Books
Geek Author Ethan Gilsdorf Talks Names, Games, and Giveaways!

DSC_0203-EthanEthan Gilsdorf is the celebrated geek author of the very awesome book, Fantasy Freaks and Gaming Geeks. It’s the sort of book that, if you’re a lifelong geek like me, you can’t put down. The book chronicles Ethan’s life as a young geek, his escape from his roots, and then his return. From Tolkien to tabletop roleplaying, from Boston to New Zealand, the book is a pitch-perfect account of one geek’s journey in a very, very wide world.

F_final_FFGG_front_jacketI met Ethan earlier this year at PAX:East, where we sat on a panel together. At that point, his book was just in hardcover: but lo! It has landed in paperback!

So, in celebration this great book going paperback, I asked Ethan to do an interview for us here at GeekMom. And since he’s done quite a few interviews, I didn’t want it to be the same dull questions as usual. So we delved a little deeper into the depths of geekdom to tease out some unusual answers.

Hark! There is more, indeed.

In addition to the interview, Ethan is also giving away 5 signed copies of his book Fantasy Freaks and Gaming Geeks to our readers.

How do you win this coveted book, you ask? Ethan, among other things, is also a poet. So I thought it’d be cool if you could give us a verse or two. Be it a free verse, a limerick, a sonnet, a haiku, or a villanelle, on the geeky subject of your choosing (think “An Ode to Harry Potter” or the “Ballad of Bilbo”). Just put your entries in the comments below and we’ll choose the best five entries by Friday!

Good luck, and geek on!

Ethan Gilsdorf Answers GeekMom’s Curious Questions

GeekMom: You’re playing D&D. Your first character choice?
Ethan Gilsdorf: First, a caveat: I come from the dark ages of AD&D, back when we covered our holy texts (the Monster Manual, et al) with brown shopping bag paper and we didn’t have funky classes like Avenger, Invoker, or College Professor, or races like Minotaur, Shardmind, or SpongeBob. No siree! We walked to wizard school through 3 feet of snow and we didn’t have d20s, only d2s and d3s. But to the question: I have always preferred the sneakier, tree-huggier classes like ranger or thief. As far as races, I go hobbit (ooops, silly me, I mean “halfling”) or half-elf. I guess I have a schizophrenic Aragorn … no … Bilbo! fetish. I like the idea of stealth rather than brawn, and I really dig the dark-and-stormy loner types with haunted bloodlines.

GM:  The Hobbit movie. Is it going to happen? Your thoughts on PJ vs. Del Toro, and what is in store for the franchise?
EG: The news on this darned movie changes daily. Now that GDT is out, at least those who worried he’d Hellboy it up too much or front-load it with too much action and creatures and special effects, should be breathing a sigh of relief. GDT is a wonderful director, don’t get me wrong. But there’s some solace in knowing that PJ will be at the helm (at least that’s the last news) and the visual and directorial style will be consistent with LOTR. Now the bigger question is whether The Hobbit will be filmed in New Zealand or not, due to, first, labor/union issues, and now tax break issues, and whether Warner Bros. will want to make a film in a country where the actors threatened to strike. There have been huge rallies in NZ to keep the film there. As I write this, Warners is reportedly headed to NZ to meet with PJ’s company Wingnut Films to move the production offshore. (Weirdly, Facebook pulled a “Keep the Hobbit film shoot in New Zealand” page after it got 10,000 fans — is Facebook in cahoots with Time/Warner?). Tempers are flaring and folks are upset. It’s unfortunate, but since everyone involved stands to make a crapload of money, the film will get made, if not in NZ then the UK or Eastern Europe. (Editor’s note: the film will officially be made in NZ.)

GM: Do you think giving your child a geeky name (Zelda, Frodo, Superman) is a good thing, or a bad thing? Are parents setting their kids up for a geeky upbringing, or will this overt geek indoctrination end up backfiring?
EG: Will naming your spawn Arwen, Neo, Buffy or Leia condemn them to endless torment? I doubt it. There’s already a trend for crazy non-geek mash-up names that seem equally ridiculous, i.e., Breckin? Chance? Maxigan? Attica? Not much goofier than Samwise. Besides, by the time your babies are in high school, Lord of the Rings will be required reading, and they’ll be able to study French, Latin and Na’vi.

GM: What are your geeky black holes? Any fandoms or pastimes you just aren’t into/don’t get/wish you could like but don’t? (Me: Dr. Who, for instance)
EG: One problem is I don’t watch TV as much as I used to, so I’ve missed a lot of the recent shows like Battlestar Galactica and Lost (I know, it’s embarrassing to admit! They’re on my list to get on DVD!). And in terms of gaming, I don’t own Xbox or Wii, so I don’t have much first-person experience with the most ground-breaking games like BioShock or Gears of War. What can I say? My hand-eye was always pathetic (although I’m pretty good at old-school arcade games like Galaga and Robotron 2084). I never got into anime or manga, either (but weirdly loved “Star Blazers” as a kid). Like you, I never connected with Dr. Who, despite it airing each night on PBS between Julia Child and MacNeil/Lehrer. Those BBC special effects were just too cheesy a kid who was spoiled on ILM-quality effects. I’m too old for Joss Whedon fandom and wish I had gotten into Magic: The Gathering. But I do my best to keep up and make sure my black holes aren’t too deep. Lately, I’ve been diving into steampunk for an article I’m writing for the Boston Globe. I even attended a steampunk LARP. That was a hoot.

GM: Gilsdorf. Seems like the name has some geeky undertones. I think Gil-Galad, and dwarf. Were you just predestined?
EG: On my book tour, I’ve gotten a zillion comments from people asking me if my name is real. Yep, I say, my parents actually named me this tongue-twister “Ethan Gilsdorf.”. People wonder if it’s Elvish. Or Elvis. At the time, the name Ethan was about as rare as orc teeth. Friends in high school called me Nahte Frodslig.

GM: You spent a good amount of time away from geekery in general. Now you’re embracing it, and well, making money off of the story of your journey. Have you encountered any angry geeks in regards to your years of non-geekiness? Or have people been generally welcoming?
EG: Thankfully, people have been really welcoming. They appreciated me advocating for geek subcultures and in some cases, helping them suppress their own misgivings or hesitations about their geekery and embrace their passions entirely. Of course, rightly, some folks have been skeptical, both while I was traveling and researching the book, and then on the road speaking about Fantasy Freaks and Gaming Geeks. I’ve had to pass a “geek cred” test. (Which I usually pass. Just don’t ask me about 4th edition rules.) As for making money off my journey — ha! Who told you writers can make money at this? Honestly, thus far this has been pretty much a break even project for me (so buy the paperback!)

GM: If you could be one superhero for a day, who would it be?
EG: Awesome Teeth Guy? 401K-Man? Jesus? I was a fan of Aquaman as a kid, but his superpowers always seemed pretty lame (communicating telepathically with marine life doesn’t really help with villains ransacking Gotham City, does it?) Actually, I always liked The Thing. And The Flash. OK, I’ll go with The Flash. He is cool.

GM: If you could live in one alternate world (from movies, books, etc.) which would it be, and why?
EG: I have to say Middle-earth. I am a total, 110 percent, certifiable Tolkien geek. I want to live in the Shire and drink ale and dance and grow carrots and eat myself fat and smoke pipeweed. And go on the occasional adventure.

GM: Who’s your geek crush? (If you have one.)
EG: As a confused pre-pubescent in the 1970s, I was infatuated with Lynda Carter (Wonder Woman) and her Amazonian boobs. Later, Carrie Fisher as Leia (particularly the Jabba-enslaved Leia in her bronze bikini) did it for me. Nowadays? Tina Fey. Is she a real geek? Probably not. But she looks geeky behind those glasses. I’m a sucker for nerdy librarian types.

GM: What geeky achievement are you most proud of?
EG: Other than writing Fantasy Freaks and Gaming Geeks, I’d have to say my trip to New Zealand to visit as many of the Lord of the Rings filming locations as possible, stalk Peter Jackson and sneak in to Weta Workshop was a thrill. I met some of the LOTR effects guys like Peter Lyon (who made the swords) and Gino Acevedo (who did all the prosthetic makeup) and I got to say “Hi” to Richard Taylor. I also sweet-talked my way into seeing the actual manuscripts of The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings (they’re in Milwaukee, of all places). I was allowed to page through some of Tolkien’s handwritten drafts and drawings like the Gate of Moria and the original map of the Lonely Mountain. I tried not to drool. You can read about these geekouts in my book.

About Ethan:

Gilsdorf is the Somerville, Massachusetts-based author of Fantasy Freaks and Gaming Geeks: An Epic Quest for Reality Among Role Players, Online Gamers, and Other Dwellers of Imaginary Realms. He also published travel, arts, and pop culture stories regularly in The New York Times, The Boston Globe, Washington Post, The Christian Science Monitor and other magazines and newspapers worldwide. His blog “Geek Pride” is seen regularly on PsychologyToday.com and he has also been a guest on talk radio and at conventions like PAX and DragonCon as a fantasy and escapism expert. He watched the extended edition of the Lord of the Rings trilogy at least once a year, and he plays with his dice whenever he can.  You can follow Ethan’s adventures (and read more about the book) here.

Natania Barron

Founding editor Natania Barron is a geeky mom, an author, a Gryffindor, and a Took. She tweets about writing, cooking, life, and other mysteries at @nataniabarron.

132 Comments
  1. an academic geek sought to study wizard rock,
    but not much was out there, not even to mock,
    she heard of a book,
    and wanted a look,
    to read it and see if it was worth dobby’s sock

    (if its not obvious, I chose to write about WHY I would like to win a copy of the book – which is it is one of the only I’ve seen to even mention wizard rock in any kind of detail beyond a simple mention that it exists. I would like to read the rest of course, but the wizard rock chapter is how I heard about this book first, because I was searching worldcat for books and dissertations that might mention wizard rock)

    (also for the record – I am not meaning it might be worth Dobby being enslaved again… it would be Dobby’s sock in the sense of one of his socks he knitted, not the one that freed him – just realized I might better clarify =D lol)

    • Legolas Beloved,

      To my elven love,
      You are asleep perhaps,
      Dreaming of a foreign world,
      Untouched by my hands,
      Unseen by my eyes,

      I am not of the stars and walk not,
      With a white crescent,
      Burning on a pale brow,

      I cannot compare,
      To a maiden of your kind,
      Their beauty forever,
      An orchard of blossom in moonlight,
      You are beyond me

  2. an academic geek sought to study wizard rock,
    but not much was out there, not even to mock,
    she heard of a book,
    and wanted a look,
    to read it and see if it was worth dobby’s sock

    (if its not obvious, I chose to write about WHY I would like to win a copy of the book – which is it is one of the only I’ve seen to even mention wizard rock in any kind of detail beyond a simple mention that it exists. I would like to read the rest of course, but the wizard rock chapter is how I heard about this book first, because I was searching worldcat for books and dissertations that might mention wizard rock)

    (also for the record – I am not meaning it might be worth Dobby being enslaved again… it would be Dobby’s sock in the sense of one of his socks he knitted, not the one that freed him – just realized I might better clarify =D lol)

    • Legolas Beloved,

      To my elven love,
      You are asleep perhaps,
      Dreaming of a foreign world,
      Untouched by my hands,
      Unseen by my eyes,

      I am not of the stars and walk not,
      With a white crescent,
      Burning on a pale brow,

      I cannot compare,
      To a maiden of your kind,
      Their beauty forever,
      An orchard of blossom in moonlight,
      You are beyond me

  3. elliot

    Twas late in the shire
    the young hobbit appeared,
    Perhaps he was inspired
    for none knew whence he was reared.

    He gazed all around,
    at sights familiar yet strange;
    Then he made for high ground
    to get a feel for this range.

    Range… hmm
    The word made him feel stranger.
    He attuned with a thrum,
    He was… a ranger!

    Lithely climbing a cliff face,
    His eyes could see far and clear;
    His feet descended in a race,
    A village was near.

    Silently moving
    Past hobbit holes in the ground.
    His luck was improving
    He found a source of light and sound.

    A tavern! A tavern!
    A place to start and end tales.
    He entered and drank in
    Smells of wood, bread, and ales.

