then his eyes gleamed he spoke then and said “My dear friend, this is no sudden fling meant to earn me a single drink! No, you see Santa had to subcontract out his position this year for several places, and I made the pact to be the Santa for the Pen this year. So don’t you fear! Santa is here, never fear! Now excuse me while I go have a beer.” A few tankards later, he sat back with a belch. “Well, those were good, but I suppose I shouldn’t welsh. and so he stood up and looked around before picking up the bag as if it weighed a thousand pounds. He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk, And laying his finger aside of his nose, And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose; He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, And away they all flew like the down of a thistle. But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight, And shortly thereafter, right into the ground, For dwarves are not noted for being found Capable of flying, "Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-niiiiiiiig-!" Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Peredhil Posted December 25, 2002 Report Share Posted December 25, 2002 Brilliant Gyrfalcon... just brilliant. hugs tips his hat to Brute and the rest. We do not write because we want to; we write because we have to. W. Somerset Maugham Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Gyrfalcon Posted December 25, 2002 Report Share Posted December 25, 2002 Gyrfalcon smiles and accepts the hug. "Thank you Brute and Peredhil." he says with a smile. Turning to the rest of the Pen, the half-elf bows and then plops a santa hat on his head. "Merry Christmas, all!" Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest Brute3 Posted December 25, 2002 Report Share Posted December 25, 2002 Chuckling at Gyrfalcon's witty version of the classic poem, Brute sets down his tankard of ale and adjusts the Santa hat atop his pale and bald head. I'd like to add a bit to this thread. My addition won't be a story, nor will it be a rhyming verse (for that talent is quite lacking in me), but instead, I'd like to simply tell you friends what Christmas means to me. It is a magical time. Everywhere you look, evidence of this can be found. When I say this, I mean look past the commercial aspect of the season. People seem a little happier, children's faces light up, realtives and friends gather together. Every year, I create a bit of that magic for my kids. I stay up late, arranging presents that Santa delivered (unwrapped, of course). It may sound a bit cliche, but somehow, every Christmas morning, the kids are amazed. They believe that Santa came, and that is magic to them. It doesn't just apply to the kids, though. We all enjoy the day together. We cook, we play games, watch the old familiar Christmas shows on the TV, call friends and family too far away to visit, and we simply enjoy each other and feel truly blessed that we are able to spend time together. That is magic in my eyes. Even when I was far away from my family in the service, one Christmas I spent with a friend turned out to be an exceptional one. His family took me out to eat, invited me to their home, and turned what looked to be a bleak holiday into a memorable one. That was magic. Anyway. It's late and Santa's subcontracted help has other stops. Wyvern's list is a mile long and he probably doesn't deserve half of it..... Brute picks his ale back up and finishes it in a gulp, then begins shouting at the dwarves as he climbs into the sleigh. "The next one who makes a comment about my weight gets a lump of coal where the sun don't shine! Now shuttup and RUN!" Brute O Drunken One Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Falcon2001 Posted December 26, 2002 Report Share Posted December 26, 2002 Bah, looks like I'm not the first one to do a night before christmas parody. Here goes mine, another pen-spawned one. Ibanez is a guitar manufacturer btw. Take that back, this is a very Falcon christmas. Yes, Demon and Lemon rhyme. 'Twas the night before christmas and all through the hall Not a creature was stirring, be they large or they small Some crosses were hung by the mantle with care In hopes that Cioden wouldn't stop there. Falcon was nestled all snug in his bed Whilst visions of Ibanez danced in his head And with me in my white cloak On the couch in the back Just settlin' down for a long winter's nap When from the roof there arose such a splatter I leapt from my couch to see what was the matter Away to my sheathed sword I tore like a flash Took it out of the sheath and then cut the gold sash (Rachel wanted it on there, she thought it looked cute Though a sword is for slashing, so I gave it the boot) The moon on the top of the new-summoned snow Gave the shinyness