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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

Writing Exercise - Pentacle of Poetry?


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Hmm, here's another interesting little idea of mine, in celebration of the return of Archmage.

 

Here's how it goes, in a very M:tGish kind of way, pick a color and write using that color.

 

Here's the twist tho, look at the color wheel.

 

White-Green-Red-Black-Blue-White

 

'Friendly' colors are the ones directly next to your chosen color in the color wheel.

 

IE: White is your chosen color - Green and Blue are your friendly colors. Black is your chosen color - Blue and Red are your friendly colors.

 

'Enemy' colors are the two directly across from you on the color wheel, or the ones that are 2 or 3 spots away in either direction. Basically the colors that aren't adjacent to yours.

 

IE: Blue is your chosen color, Red and Green are your Enemy colors. Green is chosen - Black and Blue are your enemy colors.

 

In your poem, write making your friendly colors seem good and the enemy colors seem horrid - symbolism is important as always. Legions of the undead can represent black, Angels can represent white, etc etc, or you can use actual colors, just let your imagination run with it!

 

This is actually more Magic-the-gathering-oriented than I wanted, but use your imagination, just keep in mind the different colors and you'll do find.

 

 

Have fun!

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Great challenge! This one was hard, but I loved having a go, ty!

 

Natural Battle

 

Fire feeds, a big relentless appetite that needs little persuasion

Such an all consuming thing could not be good, no?

Oh but yes, for all who see her marvel at the dances she performs

And disappear with her movement in their own eyes.

 

Lavish branches of lush, perfectly formed leaves willingly die for her

Feeding themselves to her will for her to prosper

Sacrificing themselves on her flames, to wither away in seconds

After years of coaxing by Fire’s mother, the sun

 

Even as she sleeps, fire still breathes a low breath, hidden from her hunters

The cover of dark ash provides her place of rest

None but very few can see her waiting here, for one more chance to feed

While her cover seeps through earth to complete the ring

 

Those envious of her beauty, try to quell her feeding from the earth

They encompass her with their droplets of wet death

But alone they too are consumed by her might, needing to form armies

To even begin to challenge her strength and pow’r

 

They call in aid from up above, sun’s own enemies turn on her child

Relentlessly showering the struggling kin

Her heart fights on, taking them each in turn, but so many start to fall

A blanket of ice steals her final gasping breath

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Clicking fast reply, he replies quickly...

 

Verdant green, sweet and clean, Nature's true delight.

Ascendant's Choir, Holy Fire, defending what is right.

Firey Eradication, Dragonic proclamation, always ready for the fight.

Magic's child, Phantasm's wild, dour wishes and peeping mage sight.

Nether's Cruel, Devil's fool, blood-thirsty altars and withered land's plight.

 

Red, Green and White are (almost but not quite) the paths to trod

While icky Black and Blue, bruising foul two, fit one to feed the sod.

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Healing powers, the daylight hours, the forces of the light.

Though often scorned by those "unworthy fools".

Brought back from death, devoid of breath, the warriors of the night.

Such dark enchantments also make good tools.

 

The swarming bugs, the ugly mugs of craw wurms... and the trees!

The plagues of elves, and druids, and all their kind...

No better are the goblins and the ogres, a disease

infesting every mountain that they find.

 

But Magic is the one true art. Enchantments, mystic spells,

and creatures of the deep seas and the air.

The Angels of the Heavens and the Demons of the Hells

alike are allies of our silken snare.

 

(Yes, Silken Snare is the title of a book of some sort... but it fit perfectly. I've never read the book, anyway...)

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