    Sipping and supping
    By the hot roaring fire,
    He removed his hood
    He had begun to perspire.

    A table away
    whispers stopped and eyes stared.
    Then someone had their say;
    the others turned and glared.

    That someone left the rest,
    He was a warrior and a dwarf;
    He said, “we need a twelfth for our quest.
    Are you Ethan Gilsdorf?”

  4. elliot

    Twas late in the shire
    the young hobbit appeared,
    Perhaps he was inspired
    for none knew whence he was reared.

    He gazed all around,
    at sights familiar yet strange;
    Then he made for high ground
    to get a feel for this range.

    Range… hmm
    The word made him feel stranger.
    He attuned with a thrum,
    He was… a ranger!

    Lithely climbing a cliff face,
    His eyes could see far and clear;
    His feet descended in a race,
    A village was near.

    Silently moving
    Past hobbit holes in the ground.
    His luck was improving
    He found a source of light and sound.

    A tavern! A tavern!
    A place to start and end tales.
    He entered and drank in
    Smells of wood, bread, and ales.

    Sipping and supping
    By the hot roaring fire,
    He removed his hood
    He had begun to perspire.

    A table away
    whispers stopped and eyes stared.
    Then someone had their say;
    the others turned and glared.

    That someone left the rest,
    He was a warrior and a dwarf;
    He said, “we need a twelfth for our quest.
    Are you Ethan Gilsdorf?”

  5. Regina W

    Star Trek Captains in Haiku

    The Original
    Series had Kirk–a hero
    and womanizer.

    Next Generation
    had Picard, as noble as
    a captain should be.

    Deep Space Nine followed
    Sisco, who was strong enough
    to handle Bajor.

    Voyager got lost
    with stubborn Janeway leading.
    But she got them home.

    Enterprise was led
    by a farmboy named Archer.
    He had his hands full…

  6. Regina W

    Star Trek Captains in Haiku

    The Original
    Series had Kirk–a hero
    and womanizer.

    Next Generation
    had Picard, as noble as
    a captain should be.

    Deep Space Nine followed
    Sisco, who was strong enough
    to handle Bajor.

    Voyager got lost
    with stubborn Janeway leading.
    But she got them home.

    Enterprise was led
    by a farmboy named Archer.
    He had his hands full…

  7. Lennis

    Ode to Tron

    Complicated lights,
    political maneuvers;
    high speed racing. Watch!

    Dillinger betrays Flynn.
    Flynn hacks ENCOM but thwarted;
    MCP wins game.

    Alan creating Tron
    to monitor MCP;
    AI often scary!

    ENCOM Laser Lab
    digitizing real objects–
    Flynn into mainframe.

    Flynn, Tron and Ram escape
    Light Sycle arena games.
    User Flynn gains power.

    Tron escapes tower–
    Solar Sailor getaway.
    Lora’s Yori helped.

    Final battlesite, core.
    MCP transfers functions
    so Stark grows larger.

    Flynn jumps into core.
    Tron throws his disc to destroy.
    System free! Flynn out.

  8. Lennis

    Ode to Tron

    Complicated lights,
    political maneuvers;
    high speed racing. Watch!

    Dillinger betrays Flynn.
    Flynn hacks ENCOM but thwarted;
    MCP wins game.

    Alan creating Tron
    to monitor MCP;
    AI often scary!

    ENCOM Laser Lab
    digitizing real objects–
    Flynn into mainframe.

    Flynn, Tron and Ram escape
    Light Sycle arena games.
    User Flynn gains power.

    Tron escapes tower–
    Solar Sailor getaway.
    Lora’s Yori helped.

    Final battlesite, core.
    MCP transfers functions
    so Stark grows larger.

    Flynn jumps into core.
    Tron throws his disc to destroy.
    System free! Flynn out.

  9. Vogon Poetry:

    Squish.
    Crunch.
    Swirl.
    Frog in a blender.
    Worst margarita ever!

  10. Vogon Poetry:

    Squish.
    Crunch.
    Swirl.
    Frog in a blender.
    Worst margarita ever!

  11. “The Fellowship”
    Some hobbits, and men, and the rest
    Set off on a dangerous quest
    Some fought at a tower
    Some found Sammath Naur
    and some sailed off into the West

  12. “The Fellowship”
    Some hobbits, and men, and the rest
    Set off on a dangerous quest
    Some fought at a tower
    Some found Sammath Naur
    and some sailed off into the West

  13. “A Most Superior Race”

    Sage and temperate are the elves,
    Who, with every year’s passing,
    Dilute their tired hearts’ askings,
    Smoldering want forever felled.
    And for the ones who like to weld
    In the dank, dark deep,
    Where kisses of mithril may seep,
    Life’s wonders are what can sell.
    And as for those who time tells
    Already, it is time to die,
    Whispers for power spawns earthly lies
    As dreaming rings its sweet bells.
    Ah, but those in yonder dell
    Think not too little, not too oft
    Of weighty, dreary stuff.
    Simple, sturdy, stout, they tell
    The important things in life:
    Mainly food, family, friends;
    Lots of leisure, little strife.

  14. “A Most Superior Race”

    Sage and temperate are the elves,
    Who, with every year’s passing,
    Dilute their tired hearts’ askings,
    Smoldering want forever felled.
    And for the ones who like to weld
    In the dank, dark deep,
    Where kisses of mithril may seep,
    Life’s wonders are what can sell.
    And as for those who time tells
    Already, it is time to die,
    Whispers for power spawns earthly lies
    As dreaming rings its sweet bells.
    Ah, but those in yonder dell
    Think not too little, not too oft
    Of weighty, dreary stuff.
    Simple, sturdy, stout, they tell
    The important things in life:
    Mainly food, family, friends;
    Lots of leisure, little strife.

  15. Beth Trogdon/Eruwestial

    A Orlando (aka…the Fancrone Song)
    To the tune of Fernando, by ABBA

    Can you hear the screams, Orlando?
    It wasn’t long ago, another fan-filled night like this.
    In the flash bulb light Orlando,
    You were praying to escape and quickly running for your car
    You could hear the distant squees
    And sounds of Fancrone cries were coming from afar.

    They seem closer now Orlando…
    Every hour that they chase you seems to last eternally
    You were overwhelmed Orlando
    They were old and full of spunk and none of them prepared to fly
    Don’t be ashamed to say the
    scream of rabid Fancrones almost made you cry.

    They were hiding on the stairs that night
    In sheer delight, Orlando
    They were waiting there for you, you see
    To share their glee, Orlando
    Though you never dreamed it’d be like this
    Do you have regrets?
    If you had to do the same again
    Would you, my friend, Orlando?

    They may be old and grey Orlando,
    But it’s been only hours since they saw a longbow in your hand.
    Can you hear the screams of “Orlando!”
    And still recall that faithful night when PJ told of his plan
    I can tell it from your face
    How proud you are to be a part of work that grand…

    They were hiding on the stairs that night
    In sheer delight, Orlando
    They were waiting there for you, you see
    To share their glee, Orlando
    Though you never dreamed it’d be like this
    Do you have regrets?
    If you had to do the same again
    Would you, my friend, Orlando?friend wrote this for me back when LOTR was new and I was a SERIOUS Orlando Fancrone: older lady who ‘appreciated’ Orlando Bloom :<)

  16. Beth Trogdon/Eruwestial

    A Orlando (aka…the Fancrone Song)
    To the tune of Fernando, by ABBA

    Can you hear the screams, Orlando?
    It wasn’t long ago, another fan-filled night like this.
    In the flash bulb light Orlando,
    You were praying to escape and quickly running for your car
    You could hear the distant squees
    And sounds of Fancrone cries were coming from afar.

    They seem closer now Orlando…
    Every hour that they chase you seems to last eternally
    You were overwhelmed Orlando
    They were old and full of spunk and none of them prepared to fly
    Don’t be ashamed to say the
    scream of rabid Fancrones almost made you cry.

    They were hiding on the stairs that night
    In sheer delight, Orlando
    They were waiting there for you, you see
    To share their glee, Orlando
    Though you never dreamed it’d be like this
    Do you have regrets?
    If you had to do the same again
    Would you, my friend, Orlando?

    They may be old and grey Orlando,
    But it’s been only hours since they saw a longbow in your hand.
    Can you hear the screams of “Orlando!”
    And still recall that faithful night when PJ told of his plan
    I can tell it from your face
    How proud you are to be a part of work that grand…

    They were hiding on the stairs that night
    In sheer delight, Orlando
    They were waiting there for you, you see
    To share their glee, Orlando
    Though you never dreamed it’d be like this
    Do you have regrets?
    If you had to do the same again
    Would you, my friend, Orlando?friend wrote this for me back when LOTR was new and I was a SERIOUS Orlando Fancrone: older lady who ‘appreciated’ Orlando Bloom :<)

  17. A Precious Sonnet:

    He asks me: “what is in his pocktesses?”
    We do not know. We only know she is gone
    And that we hate Baggins forever!
    Filthy, nasty hobbit tricks us of her
    So we weep in the dark and the mist
    And follows it out of the mountain
    But dirty, stinky orcses grabs us
    Their blades and chains burns us!
    Shire! Baggins! We cry for our mercy!
    Worse than little orcs gallop for her
    The ones hooded wants her like me – more.
    But the black riders do not find her
    She has gone to Bree. No! to Rivendell
    No! to Moria she goes – we follow.
    She is leaving with the other baggins
    We follows it and her – and the fat one
    The other baggins is now our master.
    He reminds us of our name: Smeagol.
    Go away – and never come back I says!
    I am nice to master, I lead him
    To the land of black – and of his eye!
    His eye wants her too! I have seen for years!
    Master and the fat one go another way
    Caught! Brutish, stupid human beats me!
    Master has betrayed me – we return.
    We will take her soon, the tunnels approach.
    Cirith Ungol, where eight legs will devour
    And we shall have her, after they have gone
    Stubborn and strong hobbitses they are
    My ally is slain – but no matter
    Once more I follow, this time up flame
    Master cannot cast it down into red
    She is mine now! I leap for her – reaching.
    Fingers in the way – crunch! – and she is free!
    My love, we fall in burning ectasy!
    At least we had her – if only a moment
    My heart, and flesh melt for her – my precious!

  18. A Precious Sonnet:

    He asks me: “what is in his pocktesses?”
    We do not know. We only know she is gone
    And that we hate Baggins forever!
    Filthy, nasty hobbit tricks us of her
    So we weep in the dark and the mist
    And follows it out of the mountain
    But dirty, stinky orcses grabs us
    Their blades and chains burns us!
    Shire! Baggins! We cry for our mercy!
    Worse than little orcs gallop for her
    The ones hooded wants her like me – more.
    But the black riders do not find her
    She has gone to Bree. No! to Rivendell
    No! to Moria she goes – we follow.
    She is leaving with the other baggins
    We follows it and her – and the fat one
    The other baggins is now our master.
    He reminds us of our name: Smeagol.
    Go away – and never come back I says!
    I am nice to master, I lead him
    To the land of black – and of his eye!
    His eye wants her too! I have seen for years!
    Master and the fat one go another way
    Caught! Brutish, stupid human beats me!
    Master has betrayed me – we return.
    We will take her soon, the tunnels approach.
    Cirith Ungol, where eight legs will devour
    And we shall have her, after they have gone
    Stubborn and strong hobbitses they are
    My ally is slain – but no matter
    Once more I follow, this time up flame
    Master cannot cast it down into red
    She is mine now! I leap for her – reaching.
    Fingers in the way – crunch! – and she is free!
    My love, we fall in burning ectasy!
    At least we had her – if only a moment
    My heart, and flesh melt for her – my precious!

  19. Kangi Ska

    Midsummer

    ‘Twas Midsummer’s in this wondrous land
    Where rollicked the last Aegean Ram
    To music made on harp and gong
    And driven by Mad Hatter’s song.

    And loud sang he the lyric truth
    Bequeathed to him in blushing youth.
    By Father’s Mother’s Brother’s wife
    ‘Twas his core philosophy of life.

