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Statues of gold

Poem poetry

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2 replies to this topic

#1 Offline Kakaru

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Posted Nov 03 2012 - 09:55 PM

[9:04:23 PM] Cederak: You called it "blah blah poem."[9:04:28 PM] Kakaru: oh right yes[9:04:29 PM] Kakaru: yes I did

A familiar face under new maskLingering questions not to be askedThe friend I once had, now a legend of oldButterfly-catcher, in statue of goldOnce you were small, before this grand endNow I pause in my tracks to respect my old friendYour bright orange eyes and strong heartlight beatwere wasted on power, the allure of the heatWhen treetops swayed in the glittering sunwhen the deadliest urge was to learn how to runover dunes of shifting, rolling sandand to swim underwater, no pretense so grandas to claim ourselves the saviours of broken earthto give ourselves higher meaning or worthWe never asked for a destiny greator to wrestle with meanings of love and of hateWe simply laughed, and enjoyed our short livesfrom the lily-pads deep to the tunnels of hivesBut then the day came, unexpected and cruelto steal you away and embark on a duelagainst evil powers in fortresses darkTo stop, not kill, the great Toa's markThey gave you the stone as I looked on in horrorA light flashed, you screamed, and were simply no moreWhere once my friend stood on the engraved stonesstood a Toa I knew who must leave us, aloneHis armour was grand, polished and cleanHis eyes were dark, unfamiliar and meanand I knew that then, in the beat of a heartour peaceful lives would be torn apartYour capsule was sent off in fanfare and tearsand the silence was filled with the whirring of gearsAs the crowds left the docks and I stayed behindwatching the sky with one question in mind:Would anyone know you, once you arrivedas my friend who caught insects in derelict hives?Maybe you'd save them, train in your powersbut they'd never see you with hands full of flowersAs the days grew to years, my memories dulledand feelings of apathy, absence were culledOur lives went on as the bitter ache subsidedand no tales reached our ears of nations divideduntil the day your scarred canister cameinscribed upon it, a memory-soaked nameMy fingers brushed steel and the lid fell awayThe inside was cold, smooth and dark greyInside it, a body, decorated and grandA ceremony was held in far-distant landfor their great hero, defender of allMy friend, the Toa, had learned how to fallAs his mask is removed and heart laid to restothers will tell me this was for the bestHis death is an honour, they say, sad, with a smilebut the rocks are laid down on that unfeeling pileAnd as I gaze at that unfamiliar maskI can only think of one question to ask:does anyone know him, my friend of oldas anything more than a hero in gold?

Edited by Kakaru, Nov 05 2012 - 01:03 AM.

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hey it's Studio Comic

#2 Offline Chro

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Posted Nov 03 2012 - 10:04 PM

Wow. This is very nice. I feel as though it is describing a specific character, which I can't place, although it points towards an adventurous character such as Takua... But the poem is also ambiguous enough that it could be about anyone, and so it makes you create these characters in your head, which is excellent. For example, I have this idea of the subject being a Toa of Fire (allure of the heat) while the poem is narrater by his possibly Ga-Matoran friend.I also liked how you referenced Bionicle terms- mask, Toa, etc.- and they flowed into the poem without disrupting it. Other works I see are knocked off by the use of such terms, they end up seeming unfitting, but that problem is prevailingly gone here. All in all, it's refreshing to see some relevant poetry, haha. :lol:
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On 10/20/13, at 9:07 PM, Voltex wrote:
> I used to be a professional assassin
> Until I tried to kill Santa Claus
> But he caught me
> I was fired and Santa Claus has been hunting me down ever since

#3 Offline Oniaku

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Posted Nov 03 2012 - 10:39 PM

Alot of concurrence with the guy above me, good job Kakaru
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