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Message: <blockquote data-quote="sawyer0413" data-source="post: 501674" data-attributes="member: 6238">My EntryT’was the night before GenCon, and all through the house.Oh God not this poem, it’s really a louse.I can’t win this contest, with rhyme that’s so lame.Cause surely the others, have used verse the same.So I’ll change this poem, its rhyme and its beat,Or else my submission, will just garner heat.So it’s not about dice, nor dragons, nor booty.It’s not about roleplaying those who are snooty.It’s not about killing, or maiming, or dieing.Or having a Rogue who is so good at lying.It’s not about searching, or roving, or spying.It’s not about crafting, professions, rope tieing.It is about something that’s our favorite thing.About which we talk with such marvelous zing.We endlessly talk, and debate, and we squabble.About every thing, every knick-knack, and bauble.We talk about rules as if they existed.Even the small ones are used and are twisted.We endlessly chat about this thing or that.We wonder what magic is stored in a hat.We swashbuckle, hornswaggle, giggle and trade.We have great adventures, it is no charade.We rescue the helpless, the weak and the poor.And take down the evil, the vile, and more.What is it? Why is it? How does it fly?That can’t be a dragon, my levels not high.Oh God! Oh Dear God! Oh Please God! We pray.If one more twenty could just come my way.We slay it. It slays us. We both die. No matter.Cause we are the mighty, with great words to flatter.We crawl, and we slither, and dwelve even deeper.We hope that we meet just the pet, not its keeper.We find the great treasures, no matter their site.And just hope to gain it, with our skins on tight.For all our ambitions, our trials and power.Are just the fascade, not the plant but the flower.The bards sing our praises and common folk too.For we are the great ones, societal glue.We are the heroes, about which the storiesTell of our riches and battles and glories.We garner it all, and then even more.For when we are done they’ll label it lore.For all of this effort, the prep and the work.And sometimes feeling like I’m just a jerk.The good times, the bad times, the times in-between.The times when the play is just truly sureen.The times when the story is growing by bounds,Or the opposite times when its gone to the hounds.For all of those times, in the story we tell.The common events that make our pride swell.We all know that extra that just brings us back.That small little thing that allows us to hack.It’s using emotions, our heart, and our brain.Imagination just keeps us all sane.</blockquote>

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