    “Oh Walrus spin and Dodo whirl
    While Caterpillar’s bagpipes skirl
    And all you nauseating nasty beasts
    Turn a wild kolo on this reef
    Beneath the clouds of dun and dinge
    That hang the sky a ragged fringe.”

    Down Alice fell, by happenstance,
    A witness to this frantic dance
    A witless child of merely ten
    That only sought her home again.

    “So, silly girl of golden curl,
    Your salty sea of tears has swirled
    And torn apart our homely land
    Leaving just this little strip of sand
    This last of things, both near and far
    This stinking sinking mud caked bar.”

    In time poor girl found her wits
    Smoothed rumpled dress and combed the bits
    Of kelp leaves from her sodden hair;
    Stepped carefully across to where
    The Hatter stood, his eyes ablaze,
    His mind escaped to better days,
    To rosy times in garden green
    And croquet with his friend the Queen.

    But sir, I say, it is absurd
    To blame me for your loss of earth
    I was not here! How could it be?
    That I caused this catastrophe?

  20. Kangi Ska

    Midsummer

    ‘Twas Midsummer’s in this wondrous land
    Where rollicked the last Aegean Ram
    To music made on harp and gong
    And driven by Mad Hatter’s song.

    And loud sang he the lyric truth
    Bequeathed to him in blushing youth.
    By Father’s Mother’s Brother’s wife
    ‘Twas his core philosophy of life.

    “Oh Walrus spin and Dodo whirl
    While Caterpillar’s bagpipes skirl
    And all you nauseating nasty beasts
    Turn a wild kolo on this reef
    Beneath the clouds of dun and dinge
    That hang the sky a ragged fringe.”

    Down Alice fell, by happenstance,
    A witness to this frantic dance
    A witless child of merely ten
    That only sought her home again.

    “So, silly girl of golden curl,
    Your salty sea of tears has swirled
    And torn apart our homely land
    Leaving just this little strip of sand
    This last of things, both near and far
    This stinking sinking mud caked bar.”

    In time poor girl found her wits
    Smoothed rumpled dress and combed the bits
    Of kelp leaves from her sodden hair;
    Stepped carefully across to where
    The Hatter stood, his eyes ablaze,
    His mind escaped to better days,
    To rosy times in garden green
    And croquet with his friend the Queen.

    But sir, I say, it is absurd
    To blame me for your loss of earth
    I was not here! How could it be?
    That I caused this catastrophe?

  21. pachoman

    The love of my life: It

    To make me you feel my love!
    since i get the notice of your coming i was surprised!
    the days passed away, but my love for you increase constantly!
    many people were speaking about you,
    many people were wondering about you,
    many people just tried to get early than others,
    but there is a true love,
    that cant be overwhelmed by anybody,
    there have passed 10 months since your first appeareance…

    that time, when you first revelead your beauty,
    when the people for the first time touched you,
    and the happiness was everywhere,
    from Arkansas to Wisconsin,
    from El Paso to New York…

    Im just trying to remember what was my expression the first time i meet you,
    was just 4 months after your appeareance to the world press…
    diaries, television, radio and the internet covered your story…

    When i haved in my hands for the first time,
    and start to know your interior,
    know your feelings,
    what was your thinking,
    how great you was!

    Please, dont run away from me,
    please stay with me more time,
    your 10 hours of life make me cry,
    however the time with you is unique…

    We can listen the music we love,
    we can play the games we want,
    we read together what we need,
    but most important we watch movies together…

    Oh!
    stay with me, dear IPAD…

  22. pachoman

    The love of my life: It

    To make me you feel my love!
    since i get the notice of your coming i was surprised!
    the days passed away, but my love for you increase constantly!
    many people were speaking about you,
    many people were wondering about you,
    many people just tried to get early than others,
    but there is a true love,
    that cant be overwhelmed by anybody,
    there have passed 10 months since your first appeareance…

    that time, when you first revelead your beauty,
    when the people for the first time touched you,
    and the happiness was everywhere,
    from Arkansas to Wisconsin,
    from El Paso to New York…

    Im just trying to remember what was my expression the first time i meet you,
    was just 4 months after your appeareance to the world press…
    diaries, television, radio and the internet covered your story…

    When i haved in my hands for the first time,
    and start to know your interior,
    know your feelings,
    what was your thinking,
    how great you was!

    Please, dont run away from me,
    please stay with me more time,
    your 10 hours of life make me cry,
    however the time with you is unique…

    We can listen the music we love,
    we can play the games we want,
    we read together what we need,
    but most important we watch movies together…

    Oh!
    stay with me, dear IPAD…

  23. Oh, here is the version with the author, and a bit edited. Sorry!

    Author: Beriadan (Torn Forum ID) / Alex B

    He asks me: “what is in his pocktesses?”
    We do not know. We only know she is gone
    And that we hate Baggins forever!
    Filthy, nasty hobbit tricks us of her
    So we weep in the dark and the mist
    And follows it out of the mountain
    But dirty, stinky orcses grabs us
    Their blades and chains burns us!
    Shire! Baggins! We cry for our mercy!
    Worse than little orcs gallop for her
    The ones hooded wants her like me – more.
    But the black riders do not find her
    She has gone to Bree. No! to Rivendell
    No! to Moria she goes – we follow.
    She is leaving with the other baggins
    We follows it and her – and the fat one
    The other baggins is now our master.
    He reminds us of our name: Smeagol.
    Go away – and never come back I says!
    I am nice to master, I lead him
    To the land of black – and of his eye!
    His eye wants her too! I have seen for years!
    Master and the fat one go another way
    Caught! Brutish, stupid human beats me!
    Master has betrayed me – we return.
    We will take her soon, the tunnels approach.
    Cirith Ungol, where eight legs will devour
    And we shall have her, after they have gone
    Stubborn and strong hobbitses they are
    My ally is slain – but no matter
    Once more I follow, this time up flame
    Master cannot cast it down into red
    She is mine now! I leap for her – reaching.
    Fingers in the way – crunch! – and she is free!
    My love, we fall in burning ectasy!
    At least we had her – if only a moment
    My heart, and flesh melt for her – my precious!

  24. Oh, here is the version with the author, and a bit edited. Sorry!

    Author: Beriadan (Torn Forum ID) / Alex B

    He asks me: “what is in his pocktesses?”
    We do not know. We only know she is gone
    And that we hate Baggins forever!
    Filthy, nasty hobbit tricks us of her
    So we weep in the dark and the mist
    And follows it out of the mountain
    But dirty, stinky orcses grabs us
    Their blades and chains burns us!
    Shire! Baggins! We cry for our mercy!
    Worse than little orcs gallop for her
    The ones hooded wants her like me – more.
    But the black riders do not find her
    She has gone to Bree. No! to Rivendell
    No! to Moria she goes – we follow.
    She is leaving with the other baggins
    We follows it and her – and the fat one
    The other baggins is now our master.
    He reminds us of our name: Smeagol.
    Go away – and never come back I says!
    I am nice to master, I lead him
    To the land of black – and of his eye!
    His eye wants her too! I have seen for years!
    Master and the fat one go another way
    Caught! Brutish, stupid human beats me!
    Master has betrayed me – we return.
    We will take her soon, the tunnels approach.
    Cirith Ungol, where eight legs will devour
    And we shall have her, after they have gone
    Stubborn and strong hobbitses they are
    My ally is slain – but no matter
    Once more I follow, this time up flame
    Master cannot cast it down into red
    She is mine now! I leap for her – reaching.
    Fingers in the way – crunch! – and she is free!
    My love, we fall in burning ectasy!
    At least we had her – if only a moment
    My heart, and flesh melt for her – my precious!

  25. Nathan Stevens

    (George Lucas is going in my Axis of Evil…)

    There once was a galaxy far, far away
    Where sunsets were binary, Jawas would play

    The story was epic and struck all the notes
    Pulling on heartstrings and winning my vote

    It told of a Jedi: young, noble and brave
    Who fought with the rebels. Their chances were grave

    We were captured as viewers by dazzling sights
    And immersed in the cause and the allies great plight

    We cared for the characters, thrilled at the plot
    But then there were new films which set in the rot

    The prequels destroyed all the intrigue and fun
    George Lucas thought “Cash cow! Take money and run!”

    Did he think “They won’t notice as long as I use
    Lots of special effects to charm and amuse”?

    We baulked at Jar-Jar and the painful screenplay
    And even the actors all squirmed in dismay

    Explaining the force was quite hard to take:
    Replacing the mystery with science half-baked

    At least Lucas left the first three films alone
    Oh wait no he tinkered – now Solo will moan

    “I once was quite edgy – ask Greedo he’ll state
    I shot with my blaster and sealed his fate

    Before he could blink, before he could twitch
    My quick trigger finger had scratched on the itch

    But Georgie, he just couldn’t leave it alone:
    “Let’s make Han more “goody” – we’ll have him go prone

    To dodge Greedo’s bullet…Yeah! Have him shoot first
    Then Solo responds with an accurate burst”

    “No, no!” We all cried, “You’ve ruined it G!”
    We liked it already. Why can’t you see?

    The great “No way!” moments like “Luke I’m you’re Dad”
    Are ruined forever oh this is so sad!

    Watched from the beginning we all then would see
    What’s coming because it was Episode III

    That told us Luke Skywalker’s Darth Vader’s son
    And Leia’s Darth’s daughter. George, what have you done?

    You took what was precious and heavenly sent
    And turned it into a Star Wars Fan’s lament

  26. Nathan Stevens

    (George Lucas is going in my Axis of Evil…)

    There once was a galaxy far, far away
    Where sunsets were binary, Jawas would play

    The story was epic and struck all the notes
    Pulling on heartstrings and winning my vote

    It told of a Jedi: young, noble and brave
    Who fought with the rebels. Their chances were grave

    We were captured as viewers by dazzling sights
    And immersed in the cause and the allies great plight

    We cared for the characters, thrilled at the plot
    But then there were new films which set in the rot

    The prequels destroyed all the intrigue and fun
    George Lucas thought “Cash cow! Take money and run!”

    Did he think “They won’t notice as long as I use
    Lots of special effects to charm and amuse”?

    We baulked at Jar-Jar and the painful screenplay
    And even the actors all squirmed in dismay

    Explaining the force was quite hard to take:
    Replacing the mystery with science half-baked

    At least Lucas left the first three films alone
    Oh wait no he tinkered – now Solo will moan

    “I once was quite edgy – ask Greedo he’ll state
    I shot with my blaster and sealed his fate

    Before he could blink, before he could twitch
    My quick trigger finger had scratched on the itch

    But Georgie, he just couldn’t leave it alone:
    “Let’s make Han more “goody” – we’ll have him go prone

    To dodge Greedo’s bullet…Yeah! Have him shoot first
    Then Solo responds with an accurate burst”

    “No, no!” We all cried, “You’ve ruined it G!”
    We liked it already. Why can’t you see?

    The great “No way!” moments like “Luke I’m you’re Dad”
    Are ruined forever oh this is so sad!

    Watched from the beginning we all then would see
    What’s coming because it was Episode III

    That told us Luke Skywalker’s Darth Vader’s son
    And Leia’s Darth’s daughter. George, what have you done?

    You took what was precious and heavenly sent
    And turned it into a Star Wars Fan’s lament

  27. Ode to Rivendell

    A torrent overflows -the knowledge of the ages-,

    An incessant rain of wisdom sublime;

    It runs through eternal vale and forest

    Making triviality drown and die.

    Ephemeral thoughts have no part

    In contemplation of the mountains high;

    Lore dwells forever in the heart whose eyes

    Behold the glory of the Imladris land.

    In the multitude of pine trees deeply rooted

    The abundance of knowledge is reflected,

    Its complex ways are seen connected

    By winding paths and watchful bridges.

    And beheld from above the landscape renders

    A perfect pattern, cunningly interwoven,

    Retold and described in voices ancient

    By the inland murmur of the water flowing.

    In the valley of Rivendell immemorial

    No empty sound or sight ever rises;

    The bird that sings, the wind that howls

    Have meanings deep and wonderful.

    The flowers speak of secrets priceless,

    About hidden treasures of old,

    Which only years of contemplation

    Will lead the mortal to unfold.

    Whoever gathered all this wisdom

    In book, or parchment or scroll?