of noonday to the objects below (Falcon wanted some sugar, so he cast quite the spell But he misread khazak, though it ended up well) When what to my icy blue eyes should appear But a huge freaking sleigh and eight giant demon steer With a creepy-looking driver, like a black-feathered wren I knew in a moment it had to be Cioden A bit slower than canaries his coursers came And he whistled, and cursed, and called them a lot of names. "Now Smasher! Now Crasher! Now Flatfoot and Nixon! On Meteo, on Stupid! On Fondle and Kitchen!" As dry leaves before Aero 3 fly When he met with an obstacle, blow it into the sky! So up to the tower-top the coursers they flew With the sleigh full of nasties, and Cioden too. And then, in an hour, I heard on the roof The growling and pawing of each cloven hoof As I drew back my bow I turned quickly 'round Down the chimney St. Cioden came with a sound He was dressed all in leather from his head to his foot And his clothing was covered in blood and in soot A bundle of spells he has slung on his back And something was oozing right out of the sack His hair was all slicked back with the blood of a demon And he looked like a used-car salesman peddling a lemon His eyes - how they glinted! His dimples - nonexistant! His cheeks were like caverns, his nose a frostbitten tint! His grim little mouth was tied down like a bow And the beard on his chin was the color of crow A silvered dagger he held tight in his teeth And the odor of madness surrounded him in a wreath He had a thin face and absolutely no belly Covered by a shirt that was just a tad smelly He was gruesome and cruel, a right nutty old elf And I fired when I saw him, in spite of myself A wink of his eye and a twist of his head He avoided the arrow, sent to make him dead He spoke not a word, but went right to work And emptied all the stockings, he was such a jerk And laying his middle finger aside of his nose He cast fire3 and on the updraft he rose He fell in his sleigh and gave his team quite a whistle And away they all flew before I flayed them with thistles But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he flew out of sight "I'll get you Azunost, some other night!" Quicker than lightning I threw the stockings out the window And ducked as they exploded in a moonlit twinkle I fixed some hot cocoa and woke up Falcon Who downed the whole mug before I was done Telling him 'bout the big scare we had had His eyes widened "Wow, Cioden's sure bad." I grinned rather slyly and gave him a wink "He's not the only one who can raise a stink" I sat back in my seat with a satisfied grin And scratched idly at the stubble grown on my chin. From far away there came a muffled thud Like Flare being cast in a puddle of mud I smiled benignly and looked at the switch in my hand And thought of the scheme I had carefully planned Involving a Holy Bomb, three ducks and a tin can A roll of duct-tape and a good dental plan Now Cioden was routed and Falcon asleep I could settle down once more to the peaceful deep. But I thought to myself 'ere I turned out the light "Merry christmas to all, and to all a good night." Cioden Darkeye Quill-Bearer - The Pen is Mightier than the Sword Owner of the Reply Raven - Enemy to all those who never post responses "Oh my God, I'm LEAKING POETRY!" Edited by: peredhil31 at: 12/26/02 7:16:33 am Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest Carlyan the Wise Posted December 26, 2002 Report Share Posted December 26, 2002 Well, I know it's past Christmas, and this doesn't really go along with Christmas except for the tune, but I thought I'd share my vision of #thepen in the quiet hours... it was written with a light heart, and i hope you enjoy! Carlyan sings an "Idle song" Carlyan: Idling at the pen Carlyan: in a run-down, silent room. Carlyan: Oh, the things they do-- Carlyan: They can't work and talk too! Carlyan: Bells on Q's beard ring, Carlyan: Making spirits quiet Carlyan: Oh what fun it is to be Carlyan: Here but also silent! Carlyan: Oh, idling, idling, idle all the way-- Carlyan: The only thing that you can't do is have something to say! Carlyan: Hey! (To the tune of "Jingle Bells", in case you hadn't gotten that) Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
reverie Posted December 27, 2002 Author Report Share Posted December 27, 2002 thanx for all the show up... really nice stuff guys... sorry still couldn't manage to work out a new x-mas poem, but did manage to drive a grand total of 15 hours over the holidays go me! am exhauted am going back to bed... happy christmas and merry new year....*sputter, sputter, stumble...* revery the dreamlost "bed, goooooooood" the dream continues... Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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