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Showing results for tags 'Poems'.
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I originally inteded to write several of these and post them in an epic. But seeing how much effor it took to make them, I stopped at two. I now present you with two poems that I wrote some time ago. Funnybones I very much regret to say,That Vezon has died today.While laughing he did pass away,With the dead he’s gone to stay.‘Why’d he die?’ you have to ask,To explain won’t be an easy taskPerhaps he saw a funny mask,Or drank too much from a rotted cask.In life he liked to joke around,His laughter was a common sound,So then no one it will astound,We buried him above the ground.Vezon’s bones lie in a tomb,Drying out while in the gloom,While laughing brought him to his doom,He will not stop, we all assume.At midnight in the cemetery,It won’t be quiet; quite contrary.For Vezon’s funny commentaryIs keeping all the corpses merry! Rotten For most of her life, Roodaka felt well;Then she noticed a peculiar smellA stench of rot, decay, and deathCame wafting out upon her breath.In a few days time, Roodaka fell ill,She was in such pain she thought it would kill,So horribly her stomach ached,As though with claws it had been raked.In hurried panic, a doctor she soughtIn hopes that her malady could be foughtThe doctor came that night from townAnd sat the poor Roodaka down.The doctor examined but found nothing,Roodaka pleaded “It must be something!I cannot bear this stench and pain,Please won’t you look at me again?”The doctor sighed and gave into her plea,He looked and looked, but nothing he could see,He said at last, “I think I know,Why your body is aching so.”“You’ve lied for so long, they’ve built up inside,And they’ve become spoiled and putrefied,I fear there’s nothing I can do,And so I bid adieu to you.”The once splendid Vortixx was terrified,In fear she ran up to her room and cried,Her innards were ablaze with pain,And she began to weep again.And the next morning, Roodaka awoke,She was surprised she had yet to croak,She looked into her dressing mirror,And let out a shriek of pure fear.Her beautiful skin was all rotted and dry,Worms writhed in her hair and gnawed ’round her eyes,Rancid blood came out in a stream,As she opened her mouth and screamed.She clutched at her heart, the small withered thing,Which beat like a bird with a broken wing,Then something gave, and her heart stopped,And to the floor Roodaka dropped.Roodaka’s dead and decomposing,To her funeral though, no one’s going,For what no one had forgotten,Roodaka was really rotten.
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You check the address. It's correct: 142 carved on the doorframe. A set of wind chimes sway by the door, blinking in the evening sun.You pick up the muaka-shaped knocker and give it a few taps. After a few seconds, you can hear movement behind the door. With a groan, it opens. A tired looking, spotless Le-matoran stands in the doorway, blinking at you. "I suppose you're here to see Miss Yukiko. Come in." You step into a tight hallway. Wall sconces cast a soft light on the scene around you. As you follow the Le-matoran, you catch sight of sets of paintings on the walls by some of the city's artists. They're not originals, but very good copies and obviously well maintained. The Le-matoran finally comes to a closed door at the end of the hall. He knocks. No response. When another, harder knock fails to elicit a reaction, he opens the door, ignoring the DO NOT DISTURB sign. "Someone to see you, miss." "Tell them to GO AWAY, Rekki." "Are you sure, miss. They appear to be from the pub-" "AAAAh!!"You can hear a frantic shuffling of paper. "Why didn't you tell me that earlier?!" Rekki steps aside and motions for you to go in. The second you step inside, you are assaulted with papers flying everywhichway, clearly controlled by some sort elemental power. "Where are-AHA!" The papers abruptly settle, and you can finally see the speaker. She can't be more than a bio tall, and her green eyes are intensely fixed on your feet. She hands you a very clean looking manilla envelope, her eyes flickering up to meet yours momentarily. "Um...so...if you would please...ah...look at them in the sitting room? I'm kind of...busy right now..." "Of course," you say, smiling, as she practically leaps back to her desk. Rekki shows you to the sitting room. It is cozy space, home to several bookshelves stuffed to bursting with novels and story collections featuring artists from all around the city. You choose one of the firm leather chairs and turn the light on, opening the envelope. You take the first page out, and it shines crisp and white in your hand. Short Stories What We Become Genre: Dark Summary: For the Story Fit Project, on the theme "transformation". The first in the short story series Those Who Burn. What We Destroy Genre: Dark Summary: Hahli finds herself in a strange place. The second in the short story series Those Who Burn. What We Create Genre: Dark Summary: Nuparu needs to convince someone that he can still build something. The third in the short story series Those Who Burn. Too Early Genre: Angst, Friendship, Romance Summary: Goodbyes are hard, and Takanuva can only tell one person before he leaves, with no assurance that he will every come back. Confessions Genre: Romance/Dark, Songfic Song: Take Your Place by Alejandro Escovedo. Summary: Short Story Contest 5 (Romance) entry. Jaller and Hahli have a talk about the secrets they've kept from each other. A Strange Tapestry Genre: Angst/Dark Summary: Jaller has to deal with a voice that has been haunting his dreams for some time. Lyric Poetry Sing a Song of Days Long Past Genre: Miscellaneous Summary: A full lyric tour of Bionicle, 2001-2008. Third place in the text-based section of the time capsule contest. Shock Me to Life Genre: Romance/Dark Summary: A desperate love song set against the background of 2006. Possible JallerxHahli. Prose Poetry Still Swimming Genre: Romance/Dark Summary: A portrait of love in a time of darkness. HewkixMacku. Free Verse Begin Genre: Miscellaneous Summary: My thoughts on the end of Bionicle. Thoughts Before the Storm Genre: Angst Summary: Malum character study. Hesitation Genre: Dark Summary: Lessovikk contemplates the one slip that changed everything.