    Perhaps it’s meant to flow forever

    And be ever rising like the dawn.

    And when the roamer, unaware,

    Is stunned, amazed by its glow,

    Great joy is born, a new beginning,

    That heart has found an endless trove.

    2009 Erica Yanina Luján

  28. Ode to Rivendell

    A torrent overflows -the knowledge of the ages-,

    An incessant rain of wisdom sublime;

    It runs through eternal vale and forest

    Making triviality drown and die.

    Ephemeral thoughts have no part

    In contemplation of the mountains high;

    Lore dwells forever in the heart whose eyes

    Behold the glory of the Imladris land.

    In the multitude of pine trees deeply rooted

    The abundance of knowledge is reflected,

    Its complex ways are seen connected

    By winding paths and watchful bridges.

    And beheld from above the landscape renders

    A perfect pattern, cunningly interwoven,

    Retold and described in voices ancient

    By the inland murmur of the water flowing.

    In the valley of Rivendell immemorial

    No empty sound or sight ever rises;

    The bird that sings, the wind that howls

    Have meanings deep and wonderful.

    The flowers speak of secrets priceless,

    About hidden treasures of old,

    Which only years of contemplation

    Will lead the mortal to unfold.

    Whoever gathered all this wisdom

    In book, or parchment or scroll?

    Perhaps it’s meant to flow forever

    And be ever rising like the dawn.

    And when the roamer, unaware,

    Is stunned, amazed by its glow,

    Great joy is born, a new beginning,

    That heart has found an endless trove.

    2009 Erica Yanina Luján

  29. I wrote this quite a few years ago and it’s not exactly “geeky” (though what geek doesn’t like food and appliances?) but I thought I’d share it.

    I had a turkey sandwich —
    by type a submarine;
    it covered all four food groups,
    bread veggies cheese protein.

    I thought that I would stash it
    safely in refrigerator,
    kept nice and fresh and crispy cool
    for when I came back later.

    What is pray tell that saying
    about best-made plans laid waste?
    For I feel the worst has happened:
    it befell another’s taste.

    Yes ’tis true my turkey sub
    is nowhere to be found.
    I trust you’d tell me if you
    came across it lying round.

    The moral to this story
    is keep your lunches under locks:
    The fridge will send your sandwich
    where the dryer sends your socks.

  30. I wrote this quite a few years ago and it’s not exactly “geeky” (though what geek doesn’t like food and appliances?) but I thought I’d share it.

    I had a turkey sandwich —
    by type a submarine;
    it covered all four food groups,
    bread veggies cheese protein.

    I thought that I would stash it
    safely in refrigerator,
    kept nice and fresh and crispy cool
    for when I came back later.

    What is pray tell that saying
    about best-made plans laid waste?
    For I feel the worst has happened:
    it befell another’s taste.

    Yes ’tis true my turkey sub
    is nowhere to be found.
    I trust you’d tell me if you
    came across it lying round.

    The moral to this story
    is keep your lunches under locks:
    The fridge will send your sandwich
    where the dryer sends your socks.

  31. Brian H

    Estel

    Anonymity cloaks you well,
    beware it does not enslave you
    ‘ere you age another day.
    Your name will be known
    by lord and servant,
    laying a legacy of hope
    that rivals your forefathers.

    Hidden for years, too long,
    ill at ease with your countenance,
    do you evade the gaze
    of yourself or of The Enemy?
    Doubt always trails you,
    gnawing resolve and endurance,
    like a faceless wight.

    Grim you have become
    in the eyes of friends,
    too rarely does your face
    relax in the throes of levity;
    feel pity for us all,
    for those that witness it,
    truly see the face of a King.

    Cast aside now all hesitation,
    there is but one path
    left for you to tread.
    Ride fast, walk far, endure,
    strength, will and compassion
    shall carry you to your destiny,
    completion of all our hopes.

    Neither the living
    nor the dead
    shall hold any dread,
    or raise any barrier against you.
    Fear not temptation of The Enemy,
    for you are of the blood of The Faithful,
    who held true the ideals of Numenor.

    Rise for me now,
    oh hero’s son.
    Stand forth, anew.
    From the cold comfort
    of the days long shadows,
    to blind the world
    with the sunlight in your heart.

  32. Brian H

    Estel

    Anonymity cloaks you well,
    beware it does not enslave you
    ‘ere you age another day.
    Your name will be known
    by lord and servant,
    laying a legacy of hope
    that rivals your forefathers.

    Hidden for years, too long,
    ill at ease with your countenance,
    do you evade the gaze
    of yourself or of The Enemy?
    Doubt always trails you,
    gnawing resolve and endurance,
    like a faceless wight.

    Grim you have become
    in the eyes of friends,
    too rarely does your face
    relax in the throes of levity;
    feel pity for us all,
    for those that witness it,
    truly see the face of a King.

    Cast aside now all hesitation,
    there is but one path
    left for you to tread.
    Ride fast, walk far, endure,
    strength, will and compassion
    shall carry you to your destiny,
    completion of all our hopes.

    Neither the living
    nor the dead
    shall hold any dread,
    or raise any barrier against you.
    Fear not temptation of The Enemy,
    for you are of the blood of The Faithful,
    who held true the ideals of Numenor.

    Rise for me now,
    oh hero’s son.
    Stand forth, anew.
    From the cold comfort
    of the days long shadows,
    to blind the world
    with the sunlight in your heart.

  33. Allen H

    Once upon a time
    When knights were bold,
    Maidens chaste (!) and armour cold.

    Pastures were greener
    Hooligans meaner,
    Sword blades keener,
    In days of old.

    Jousting with lances
    Taking great chances
    Flaunting romances
    In days of old.

    Hit points were serious,
    Intrigues mysterious,
    You Bash the Balrog
    While I climb the tree!

    Airwaves were breezes,
    Fawlty Towers were plans,
    Mac not a burger but a name of your clan.

    Conventions were rules, fans hid your face,
    Klingons were rug rats, Worf was a place.
    In days of old.

  34. Allen H

    Once upon a time
    When knights were bold,
    Maidens chaste (!) and armour cold.

    Pastures were greener
    Hooligans meaner,
    Sword blades keener,
    In days of old.

    Jousting with lances
    Taking great chances
    Flaunting romances
    In days of old.

    Hit points were serious,
    Intrigues mysterious,
    You Bash the Balrog
    While I climb the tree!

    Airwaves were breezes,
    Fawlty Towers were plans,
    Mac not a burger but a name of your clan.

    Conventions were rules, fans hid your face,
    Klingons were rug rats, Worf was a place.
    In days of old.

  35. I Heard it in a Dream

    A silver throng of latent song,
    Where ballads fall from trees,
    And dance upon the ariose dawn,
    Cascading their reprise,

    I look beyond the sea of glass,
    Where dreams are wont to stray,
    And sit in thought, upon the grass,
    Of places far away,

    Of Flame and Shadow deftly vied,
    Denied his baneful throne,
    Of ancient dragon’s noble stride,
    In halls beneath the stone,

    The rising of a subtle fire,
    In fey celestial gleam,
    A melody upon a lyre,
    I heard it in a dream.

  36. I Heard it in a Dream

    A silver throng of latent song,
    Where ballads fall from trees,
    And dance upon the ariose dawn,
    Cascading their reprise,

    I look beyond the sea of glass,
    Where dreams are wont to stray,
    And sit in thought, upon the grass,
    Of places far away,

    Of Flame and Shadow deftly vied,
    Denied his baneful throne,
    Of ancient dragon’s noble stride,
    In halls beneath the stone,

    The rising of a subtle fire,
    In fey celestial gleam,
    A melody upon a lyre,
    I heard it in a dream.

  37. Dínen Estel

    Dínen estel, celeb uial,
    Elin or menel, alag gwai linnol,
    Eriol nin tinnu, nuin gwaith laer,
    Mi morn gwanu, athan i ear.

  38. Dínen Estel

    Dínen estel, celeb uial,
    Elin or menel, alag gwai linnol,
    Eriol nin tinnu, nuin gwaith laer,
    Mi morn gwanu, athan i ear.

  39. Mike Curiel

    The dirt lot is part of a library now
    The one that used to be
    A world of recess and mayhem
    When the tv show cameras
    Of live in-class and in-hallway moments turn off
    This lot’s airspace had never hosted
    Paper airplane exhibitions however
    Which stayed in fifth grade
    The wall-ball wall has vanished
    Where once the fat and purple faced kid
    Had you in a headlock
    So far away from the other side of the dirt lot
    Where you discovered
    That the beautiful girl
    Had actually thought the opposite thing
    Of what you remembered
    Leaving whatever it is you had brought to her attention
    More like a dead bird
    Than a present
    But at least the other kids
    Would never know
    That you’re first cd you ever owned
    Was Alvin and the chipmunks
    Singing Christmas songs
    While some kids
    Had even started to listen to bands like Tool
    While you were going to the midnight premiere
    Of star wars episode one
    With a plastic light saber in hand
    Nothing was as bad as last year though
    When everyone took the time
    To tell you that they were disappointed
    That you returned to their school
    After briefly moving away
    And the far away world of final fantasy seven
    On the first sony playstation
    Was in the far away world of after school
    Gym class would touch down on earth much before
    Alien presidential fitness to hang you from the bar
    Pullup-less again that year
    In front of everyone on a nice day
    But today it’s an empty library
    Too big for this small town
    Which was too small for me
    So I moved far away
    Right after highschool

  40. Mike Curiel

    The dirt lot is part of a library now
    The one that used to be
    A world of recess and mayhem
    When the tv show cameras
    Of live in-class and in-hallway moments turn off
    This lot’s airspace had never hosted
    Paper airplane exhibitions however
    Which stayed in fifth grade
    The wall-ball wall has vanished
    Where once the fat and purple faced kid
    Had you in a headlock
    So far away from the other side of the dirt lot
    Where you discovered
    That the beautiful girl
    Had actually thought the opposite thing
    Of what you remembered
    Leaving whatever it is you had brought to her attention
    More like a dead bird
    Than a present
    But at least the other kids
    Would never know
    That you’re first cd you ever owned
    Was Alvin and the chipmunks
    Singing Christmas songs
    While some kids
    Had even started to listen to bands like Tool
    While you were going to the midnight premiere
    Of star wars episode one
    With a plastic light saber in hand
    Nothing was as bad as last year though
    When everyone took the time
    To tell you that they were disappointed
    That you returned to their school
    After briefly moving away
    And the far away world of final fantasy seven
    On the first sony playstation
    Was in the far away world of after school
    Gym class would touch down on earth much before
    Alien presidential fitness to hang you from the bar
    Pullup-less again that year
    In front of everyone on a nice day
    But today it’s an empty library
    Too big for this small town
    Which was too small for me
    So I moved far away
    Right after highschool

  41. Morna King

    Harry Dresden knows
    the Sword of Damocles cuts
    those who would harm him.

  42. Morna King

    Harry Dresden knows
    the Sword of Damocles cuts
    those who would harm him.

  43. In actual Quenya:

    I LANTA ONDOLINDËO

    Ai! Vanwa Ondolindë, anvanima,
    anna Ulmo i Noldonnar;
    lantalda nánë i tyel.

    Hallë harant máhtanë; kále mórenna.
    Ecthelion Ehtelëo kolië taura hyandorya;
    Kosomot Valarauko váitaina ló nárli;
    rúkimavë harnë i atta, lencanë i undumessë.

    Á naina an i lanta Noldoron.

    translation to english:

    THE FALL OF GONDOLIN

    Ah! Lost Gondolin, the most full of beauty,
    Ulmo’s present to the Noldor;
    thy fall brought the end.

    Two high lords at battle; light against darkness.
    Ecthelion of the Fountain wielding his powerful sword;
    Gothmog the Balrog surrounded by flame;
    both terribly wounded, were lost into the abyss.

    Weep for the fall of the Noldor.

  44. In actual Quenya:

    I LANTA ONDOLINDËO

    Ai! Vanwa Ondolindë, anvanima,
    anna Ulmo i Noldonnar;
    lantalda nánë i tyel.

    Hallë harant máhtanë; kále mórenna.
    Ecthelion Ehtelëo kolië taura hyandorya;
    Kosomot Valarauko váitaina ló nárli;
    rúkimavë harnë i atta, lencanë i undumessë.

