Guest Foe Calibur Posted August 1, 2001 Report Share Posted August 1, 2001 Abroad, to thee, within thine hallowed bounds, I travel near and far, the road of hope, For fear entrails my every solemn movement. "I fight my fear in name of hope, The hope that I should win, For fear I do, I shall fall short, Of hope amidst the din." Akin to loves omnipresent reign I move, With shrubbery in hand, whos name it bears. Enscribed with care the lonely letter 'Z'. A bard at heart I venture forth, through odds Of every sort. Reminding myself of what, though small, it is I do upon this path. In reminding I think again of love, Of sorrow alike, I start to recite a poem, A poem which I hold dear: "A virtue guided by that which guides abroad, A kindred boon sanctioned within ones heart, A burning fire deep within ones soul, A force liable 'ere, grave lovers sin. Afflicted, ever more, thus potent creations joy, To trouble thy soul, to hinder thy judgment true. Thine own grim life hindered by thy travesty, Yet burdened naught through adversity. To live this life, through chords of tethered bane, Endorsed by that which endures thine hardship true, Shall seek, through passion, the sinful demise of chastity. Though chaste I may not, thy loves heresy shall. Scant a woven thread besieged betwixt Thine heartfelt boon, and love within shall fly, For fly it does, upon thy velvet sky." A maiden soft, upon her bed doth lie, Thinking for thoughts purpose, of love's power. Her words speak true, of one lone branch's reach, But on this tree there lies another, a branch, A knotted, writhing sap filled wretched thing. Its reach, though short, pries apart her chamber doors, And stirs about her buoyant thought with words, “Turmoil through hatred, a rivals worst sin, Through malice, hence loathing, a joyous loves detest. Hatred is as winged creatures fly, Such dire vice seeping from their envious soar, To drip upon thou sinless soul ‘ere rid, Through fear, it’s innocence ‘ere more. This innocence, held affections true grace, Unhindered be chastity’s reign, upon your lap This sanct’ful thing bequest thine fathered bliss.” A tear she shed upon these baneful words, Did land atop her sheet, yet another Branch of love, in loves own conscious deceit. “’Ere among thine love forsaken allies, About thy knees in sorrow’s ill shed tears, Corps of love, abandoned naught, by loves Own sentient will, but destructed, Hence, upon deaths mark resides. This dire affection watered by loves cry, Sired akin, its blissful prayer, sheds A tear upon Variance, for after all, Through tears of joy, our world grins with jest, Through tears of morn, our world cries unchecked, Through tears of hope our world endeavors to breathe, In seas of tears our world strives to be.” The Lass upon her bed did cry, though Not of sadness, and not of hope, instead, She cried for those, whose tender words had spoken, A truth beyond truths of loves omnipresent will. “I see,” she spoke, “Loves only corpses stand Within the grave of sorrow’s morbid tears.” I walk in amidst the throng of friendly poets and literary masters, for the building I now stand in must be the edifice of The Pen. Placing the shrubbery upon the draconic creatures desk I ask for admitance in the name whos plant I bear, "Good day to you M'Lord." I stop a moment to bend at the waist slightly before continuing, "I stand before you this day to offer my services and words to you galleries." That done I stand static searching for a reply in the creatures reptilian eyes. Edited by: Foe Calibur at: 8/10/01 12:53:18 am Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
The Portrait of Zool Posted August 10, 2001 Report Share Posted August 10, 2001 A thunderous echoing arena sized applause fades in from all around, nearly deafening Foe for a while, and then slowly fades back the way it came. ~Zool~ Elder of Elders, The Pen is Mightier than the Sword. Bard of Terra, Patron Saint of Aspiring Bards. Elder than dirt, more foolish than a jester, able to trip over the smallest logic in a single step. It's... Oh, you know. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Wyvern Posted August 11, 2001 Report Share Posted August 11, 2001 Foe Calibur had been waiting for a number of weeks in Wyvern's office, but still the overgrown lizard had yet to show his face... Foe was beginning to get rather impatient. The secretary at Wyvern's desk had told him to relax himself and to be prepared to wait for quite a while. When Wyvern went on a lunch break, he was liable be absent for around two years... Foe Calibur is about to leave the office in a fury when Wyvern strides in. He is dressed in a barrel full of monkies, and nothing else. "What...?" starts Foe Calibur. "Don't ask." sighs Wyvern, sitting back in his desk chair and picking up Foe Calibur's application as if Wyv had never left the office. "Now then... let's look over your application, shall we?" Wyvern skims through the papers and perks up when he notices that there is a mentioning of both "A maiden soft, upon her bed doth lie" AND "Upon its Crystal tides". Women and money. Wyvern could get to like this guy... "Well Foe... I'll let you in on when condition: tell me where these 'Crystal Tides' are." Wyvern grins evily. "WYVERN!" calls Jechum from a room adjacent "Are you bullying the applicants again?!" Wyvern sighs and stamps Foe Calibur's application as 'ACCEPTED INITIATE', calling back to the adjacent room "I don't get no respect!" OOC: Accepted as an Initiate. Welcome Foe Calibur. Sorry about my lateness... post some more stuff on the public Pen boards, and the other Elders will promote you to page and send you the pass. ------------------------------ Almost a Dragon... "I'll put it in lamer terms: If you came to learn how to make fire, COME I'LL MAKE YOU BURN!" -Big Pun, R.I.P Owner of the Decanter of Endless Booze. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest Foe Calibur Posted August 14, 2001 Report Share Posted August 14, 2001 "Surely you jest my friend, these Tides I speak of... are my guild." I bend slightly at the waist in a gesture of humbling, smiling gently all the while. "... And the lady... she is naught but my dreams good sir. A figment of my imagination to add emotion to the poem you have beheld." Smiling widely by now I sauntered swifty to Wyvern's desk, "And thank you, M'Lord, for your acception. I try to please with my writings, I strive to impress throughout them... though I worry sometimes." My features bore a shadow of concern. "Alas... I do what I can," I hit the desk lightly at this, "And can only pray that it pleases those who endure it's story." Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Recommended Posts