Poetry entries for A Night of Love

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Magi_Nashira

Chaotic Lawkeeper
Done in her usual chicken-scratch way of writing are these words on parchment, posted to a new section of cork coard:


Please post your entries here for the poetry contest. Top three will be read during A Night of Love dance and the winner will be chosen by all present.

Nashira Tremont Dontella Kell
Rotunda Proprietor Dance/event coordinator

((OOC rules, Please post your poems and submissions to the Rotunda "A Night of Love" poetry contest here by March 1st. Top three poems will be chosen by the judges and they will be read at the dance, the winner to be chosen by those present.))
 

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fowai_uss

First Post
An expensive-looking sheet of parchment with flowing, slightly exotic script scribed upon it is tacked on the board.

Bjork the Orc

Rumors abound about Bjork the Orc,
Let me tell you those rumors are true.
This simple orc felled a mighty mage,
The mage known as Kalamazoo.

Kalamazoo was of the pompous sort,
Believing he was better than all.
He thought of himself as King of the World,
But that was before Bjork caused his fall..

This mighty mage overthrew the previous king,
And with an iron fist he ruled.
He claimed to be the legitimate royal heir,
But none in the kingdom was fooled.

Kalamazoo was of the tyrannical type,
The fulfillment of his every whim was law.
Many at first opposed his rule,
But they soon were devoured by a lion’s maw.

Many did fear this mage’s magical might,
So great that some gods feared him too.
But Bjork the Orc feared him not at all,
He alone dared to defy Kalamazoo.

Bjork didn’t care for the land under the Mage-King’s rule,
For him that was not an issue at all.
The only reason Bjork despised the tyrannical king,
Was because of the loss his favorite ball.

You see, Kalamazoo liked to display his magical might,
Inspiring fear and respect across the land.
He laid waste to any village that displeased him,
Vaporizing defenders with a wave of his hand.

In one such village Bjork had lived,
Doing his share in the harvest during Fall.
But the village leader had been late paying taxes,
Which inadvertently lead to the loss of Bjork’s ball.

Kalamazoo showed no mercy when it came to taxes,
Demanding that payments were delivered on time.
The Mage-King decreed that payments should never be late,
Utter annihilation was the sentence of this crime.

One day, Bjork was playing with his ball,
Bouncing it and tossing it into the air.
Then word arrived of the village’s fate,
And all was abandoned with no time to spare.

The villagers immediately gathered and fled,
Dragging along all those they could find.
Bjork was swept up by the mob as they escaped,
And forced to leave his ball behind.

After it was deemed safe for the villagers to return,
They found that nothing had been spared.
Houses, plants, and animals had been burned,
Everything for which they had ever cared.

As Bjork looked out upon the devastation,
He stumbled across the scorched remains of his ball.
And with determination burning in his eyes,
He decided it was time for the Mage-King to fall.

Bjork took up his wood-chopping axe,
And readied himself to fight.
And as the villagers watched in confusion and awe,
Bjork stalked off into the night.

Bjork marched straightway to the palace,
Moving right past the sleeping guard.
He broke into the Mage-King’s bedchamber,
Body-slamming the door hard.

Kalamazoo bolted upright in his bed,
Crying, “Who dares to awaken the king? ”
Bjork stared daggers at the mage and replied,
“I do. Hold still, this might sting.”

With a primal battle cry,
Bjork raised his axe and charged.
The Mage-King quickly chanted a spell,
And cackled as his size enlarged.

“You think you can harm me? ” Kalamazoo bellowed,
“You dare to attack a mage? ”
But Bjork heard none of the Mage-King’s taunts,
So consumed as he was by his rage.

Bjork leapt at the enlarged king,
His axe leading the way.
And after a long and arduous battle,
The reign of Kalamazoo ended that day.

Bjork was thereafter praised as a hero,
Praised for his deed throughout the land.
All cheered for Bjork the Orc,
A tyrant slain by his own hand.

Bjork hesitantly accepted the praise,
Honored to be praised at all.
But he was never truly happy again,
Not since the loss of his ball.

‘Tis a tragic tale,
Tragic that Bjork lost his ball.
But ‘tis happy that a wicked king fell,
Thanks to a hero remembered by all.

~Fowai Uss
 

Sienna_Rose

First Post
Off white parchment, with a slight hint of blue, and very faint waves in the background, holds the next entry.
Time's Waltz

By their ignorance
And hatred
I would be burned.
But, you saved me
From that pyre.
Time spun
Its never-ending dance,
And soon,
Our hearts beat
As one.

"Abomination!" they cried,
"You have no home with us!"
But, with your heart
And mine,
Everywhere
Was our Home.

The winter nights,
Warm in your arms;
Spring mornings,
Tasting your sweet lips;
Summer afternoons,
Filled with your laughter;
Autumn evenings,
Complete with your love.

But, time twirled on,
A lifetime for you,
A flicker for me,
Stretched into
Forever
By the love
That we shared.

The day will come
When our Journeys
Will join again.
Once more
My frozen winter nights
Will be warmed
By your embrace.
My hopeful Spring Dawnings
Will be sweetened
By your soft kiss.
My endless summer noons
Will ring
With your warm laughter.
Our quiet autumn evenings
Will be made whole
By our love.

-Catriona-
 
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Dribble.

First Post
Quieto

A most cheap-looking, coffe-stained parchment is tacked under the others.