    Á naina an i lanta Noldoron.

    translation to english:

    THE FALL OF GONDOLIN

    Ah! Lost Gondolin, the most full of beauty,
    Ulmo’s present to the Noldor;
    thy fall brought the end.

    Two high lords at battle; light against darkness.
    Ecthelion of the Fountain wielding his powerful sword;
    Gothmog the Balrog surrounded by flame;
    both terribly wounded, were lost into the abyss.

    Weep for the fall of the Noldor.

  45. A Randland Resident, to his (ex)-lover.

    Shall I compare you to an Aes Sedai?
    You have no thought for anything outside.
    Your ivory tower reaches to the sky,
    Your memories are long, your reach is wide.
    Your men, like warders, fight and don’t complain
    Though following your orders mean their death.
    We have to weigh each of your words like grain,
    For without lies you change the truth each breath.
    Your channeling is weak, your will is lax.
    Your stark manipulation leaves us wroth.
    You’d have us think that you’ll spin gold from flax.
    But all we get are half-truths, and rough cloth.
    You’ll never have my trust, my will’s my own,
    I’ll live my life. You’ll always be alone.

  46. A Randland Resident, to his (ex)-lover.

    Shall I compare you to an Aes Sedai?
    You have no thought for anything outside.
    Your ivory tower reaches to the sky,
    Your memories are long, your reach is wide.
    Your men, like warders, fight and don’t complain
    Though following your orders mean their death.
    We have to weigh each of your words like grain,
    For without lies you change the truth each breath.
    Your channeling is weak, your will is lax.
    Your stark manipulation leaves us wroth.
    You’d have us think that you’ll spin gold from flax.
    But all we get are half-truths, and rough cloth.
    You’ll never have my trust, my will’s my own,
    I’ll live my life. You’ll always be alone.

  47. jimmy H

    From the spray of the mist, beyond the eye of the world

    He leaves a trail of life and death

    Now, standing on his grave for all to see, certain of the hereafter

    The dragon lets out a bellowing breath, finally showing his laughter

  48. jimmy H

    From the spray of the mist, beyond the eye of the world

    He leaves a trail of life and death

    Now, standing on his grave for all to see, certain of the hereafter

    The dragon lets out a bellowing breath, finally showing his laughter

  49. Unexplained Phenomena

    Are there UFO’s and aliens
    So-called abductees claim to meet?
    Is there a Sasquatch in the woods
    And what size are his feet?
    Is there such a beast as Nessie
    With her long and graceful neck?
    And does she play the bagpipes
    In the waters of Loch Ness?
    What can we hold responsible
    For crop circles in the night?
    In this realm of normalcy
    Are there really ghosts and poltergeists?
    From parallel dimensions
    To psychics solving crimes.
    From JFK to Jimmy Hoffa
    These are the mysteries of our times.
    Still they’re paled by a question
    Into which we’ve yet to delve:
    Why are buns in packs of eight
    But hot dogs come in twelve?

  50. Unexplained Phenomena

    Are there UFO’s and aliens
    So-called abductees claim to meet?
    Is there a Sasquatch in the woods
    And what size are his feet?
    Is there such a beast as Nessie
    With her long and graceful neck?
    And does she play the bagpipes
    In the waters of Loch Ness?
    What can we hold responsible
    For crop circles in the night?
    In this realm of normalcy
    Are there really ghosts and poltergeists?
    From parallel dimensions
    To psychics solving crimes.
    From JFK to Jimmy Hoffa
    These are the mysteries of our times.
    Still they’re paled by a question
    Into which we’ve yet to delve:
    Why are buns in packs of eight
    But hot dogs come in twelve?

  51. A Haiku Inspired by Tolkien’s Middle-earth

    Fair Folk from Faerie,
    Land full of Perils unknown,
    Call me, “Come hither!”

  52. A Haiku Inspired by Tolkien’s Middle-earth

    Fair Folk from Faerie,
    Land full of Perils unknown,
    Call me, “Come hither!”

  53. There once was an Elf wizard from Nan’tucket
    Whose wife went after his wand with a hatchet
    She accused him of inappropriate play
    With the other local Fey
    And he woefully claims to this day never to have found a new rod that can match it

  54. There once was an Elf wizard from Nan’tucket
    Whose wife went after his wand with a hatchet
    She accused him of inappropriate play
    With the other local Fey
    And he woefully claims to this day never to have found a new rod that can match it

  55. Fairy Candles

    In the place of loves last longing
    limbs cling like roots on mossy beds

    Fairy Candles in the forest
    float above long flowing skirts

    Hems of green etch the jackets
    velvet gowns, chestnut colored

    Swirl like leaves about to fall
    breathing in the last of summer

    We harvest in the ripened roses
    ball up the faded dying vines

    Gather all the greens of summer
    shroud the earth in grey and yellow

    Marching in the calling moonlight
    through the thickets of the thornbush

    Before the fretted frosts of winter
    drape the world in cloaks of snow

    Wrap all the naked limbs in ice
    silence settles in the umbles

    Much is lost but not unthought of
    when we remove this misty land

    Travel in our water carvers
    to live among the long forgotten

  56. Fairy Candles

    In the place of loves last longing
    limbs cling like roots on mossy beds

    Fairy Candles in the forest
    float above long flowing skirts

    Hems of green etch the jackets
    velvet gowns, chestnut colored

    Swirl like leaves about to fall
    breathing in the last of summer

    We harvest in the ripened roses
    ball up the faded dying vines

    Gather all the greens of summer
    shroud the earth in grey and yellow

    Marching in the calling moonlight
    through the thickets of the thornbush

    Before the fretted frosts of winter
    drape the world in cloaks of snow

    Wrap all the naked limbs in ice
    silence settles in the umbles

    Much is lost but not unthought of
    when we remove this misty land

    Travel in our water carvers
    to live among the long forgotten

  57. “Evony Ecstasy”

    Hear me Furstin and Prinzessin,
    Hoarders of the Rose of War.
    Ye of amulets incessant,
    No alliance to be sworn,
    Golden sweat, noobies threat,
    And your pocket never shaken —
    GIVE
    the poor
    a break!

    I’ll be Earl before the morrow
    Though I haven’t slept since March.
    Half my resources on escrow,
    this new Host thinks he’s Monarch!
    Farming, farming, RED BIRD, farming
    Two more scoops of mint ice cream.
    My new ‘best’ friend quests from England,
    Canada, my enemy.

    I don’t buy myself a title;
    Honor bars me from triumph.
    Making top twenty is vital.
    Maybe next week I’ll sign off…

  58. “Evony Ecstasy”

    Hear me Furstin and Prinzessin,
    Hoarders of the Rose of War.
    Ye of amulets incessant,
    No alliance to be sworn,
    Golden sweat, noobies threat,
    And your pocket never shaken —
    GIVE
    the poor
    a break!

    I’ll be Earl before the morrow
    Though I haven’t slept since March.
    Half my resources on escrow,
    this new Host thinks he’s Monarch!
    Farming, farming, RED BIRD, farming
    Two more scoops of mint ice cream.
    My new ‘best’ friend quests from England,
    Canada, my enemy.

    I don’t buy myself a title;
    Honor bars me from triumph.
    Making top twenty is vital.
    Maybe next week I’ll sign off…

  59. Scott Smith

    Godzilla rages.
    Destroys downtown Tokyo.
    All children scream.

    Japanese Army
    Think they can stop Godzilla.
    Silly Japanese.

    Godzilla! screams man,
    As the giant lizard stomps
    On the innocent.

    Bang! army brought tanks.
    Godzilla swats misslies down.
    No tanks are a match.

    Godzilla breathes fire.
    Amazing feat of science,
    These burning buildings.

    King Ghidorah strikes.
    Godzilla’s oldest foe, fight!
    Godzilla pwnage!

  60. Scott Smith

    Godzilla rages.
    Destroys downtown Tokyo.
    All children scream.

    Japanese Army
    Think they can stop Godzilla.
    Silly Japanese.

    Godzilla! screams man,
    As the giant lizard stomps
    On the innocent.

    Bang! army brought tanks.
    Godzilla swats misslies down.
    No tanks are a match.

    Godzilla breathes fire.
    Amazing feat of science,
    These burning buildings.

    King Ghidorah strikes.
    Godzilla’s oldest foe, fight!
    Godzilla pwnage!

  61. Scott Smith

    Masters of Voodoo,
    Raise dead bodies from the ground.
    Scary zombies rise!

    They are creeping near,
    The terrible zombies you
    Must, must learn to fear.

    A beautiful day,
    Zombies all covered in blood.
    Brains! the zombies moan.

    Citizens ready
    Shotguns, chainsaws, explosives.
    Undead shamble closer.

    Zombies are not much
    Of a threat, so slow they move.
    Only head shots kill.

    The first shot is fired.
    A zombie’s head exlpodes, Boom!
    Grandpa! shouts Timmy.

    Zombies breaks fence.
    Starts infecting without pause.
    Will Smith kills his dog.

    Threat almost over.
    Suddenly, fast zombies break in.
    Screams in enclosed space.

    Small area. Low
    Chances for survivors to
    Make it out alive.

    Complete destruction.
    All humanity is dead.
    Zombies take over.

  62. Scott Smith

    Masters of Voodoo,
    Raise dead bodies from the ground.
    Scary zombies rise!

    They are creeping near,
    The terrible zombies you
    Must, must learn to fear.

    A beautiful day,
    Zombies all covered in blood.
    Brains! the zombies moan.

    Citizens ready
    Shotguns, chainsaws, explosives.
    Undead shamble closer.

    Zombies are not much
    Of a threat, so slow they move.
    Only head shots kill.

    The first shot is fired.
    A zombie’s head exlpodes, Boom!
    Grandpa! shouts Timmy.

    Zombies breaks fence.
    Starts infecting without pause.
    Will Smith kills his dog.

    Threat almost over.
    Suddenly, fast zombies break in.
    Screams in enclosed space.

    Small area. Low
    Chances for survivors to
    Make it out alive.

    Complete destruction.
    All humanity is dead.
    Zombies take over.

  63. Scott Smith

    Ninja disappears,
    Turns invisible like ghost!
    Where is ninja now?

    Ninja can transform.
    Transform into many things!
    Ninja is log now.

    Ninja fast like wind.
    Whoosh! goes amazing ninja.
    You can’t catch Ninja!

    Ninja enigma,
    Never know who is Ninja…
    He is not Ninja.

    Ninja good with sword.
    Shink! Whoosh! Swing! Clank! Stab! Slice! Bang!
    Also good with guns.

    Women like Ninja.
    Ninja has many girlfriends.
    Irresistible!

    Ninja is friendly,
    Ninja likes long walks on beach.
    And intimate talks.

    Samurai attacks!
    Ninja’s oldest, greatest foe!
    Ninja always wins.

  64. Scott Smith

    Ninja disappears,
    Turns invisible like ghost!
    Where is ninja now?

    Ninja can transform.
    Transform into many things!
    Ninja is log now.

    Ninja fast like wind.
    Whoosh! goes amazing ninja.
    You can’t catch Ninja!

    Ninja enigma,
    Never know who is Ninja…
    He is not Ninja.

    Ninja good with sword.
    Shink! Whoosh! Swing! Clank! Stab! Slice! Bang!
    Also good with guns.

    Women like Ninja.
    Ninja has many girlfriends.
    Irresistible!

    Ninja is friendly,
    Ninja likes long walks on beach.
    And intimate talks.

    Samurai attacks!
    Ninja’s oldest, greatest foe!
    Ninja always wins.

  65. A Hobbit’s Encouragement

    Dark are the times you’ve come to see,
    Mindless ruffians travel through the Shire and Bree.
    They want to decay the roots and poison the land,
    But you must endure and stand! Stand! Stand!
    Don’t let them get the best of you,
    Your heart will surely pull you through.
    Out of the darkness and into the light,
    Stand up for what is right, against the orcs of the world-
    It’s worth the fight.

    -Matthew Montelione

  66. A Hobbit’s Encouragement

    Dark are the times you’ve come to see,
    Mindless ruffians travel through the Shire and Bree.
    They want to decay the roots and poison the land,
    But you must endure and stand! Stand! Stand!
    Don’t let them get the best of you,
    Your heart will surely pull you through.
    Out of the darkness and into the light,
    Stand up for what is right, against the orcs of the world-
    It’s worth the fight.

    -Matthew Montelione

  67. Carolyn Jones

    A Hole Is…

    A hole is a hole is a
    Hobbit’s true dream:
    Dug in and snug
    With a bubbling stream.
    Leafy shade over,
    Grass all around,
    Window’s a’plenty
    And a door in the round.

    Houses all filled
    With things old and things new,
    And not to forget…
    A mathom or two!
    Here Sam and his Gaffer
    And Goldie and Rose
    Lived out thier lives
    Upon Bagshot Row.

    But these holes are diff’rent-
    You have to look close:
    There’s something new
    Behind the lamppost.
    Something shiny and bright
    In rows laid so neat–
    All aimed to the south:
    They’ve got solar heat!

    The above was written MANY years ago, for my father, (also a Tolkien fan,) who was a mechanical engineer and was interested in the beginnings of the eco movement.

  68. Carolyn Jones

    A Hole Is…

    A hole is a hole is a
    Hobbit’s true dream:
    Dug in and snug
    With a bubbling stream.
    Leafy shade over,
    Grass all around,
    Window’s a’plenty
    And a door in the round.

    Houses all filled
    With things old and things new,
    And not to forget…
    A mathom or two!
    Here Sam and his Gaffer
    And Goldie and Rose
    Lived out thier lives
    Upon Bagshot Row.

    But these holes are diff’rent-
    You have to look close:
    There’s something new
    Behind the lamppost.
    Something shiny and bright
    In rows laid so neat–
    All aimed to the south:
    They’ve got solar heat!

    The above was written MANY years ago, for my father, (also a Tolkien fan,) who was a mechanical engineer and was interested in the beginnings of the eco movement.

  69. A Series of Haiku on Remus Lupin from Harry Potter
    By Nadia Wheeler, do not use without permission please. Thanks! :-)

    “The Prisoner of Azkaban”
    Your eyes reflect moon.
    It isn’t full. You sigh, sleep,
    Not a wolf. Tonight…

    Your eyes burn with sun.
    You’re rejected, jobless, but
    Still find hope in life.

    Your eyes, teary stars.
    The heavens whisper: “I know
    Plans I have for you.”

    Barn owl at night.
    Loopy writing, acceptance,
    To teach Hogwarts school

    Some feel degraded,
    Riding the school train to work.
    You accept with grace.

    The darkness falls cold.
    Demented, Harry falls, cries,
    You drive it away.

    The moon is full. No….
    Heart rends…eyes burn…cry dies…
    Into a wolf’s howl.

    You reject yourself
    Still accepted. Dumbledore…
    “Good bye then Remus.”

    “Goblet of Fire”
    You’re feared, used to it.
    Now two friends are free
    But one should have died.

    A scratch at the door
    The bearlike dog comes in, pants
    And tells Harry’s tale.

    Choose what is right,
    Or what is easy? You smile.
    Easy? Never. Right!

    “Order of the Pheonix”
    Back to The Order.
    You see…pink hair. Smile Tonks.
    Smile into my heart.

    “Nymphadora…” “TONKS!”
    You smile. What could you call her?
    Beloved? Not now…

    Veil flaps closed. “Harry,
    He’s…he’s….” “NOT DEAD!” If only…
    You hold Harry. Dead…

  70. A Series of Haiku on Remus Lupin from Harry Potter
    By Nadia Wheeler, do not use without permission please. Thanks! :-)

    “The Prisoner of Azkaban”
    Your eyes reflect moon.
    It isn’t full. You sigh, sleep,
    Not a wolf. Tonight…

    Your eyes burn with sun.
    You’re rejected, jobless, but
    Still find hope in life.

    Your eyes, teary stars.
    The heavens whisper: “I know
    Plans I have for you.”

    Barn owl at night.
    Loopy writing, acceptance,
    To teach Hogwarts school

    Some feel degraded,
    Riding the school train to work.
    You accept with grace.

    The darkness falls cold.
    Demented, Harry falls, cries,
    You drive it away.

    The moon is full. No….
    Heart rends…eyes burn…cry dies…
    Into a wolf’s howl.

    You reject yourself
    Still accepted. Dumbledore…
    “Good bye then Remus.”

    “Goblet of Fire”
    You’re feared, used to it.
    Now two friends are free
    But one should have died.

    A scratch at the door
    The bearlike dog comes in, pants
    And tells Harry’s tale.

    Choose what is right,
    Or what is easy? You smile.
    Easy? Never. Right!

    “Order of the Pheonix”
    Back to The Order.
    You see…pink hair. Smile Tonks.
    Smile into my heart.

    “Nymphadora…” “TONKS!”
    You smile. What could you call her?
    Beloved? Not now…

    Veil flaps closed. “Harry,
    He’s…he’s….” “NOT DEAD!” If only…
    You hold Harry. Dead…

  71. Come and listen to a story about a hobbit named Baggins
    A poor Shire lad, never dreamed of dragons
    Then one day he was thinking of some food,
    and knocking at his door came a group of short dudes.

    Dwarves that is, the little people, Durin’s folk.

    Well the first thing you know ol Bilbos on a quest,
    Riddled with Gollum, stole the ring, passed the test.
    Dwarves said “Lonely Mountain is the place you ought to be”
    So they fled goblin clutches and went to Mirkwood’s trees.

    Forest, that is. Giant spiders, wood elves.

    Well now it was time to fight the dragon with Thorin and all his kin.
    But when Bard slew Smaug, the dwarves wouldn’t share a thing.
    Five armies came to war in their locality
    To make a claim on dwarven hospitality.

    Treasure that is. Read the book, Give it to someone else.

    Y’all read the sequels now, y’hear?.

  72. Come and listen to a story about a hobbit named Baggins
    A poor Shire lad, never dreamed of dragons
    Then one day he was thinking of some food,
    and knocking at his door came a group of short dudes.

    Dwarves that is, the little people, Durin’s folk.

    Well the first thing you know ol Bilbos on a quest,
    Riddled with Gollum, stole the ring, passed the test.
    Dwarves said “Lonely Mountain is the place you ought to be”
    So they fled goblin clutches and went to Mirkwood’s trees.

    Forest, that is. Giant spiders, wood elves.

    Well now it was time to fight the dragon with Thorin and all his kin.
    But when Bard slew Smaug, the dwarves wouldn’t share a thing.
    Five armies came to war in their locality
    To make a claim on dwarven hospitality.

    Treasure that is. Read the book, Give it to someone else.

    Y’all read the sequels now, y’hear?.

  73. Betty Widerski

    In the collected Child ballads the story of Binnorie, or The Two Sisters, tells the tale of a jealous older sister who drowns the younger sister to steal her boyfriend. In the original, a bard finds the bones of the dead girl and makes a harp from her ribs. When the bard and harp come to the king’s hall the harp spontaneously cries out to reveal the evil sister’s deed.

    In my modernized version, we hear the tale from the boyfriend’s side, and the revealing current technology:

    Binnorie

    They said, “There’s been an accident”
    your true love’s drowned in the river.
    Her sister cried “you poor soul!”
    And treated me so kind.

    Her sister tried her hardest
    to woo me from my sorrow
    She seemed so kind ’twas simpler
    to take her hand instead.

    They never found my true love
    but near the place she perished
    a jogger found her iphone
    engraved from me to her.

    That kind soul checked its contents
    while looking for the owner.
    But what he found surprised him
    And shook him to the bone.

    Soon after at a party
    Announcing our engagement
    Friends toasting our good fortune
    transcending our sad loss.

    A stranger came up to us
    and said “I bear a message!
    Your true love’s dying message
    recorded on this phone”

    The room was shocked to silence
    All waiting for the message
    He pushed the keypad neatly
    The phone began to play

    The soundtrack to a movie
    of swans down by the river.
    Surprisingly the first words
    Were in her sister’s voice

    “It’s not fair!” cried her sister
    “That you should have that boyo
    I’m older and more comely –
    he should have chosen me!”

    “But if you’re gone from his life
    Then *I* can woo his sorrow”
    A sound of struggle, phone drops
    A scream and then a splash. (PAUSE)

    All eyes turned to her sister
    revealed an evil schemer.
    She screamed, threw champagne at me
    And bolted for the door.

    So now I wander lonely
    My true love’s phone remaining
    a souvenir of sorrow
    and jealousy unleashed

    (CC licensing – Attribution Non-commercial No Derivatives )

  74. Betty Widerski

    In the collected Child ballads the story of Binnorie, or The Two Sisters, tells the tale of a jealous older sister who drowns the younger sister to steal her boyfriend. In the original, a bard finds the bones of the dead girl and makes a harp from her ribs. When the bard and harp come to the king’s hall the harp spontaneously cries out to reveal the evil sister’s deed.

    In my modernized version, we hear the tale from the boyfriend’s side, and the revealing current technology:

    Binnorie

    They said, “There’s been an accident”
    your true love’s drowned in the river.
    Her sister cried “you poor soul!”
    And treated me so kind.

    Her sister tried her hardest
    to woo me from my sorrow
    She seemed so kind ’twas simpler
    to take her hand instead.

    They never found my true love
    but near the place she perished
    a jogger found her iphone
    engraved from me to her.

    That kind soul checked its contents
    while looking for the owner.
    But what he found surprised him
    And shook him to the bone.

    Soon after at a party
    Announcing our engagement
    Friends toasting our good fortune
    transcending our sad loss.

    A stranger came up to us
    and said “I bear a message!
    Your true love’s dying message
    recorded on this phone”

    The room was shocked to silence
    All waiting for the message
    He pushed the keypad neatly
    The phone began to play

    The soundtrack to a movie
    of swans down by the river.
    Surprisingly the first words
    Were in her sister’s voice

    “It’s not fair!” cried her sister
    “That you should have that boyo
    I’m older and more comely –
    he should have chosen me!”

    “But if you’re gone from his life
    Then *I* can woo his sorrow”
    A sound of struggle, phone drops
    A scream and then a splash. (PAUSE)

    All eyes turned to her sister
    revealed an evil schemer.
    She screamed, threw champagne at me
    And bolted for the door.

    So now I wander lonely
    My true love’s phone remaining
    a souvenir of sorrow
    and jealousy unleashed

    (CC licensing – Attribution Non-commercial No Derivatives )

  75. Hi,

    Not sure if your competition is still going but thought the following almost haiku might be appropriate.

    An Immortal’s Lament

    We will never see
    a lifetime warranty
    for immortality

    Enjoy.

  76. Hi,

    Not sure if your competition is still going but thought the following almost haiku might be appropriate.

    An Immortal’s Lament

    We will never see
    a lifetime warranty
    for immortality

    Enjoy.

  77. Bob Edinger

    Haiku on World Peace

    Dream in fantasy
    Fight with just pixels and dice
    World in harmony

  78. Bob Edinger

    Haiku on World Peace

    Dream in fantasy
    Fight with just pixels and dice
    World in harmony

  79. A couple of poemy things from my upcoming book Gothistocrats: The Lords of Pretention

    True Gothistocrats:

    We live in a new age.

    Supposedly an age of reason

    Certainly an age of multiculturalism

    Where everyone is right and no one is wrong

    Where the greatest crime of all is to hold a prejudice

    However

    This does not change who we are

    We are the Gothistocrats

    The one true Clique of goth

    We are not Crowleys: swishing around in capes casting “spells:” They are not goth

    We are not Freaks: slinking in the shadows away from judgemental eyes: They are not goth

    We are not the Grungies: lowering ourselves to the level of beasts: They are not goth

    We are not the Moshers: all bravado and coarse vulgarity: The are not goth

    We are not the Perkies: all smiles and hugs: They are not goth

    We are not the Pretentious Art Whores: whining about artistic talent we don’t possess: They are not goth

    We are not the Indy Cliques: all exoticism and not enough fundamentals: They are not goth

    We are not the Batshit: we don’t believe in the absurd concept of freedom: They are not goth

    And we are most certainly not the Sparklers: Don’t get us started on how they are not goth

    No we, my friends, are the Gothistocrats

    It is up to each and every one of you to uphold our honour

    And if that involves holding a prejudice

    Dismissing a fool by virtue of his Clique

    Then so be it

    Confused:

    Yes I know

    It’s all so complicated

    It’s all so confusing

    First you have to deal with the fact you’re a Bloodsucker and what that means

    Then a part of a wider society and all that entails

    But most of all child

    Most important of all

    You must learn your Clique and your place in it.