Quieto

Silence
Knife, stain
Wall
Stone floor
Moves out
Blood

Quiet

Cry
On her knees
Cry
Dive in
Love

Quiet

- Bari Quickhands-Silverleaf
 
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The Helper
John F. Palladino the 3rd

Why? Why help others?
Because…it is the right thing to do,
But all the same, why do people help?
Throwing away their personal gain?

The Helper is a person,
A person of remarkable status,
The Helper throws away all ideas of oneself,
Only to help the ones the Helper loves,

The Helper tries their best,
Not always to everyone’s satisfaction,
But all the same, happiness is impossible for all,
For the Helper proves it in the Helper’s quest,

A Helper should be recognized,
Praised, and loved,
But most do not even acknowledge the advice or time the Helper puts in,
The Helper tries their best, failing miserably quite often,

Occasionally they help,
Many times they become depressed because of their own acts,
This has happened many a time,
What can a Helper do?
 

Merle

First Post
It takes one small compliment

that could save this girl and the life she spent

Instead we're writing in her eulogy,

"We didn't know... how could we know?"
 

Xanto

First Post
Simple Dreams

Sun was setting
In gold and blues
Promising tomorrow
Will come true
Memories linger
Of hours passed
Crimson hues...
Our shadows cast
Eyes of blue
Sun kissed skin
Lips like wine
As night begins

Sun bestows
It's final wink
Surf recedes in
Shades of pink
Mandolin cries
Faint and low
A warm embrace
A song we know
Rest your head
Hold me tight
We move as one
By candlelight

Bodies sway
With gentle sighs
Reflections play
In loving eyes
Like petaled stem
From early seed
A soft caress
Like a summer breeze
Against the walls
And window panes
Our shadows play
Like summer rain

Evening passes
Music fades
Candle dims
Moon invades
Filling within
Hearts and minds
Like a loved one feels
Or hopes to find
Now evenings kiss
Is on our lips
An evenings dance
To reminisce
Whispers, soft
As you take my hand
Was it all a dream
In the evening sand?


The promises made
Not in haste
Sweet thoughts of you
Like honey's taste
Between the moon
And morning light
You take me slowly
Holding tight
Simple pleasures
As if new
Bodies one...
But, born as two

Like starlight's wink
High aloft
Your warm whisper
Low and soft
They seem to say
Without a sound
Feelings true
Will abound
Things we feel
Things we see
Continue to make
Our hearts believe
In things not heard
In things not seen
In simple love
In simple dreams

Xanto
 
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Elf_Ariel

First Post
The elf approaches, and tacks up her piece of off-white parchment, wondering, pondering, just whether it would go down well or not.

He said, She said

He said ~ Hi I'm Peter, how're you?
She said ~ Hi, I'm thirsty
He said ~ Here's some water
She said ~ Thanks, I'm Kirsty
He said ~ Come for coffee
She said ~ Is this a date?
He said ~ It can be
She said ~ Oh...well I'll be late
He said ~ I've got theatre tickets
She said ~ Oh what for?
He said ~ Just come with me
She said ~ But of course
He said ~ This is for you
She said ~ Whatever for?
He said ~ Just open it
She said ~ Beautiful, but I adore you more
He said ~ You're beautiful
She said ~ Dont be daft
He said ~ I'm serious
She said ~ You cant see me the morning aft
He said ~ I would love to
She said ~ You'd just laugh at me
He said ~ I'd never laugh at you
She said ~ No you'd laugh with me
He said ~ Come out with me
She said ~ What? Tonight?
He said ~ Yeah, right now
She said ~ We'll be out 'til first light?
He said ~ Shall we dance?
She said ~ I dont know how
He said ~ I can teach you
She said ~ What right now?
He said ~ Your smile's perfect
She said ~ You bring it out in me
He said ~ I always try
She said ~ I still cant agree
He said ~ Do you like roses?
She said ~ What woman wouldn't?
He said ~ Well this one's for you
She said ~ You know you shouldn't!
He said ~ How're you feeling?
She said ~ I'm in love
He said ~ How do you know?
She said ~ Because I'll change everything I have
He said ~ I've been in love a while then
She said ~ So have I!
He said ~ Are you serious?
She said ~ Yes...Goodbye​

She sighs idly, fretting that she cannot get it written in the format she wishes...but does her best to make it readable...

Edit - gramma
 
Last edited:

Brad Mage

First Post
He seems to have been thinking long and hard, sitting at a table as people pass him by. After awhile, he carefully tacks this poem up.


Softly whispers the night
of tales that make most
scream in fright
but in those tales I see
that somehow I find the nights
hold something perfect for me

You tried to scare me
tried to fill me with fear
but all I can see
is the one I wish to hold near

With these simple words
I proudly admitt
That its you I love
no other will fit.


He blushes, knowing his simple poem isn't well writen. but his love was was clear in his heart...and to him thats what counted the most.
 

Bhryn

First Post
Of You

Posts hers under the others with care on a simple piece of parchment, then moves away in the crowds with a sigh.

The echoing clock, the chiming beat
The dancing partner with two left feet.
The graceless whirl, the subtle smile
The breathless laughter all the while.

The sudden feeling, the broken heart
The softest whispers in softer dark,
The aching need, the holding on
The misery when you are gone.

The careful words, the careless drive
The love upon which all must thrive;
The slow decline, the depth of night
The single candle which is my light.

The lone embrace, the softest kiss
And all of you that I always miss.

Bhryn xxx
 
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