    You are most fortunate

    Unlike certain other parties the Gothistocrats are well organised

    We have a clear and simple structure

    Learn your place

    Fill it well

    And one day maybe

    Just maybe

    You’ll be Lord

    And you’ll be sitting where I’m sitting now

    Telling younglings

    Sitting where you’re sitting now

    What I have just told you

  80. A couple of poemy things from my upcoming book Gothistocrats: The Lords of Pretention

    True Gothistocrats:

    We live in a new age.

    Supposedly an age of reason

    Certainly an age of multiculturalism

    Where everyone is right and no one is wrong

    Where the greatest crime of all is to hold a prejudice

    However

    This does not change who we are

    We are the Gothistocrats

    The one true Clique of goth

    We are not Crowleys: swishing around in capes casting “spells:” They are not goth

    We are not Freaks: slinking in the shadows away from judgemental eyes: They are not goth

    We are not the Grungies: lowering ourselves to the level of beasts: They are not goth

    We are not the Moshers: all bravado and coarse vulgarity: The are not goth

    We are not the Perkies: all smiles and hugs: They are not goth

    We are not the Pretentious Art Whores: whining about artistic talent we don’t possess: They are not goth

    We are not the Indy Cliques: all exoticism and not enough fundamentals: They are not goth

    We are not the Batshit: we don’t believe in the absurd concept of freedom: They are not goth

    And we are most certainly not the Sparklers: Don’t get us started on how they are not goth

    No we, my friends, are the Gothistocrats

    It is up to each and every one of you to uphold our honour

    And if that involves holding a prejudice

    Dismissing a fool by virtue of his Clique

    Then so be it

    Confused:

    Yes I know

    It’s all so complicated

    It’s all so confusing

    First you have to deal with the fact you’re a Bloodsucker and what that means

    Then a part of a wider society and all that entails

    But most of all child

    Most important of all

    You must learn your Clique and your place in it.

    You are most fortunate

    Unlike certain other parties the Gothistocrats are well organised

    We have a clear and simple structure

    Learn your place

    Fill it well

    And one day maybe

    Just maybe

    You’ll be Lord

    And you’ll be sitting where I’m sitting now

    Telling younglings

    Sitting where you’re sitting now

    What I have just told you

  81. Sir Josh

    It paints the grandest picture of them all.
    “Glory” it, whispers,” “Freedom!” is cries.
    It only wants the chains to fall.
    It is the eyes that see land; it is the dragon that flies in the sky.
    It is the hero that charges the battlefield with a battle cry; it is even the Heroine in distress.
    It is the beautiful maiden in blue silk dress.

    It can even turn simple colors into fantasy.
    The color grey turns into a castle
    Green into green fields to trot
    The color pure blue and fire orange into a river and a sunset to reflect an awe.
    And the thought of it all, becomes my reality .

    It is here the finale battle is thought of, hardly fought.
    However, the true battle was setting it free.
    It is the grandest painting of them all.
    It is, my imagination
    And it only wants, the chains to fall.

  82. Sir Josh

    It paints the grandest picture of them all.
    “Glory” it, whispers,” “Freedom!” is cries.
    It only wants the chains to fall.
    It is the eyes that see land; it is the dragon that flies in the sky.
    It is the hero that charges the battlefield with a battle cry; it is even the Heroine in distress.
    It is the beautiful maiden in blue silk dress.

    It can even turn simple colors into fantasy.
    The color grey turns into a castle
    Green into green fields to trot
    The color pure blue and fire orange into a river and a sunset to reflect an awe.
    And the thought of it all, becomes my reality .

    It is here the finale battle is thought of, hardly fought.
    However, the true battle was setting it free.
    It is the grandest painting of them all.
    It is, my imagination
    And it only wants, the chains to fall.

  83. Ken aka Mirimaran

    A tribute to the Rankin/Bass cartoon of “The Hobbit”.

    Hooked
    ————

    On a warm Spring eve many moons ago
    I found a land that you all know
    a land of hobbits, dragons, and elves
    of stout men and dwarves longing for lost delves
    a land rich in lore and full of song
    from the first it made my heart long
    for magic woods and looming peaks
    and one Lonely Mountain in the distance bleak
    where dwelled a Dragon from the Northern Wastes
    all of this suited my tastes
    for a boy with imagination to spare
    who sat entranced as Bilbo entered the lair
    of one Gollum, who played Riddle games
    who in the end would forever blame
    Baggins, thief and liar
    accidental visitor from the Shire
    who met Trolls and fought with spiders
    cried Attercop and was named Barrel-rider
    wielded Sting from the days of yore
    which made me want more and more
    from that ‘toon by Rankin-Bass
    whose fond memory will never pass
    I was invited by one Grey Wizard
    to come hither and entered
    Middle-earth, her lands opened wide
    home again, I strolled inside
    and remain always with elves and Rangers
    our brave hobbits, facing dangers
    so great I couldn’t bear to turn the page
    but yet I did, ready to face orcish rage
    and blow the Horn of Gondor
    and do so much more
    so many adventures are still in store
    for a man who first met hobbits one long ago spring eve
    and for a boy who just wanted to believe….

  84. Ken aka Mirimaran

    A tribute to the Rankin/Bass cartoon of “The Hobbit”.

    Hooked
    ————

    On a warm Spring eve many moons ago
    I found a land that you all know
    a land of hobbits, dragons, and elves
    of stout men and dwarves longing for lost delves
    a land rich in lore and full of song
    from the first it made my heart long
    for magic woods and looming peaks
    and one Lonely Mountain in the distance bleak
    where dwelled a Dragon from the Northern Wastes
    all of this suited my tastes
    for a boy with imagination to spare
    who sat entranced as Bilbo entered the lair
    of one Gollum, who played Riddle games
    who in the end would forever blame
    Baggins, thief and liar
    accidental visitor from the Shire
    who met Trolls and fought with spiders
    cried Attercop and was named Barrel-rider
    wielded Sting from the days of yore
    which made me want more and more
    from that ‘toon by Rankin-Bass
    whose fond memory will never pass
    I was invited by one Grey Wizard
    to come hither and entered
    Middle-earth, her lands opened wide
    home again, I strolled inside
    and remain always with elves and Rangers
    our brave hobbits, facing dangers
    so great I couldn’t bear to turn the page
    but yet I did, ready to face orcish rage
    and blow the Horn of Gondor
    and do so much more
    so many adventures are still in store
    for a man who first met hobbits one long ago spring eve
    and for a boy who just wanted to believe….

  85. Battle of the Hornburg

    Ten thousand beasts in the bodies of men,
    Marched towards the old but mighty den,
    In which one thousand would valiantly defend,
    For their lives and peace in their country once again,
    They met at the wall, exchanging arrows then and then,
    Alas, began the storm and rain which would never end,
    Impend! Offend!
    Came the orders, and the men drew their makeshift swords,
    As the beasts climbed ladders and invaded in hoards,
    The defence was outnumbered and there fell an elf friend,
    And down below the wall broke, smashed by foreign folk,
    So the monsters poured in and the defence to retreat to the keep,
    Where the women and children worried and could only weep,
    Amend! Defend!

    The trolls battered the gates and crushed those behind,
    As the rest fell back to the caves that shone, confined,
    On the bridge where dwarf, elf and man used all their brawn,
    Yet the sun’s rising made all the beasts blind,
    And they did not know who came from behind,
    And to the men’s delight, the night had withdrawn,
    Light! Dawn!
    Came the cries as help came galloping from over the hill,
    Horse warriors who were once lost, riding, their place to fulfil,
    Led by the white wizard whose light was of monster’s scorn,
    There the fearless fled, and the hopeless cheered, no longer in dread,
    Then the remaining ran away but were met with a strange forest,
    Trees from far away which didn’t treated the deserters’ like a guest,
    They had battled throughout the night; no survivor could stifle a yawn.

  86. Battle of the Hornburg

    Ten thousand beasts in the bodies of men,
    Marched towards the old but mighty den,
    In which one thousand would valiantly defend,
    For their lives and peace in their country once again,
    They met at the wall, exchanging arrows then and then,
    Alas, began the storm and rain which would never end,
    Impend! Offend!
    Came the orders, and the men drew their makeshift swords,
    As the beasts climbed ladders and invaded in hoards,
    The defence was outnumbered and there fell an elf friend,
    And down below the wall broke, smashed by foreign folk,
    So the monsters poured in and the defence to retreat to the keep,
    Where the women and children worried and could only weep,
    Amend! Defend!

    The trolls battered the gates and crushed those behind,
    As the rest fell back to the caves that shone, confined,
    On the bridge where dwarf, elf and man used all their brawn,
    Yet the sun’s rising made all the beasts blind,
    And they did not know who came from behind,
    And to the men’s delight, the night had withdrawn,
    Light! Dawn!
    Came the cries as help came galloping from over the hill,
    Horse warriors who were once lost, riding, their place to fulfil,
    Led by the white wizard whose light was of monster’s scorn,
    There the fearless fled, and the hopeless cheered, no longer in dread,
    Then the remaining ran away but were met with a strange forest,
    Trees from far away which didn’t treated the deserters’ like a guest,
    They had battled throughout the night; no survivor could stifle a yawn.

  87. Troll

    Five days and nights we silent slept
    And set a watch at night
    The forest floor our secrets kept
    The nature checks, our fight.

    ‘Twas at the will of Duke Merlot
    (For he had sent us hence);
    He bid us to the forest go,
    To check the goblin-fence.

    And I, with sinewy tail and horns
    And long black cloak of starry sky
    Waited for the Radiant Morn,
    And what the Watchman could espy
    I fingered my Harvest Rod,
    Shined the dwarf’s Transference Axe,
    The Cleric prayed unto his god
    To stall goblin attacks

    Yet all the prayer was done for naught.
    The elf cried out at morningtide,
    That worse that we had ever fought
    Was barreling down the mountainside

    A cretinous Bloodrager Troll!
    If I had known the outcome then-
    If it weren’t for that twenty roll,
    I’d be safe at home again

    First it crushed the Cleric’s skull
    (19 versus armor class),
    And cracked the feeble iron hull
    Of full plate far too good to last,

    Then it spied the Paladin,
    Fixed him with its vile glare
    And he made ever such a din-
    The troll lit up his underwear

    18 v ref, and what a sight!
    (6d6 fire) burned and seethed
    And lit the last remains of night
    While Güran choked and couldn’t breathe

    Through the fumes of smoking dwarf
    Slim arrows pelted through the wind
    15! 16! Not enough
    To slay the troll; just like his kin,
    The Seeker felt his heart give way
    In the troll’s fell shadow
    He might have kept his life, but hey-
    He failed the saving throw.

    So two were left, the troll and I
    Though he had fire in his gaze
    The hellish globes that were my eyes
    Saw fear etched on his brutish face

    The cretin took my Eldritch Blast,
    And I his Frenzied Strike
    And so, before I breathed my last
    I grabbed a nearby pike.
    It’s 1d4 for improvised,
    But I charged him with it still
    And spent an action point, devised:
    +15 versus will

    I’d almost killed the Rager Troll
    But his will was twelve and ten
    If it weren’t for his twenty roll,
    I’d be safe at home again.

  88. Troll

    Five days and nights we silent slept
    And set a watch at night
    The forest floor our secrets kept
    The nature checks, our fight.

    ‘Twas at the will of Duke Merlot
    (For he had sent us hence);
    He bid us to the forest go,
    To check the goblin-fence.

    And I, with sinewy tail and horns
    And long black cloak of starry sky
    Waited for the Radiant Morn,
    And what the Watchman could espy
    I fingered my Harvest Rod,
    Shined the dwarf’s Transference Axe,
    The Cleric prayed unto his god
    To stall goblin attacks

    Yet all the prayer was done for naught.
    The elf cried out at morningtide,
    That worse that we had ever fought
    Was barreling down the mountainside

    A cretinous Bloodrager Troll!
    If I had known the outcome then-
    If it weren’t for that twenty roll,
    I’d be safe at home again

    First it crushed the Cleric’s skull
    (19 versus armor class),
    And cracked the feeble iron hull
    Of full plate far too good to last,

    Then it spied the Paladin,
    Fixed him with its vile glare
    And he made ever such a din-
    The troll lit up his underwear

    18 v ref, and what a sight!
    (6d6 fire) burned and seethed
    And lit the last remains of night
    While Güran choked and couldn’t breathe

    Through the fumes of smoking dwarf
    Slim arrows pelted through the wind
    15! 16! Not enough
    To slay the troll; just like his kin,
    The Seeker felt his heart give way
    In the troll’s fell shadow
    He might have kept his life, but hey-
    He failed the saving throw.

    So two were left, the troll and I
    Though he had fire in his gaze
    The hellish globes that were my eyes
    Saw fear etched on his brutish face

    The cretin took my Eldritch Blast,
    And I his Frenzied Strike
    And so, before I breathed my last
    I grabbed a nearby pike.
    It’s 1d4 for improvised,
    But I charged him with it still
    And spent an action point, devised:
    +15 versus will

    I’d almost killed the Rager Troll
    But his will was twelve and ten
    If it weren’t for his twenty roll,
    I’d be safe at home again.

  89. Lost in the deep thick of a forest, green,
    I, weary from wandering, stopped to take rest.
    Beneath rain-kissed branches,
    laden with fairy fruit, dripping with steam,
    I sighed for sleep and fell, at once, into a dream.

    A voice came ech’ing o’er the chilly air,
    singing a spell to wake me from sleep.
    The emerald trees began to murmer,
    their strange music whistling through the breeze in my hair.
    A far off maiden was whispering my name in a meadow,
    I knew not where.

    I broke through the thicket to find her,
    my armor flashing in the moonlight, pale.
    At last there came a clearing in the woodland, wild,
    And a muteness befell me, so lost was my will.
    Before me danced giants, trampling the green mantle bare.

    Clad in aprons of flapping hide,
    like ancient stones of milk-white marble,
    men or beasts they leapt through fire,
    in time with tongues of dragon-breathed flame.
    And in their midst a girl was standing,
    A garland of petals through her golden hair tied.

    My brow was damp with melted dew,
    my brave skin torn by bramble and rock,
    when she saw me hiding and bid me come.
    I took up my sword, but at once set it down
    And went running, instead, to her eyes’ piercing hue.

    And the earth seemed to rumble
    when seeing me they laughed
    in tones afore unheard by any man.
    We danced in the deep as if old, long lost friends
    while streams were hissing and sloshing froth.

    Their hands were stained, but not with blood-
    with juice of berries, warmed in hot sun.
    But thieving light came and morning broke.
    The milk-white marble was turned to stone
    And in place of my giants four mountains stood.

    And she, in an instant, vanish’d from sight,
    from the distant wood where we danced away night
    But in her place a trinket I found-
    an amaranth swaying, still casting a spell.
    Now here I sit beneath four mountains, tall,
    guarding this flower ’til next night shall fall…

  90. Lost in the deep thick of a forest, green,
    I, weary from wandering, stopped to take rest.
    Beneath rain-kissed branches,
    laden with fairy fruit, dripping with steam,
    I sighed for sleep and fell, at once, into a dream.

    A voice came ech’ing o’er the chilly air,
    singing a spell to wake me from sleep.
    The emerald trees began to murmer,
    their strange music whistling through the breeze in my hair.
    A far off maiden was whispering my name in a meadow,
    I knew not where.

    I broke through the thicket to find her,
    my armor flashing in the moonlight, pale.
    At last there came a clearing in the woodland, wild,
    And a muteness befell me, so lost was my will.
    Before me danced giants, trampling the green mantle bare.

    Clad in aprons of flapping hide,
    like ancient stones of milk-white marble,
    men or beasts they leapt through fire,
    in time with tongues of dragon-breathed flame.
    And in their midst a girl was standing,
    A garland of petals through her golden hair tied.

    My brow was damp with melted dew,
    my brave skin torn by bramble and rock,
    when she saw me hiding and bid me come.
    I took up my sword, but at once set it down
    And went running, instead, to her eyes’ piercing hue.

    And the earth seemed to rumble
    when seeing me they laughed
    in tones afore unheard by any man.
    We danced in the deep as if old, long lost friends
    while streams were hissing and sloshing froth.

    Their hands were stained, but not with blood-
    with juice of berries, warmed in hot sun.
    But thieving light came and morning broke.
    The milk-white marble was turned to stone
    And in place of my giants four mountains stood.

    And she, in an instant, vanish’d from sight,
    from the distant wood where we danced away night
    But in her place a trinket I found-
    an amaranth swaying, still casting a spell.
    Now here I sit beneath four mountains, tall,
    guarding this flower ’til next night shall fall…

  91. I wake and yet feel still asleep
    ’til off I drift into a dream
    where giants tear down heavy trees,
    through dancing flames forge golden beams.
    I beg them, “Stop! and quiet, be-
    drink up this brook, this cursed stream.
    When it is dry then I may reach
    the far off one who calls to me.”

  92. I wake and yet feel still asleep
    ’til off I drift into a dream
    where giants tear down heavy trees,
    through dancing flames forge golden beams.
    I beg them, “Stop! and quiet, be-
    drink up this brook, this cursed stream.
    When it is dry then I may reach
    the far off one who calls to me.”

  93. No Value

    No value. That’s what I was told.
    I’d just embarked on a new career,
    the old one having sucked my soul nearly dry.

    No value. The decree from those who should know.
    Older. Really, an elder even. I’m not exactly young,
    having passed three decades and heading for my fourth.

    No value. The industry of my new path.
    A tirade followed that very bold statement,
    an onslaught on all things distracting entertainment.

    No value. None of what was said
    had anything to do with me or what I do,
    nothing about the hobby I so dearly love.

    No value. I’d taken a chance converting
    my passion for imagination and active interest
    – in games – to full-time work doing something up my alley.

    No value. From the lips of one
    who knew nothing about me or
    about role-playing games or probably any other.

    No value. Judge. Jury. Executioner.
    What that small-minded man presumed to be,
    but I did not die or shrink or curse or retaliate.

    No value. I stood bewildered,
    experiencing the most surreal fifteen minutes of my life,
    knowing I am more than someone to be judged of no value.

    This poem is meant to be read in stanzas of three lines, but the column width when posted might wrap some lines to another. This is based on a real-life experience after I’d decided to pursue becoming a freelance author. Since then, I gained an apology from the man in the poem, not that I found it of much value. ;)

  94. No Value

    No value. That’s what I was told.
    I’d just embarked on a new career,
    the old one having sucked my soul nearly dry.

    No value. The decree from those who should know.
    Older. Really, an elder even. I’m not exactly young,
    having passed three decades and heading for my fourth.

    No value. The industry of my new path.
    A tirade followed that very bold statement,
    an onslaught on all things distracting entertainment.

    No value. None of what was said
    had anything to do with me or what I do,
    nothing about the hobby I so dearly love.

    No value. I’d taken a chance converting
    my passion for imagination and active interest
    – in games – to full-time work doing something up my alley.

    No value. From the lips of one
    who knew nothing about me or
    about role-playing games or probably any other.

    No value. Judge. Jury. Executioner.
    What that small-minded man presumed to be,
    but I did not die or shrink or curse or retaliate.

    No value. I stood bewildered,
    experiencing the most surreal fifteen minutes of my life,
    knowing I am more than someone to be judged of no value.

    This poem is meant to be read in stanzas of three lines, but the column width when posted might wrap some lines to another. This is based on a real-life experience after I’d decided to pursue becoming a freelance author. Since then, I gained an apology from the man in the poem, not that I found it of much value. ;)

  95. Mike Maxwell

    This is the story of Ethan Gilsdorf
    Into a gaming geek he did morph
    Away he did stray
    But came back to stay
    Wrote a book and published it forth

    Now geeks, rejoice! We now have a voice
    From Tolkien’s elves to P.J.’s dwarves
    The fantasy freaks shall inherit the earth
    So revel now in unbridled mirth
    For the story of Ethan Gilsdorf!

  96. Mike Maxwell

    This is the story of Ethan Gilsdorf
    Into a gaming geek he did morph
    Away he did stray
    But came back to stay
    Wrote a book and published it forth

    Now geeks, rejoice! We now have a voice
    From Tolkien’s elves to P.J.’s dwarves
    The fantasy freaks shall inherit the earth
    So revel now in unbridled mirth
    For the story of Ethan Gilsdorf!

  97. Natalie Jones

    A trio of Lord of the Rings haikus:

    Samwise and Frodo:
    You think they’re about to kiss,
    But they never do.

    **

    Do you think Sauron
    Would have ever found the Ring
    If he’d had Facebook?

    **

    In my opinion,
    The Fellowship of the Ring
    Should have bought cell phones.

  98. Natalie Jones

    A trio of Lord of the Rings haikus:

    Samwise and Frodo:
    You think they’re about to kiss,
    But they never do.

    **

    Do you think Sauron
    Would have ever found the Ring
    If he’d had Facebook?

    **

    In my opinion,
    The Fellowship of the Ring
    Should have bought cell phones.

  99. Mike Maxwell

    I thought of a better line for line 2 in the second verse:

    This is the story of Ethan Gilsdorf
    Into a gaming geek he did morph
    Away he did stray
    But came back to stay
    Wrote a book and published it forth

    Now geeks, rejoice! We now have a voice
    Be he an elf or a man or a dwarf
    The fantasy freaks shall inherit the earth
    So revel now in unbridled mirth
    For the story of Ethan Gilsdorf!

  100. Mike Maxwell

    I thought of a better line for line 2 in the second verse:

    This is the story of Ethan Gilsdorf
    Into a gaming geek he did morph
    Away he did stray
    But came back to stay
    Wrote a book and published it forth

    Now geeks, rejoice! We now have a voice
    Be he an elf or a man or a dwarf
    The fantasy freaks shall inherit the earth
    So revel now in unbridled mirth
    For the story of Ethan Gilsdorf!

  101. Erica Hoyt

    My poem I wrote for my D&D game no title yet

    These shadows that haunt me here
    That of which becomes my biggest fear
    Lurking around each corner, STOP!
    The clock goes tick tock
    Each moment passes by
    You cannot win this time

    This fear that is in your mind
    That of which makes everything seem more divine
    Soon comes a sign
    Your thoughts all intertwine
    She casts a spell on you this time
    Your light seems to no longer shine

  102. Erica Hoyt

    My poem I wrote for my D&D game no title yet

    These shadows that haunt me here
    That of which becomes my biggest fear
    Lurking around each corner, STOP!
    The clock goes tick tock
    Each moment passes by
    You cannot win this time

    This fear that is in your mind
    That of which makes everything seem more divine
    Soon comes a sign
    Your thoughts all intertwine
    She casts a spell on you this time
    Your light seems to no longer shine

  103. MM1EDP24
    ____________

    Gelatinous Cube
    Gelatinous Cube
    Sterical noob
    Your shape confounds me.
    Perverse.
    Subtle and simple and slothful.
    Errol Otus feared you as I do.
    His art wasn’t as good as the other guys’.

    Dark Ritual
    ________

    Students and teachers shared whispers.
    “They burn Real Candles!” they said.
    Was it satanic?
    They had heard of that
    on TV.
    Real Candles, did you hear?
    In shadows our nightly ritual was shrouded.
    They never saw
    The pencils,
    The paper with babel scrawl,
    The poorly drawn helmets and weapons.
    And yes,
    oh yes,
    The Real Candles.

  104. MM1EDP24
    ____________

    Gelatinous Cube
    Gelatinous Cube
    Sterical noob
    Your shape confounds me.
    Perverse.
    Subtle and simple and slothful.
    Errol Otus feared you as I do.
    His art wasn’t as good as the other guys’.

    Dark Ritual
    ________

    Students and teachers shared whispers.
    “They burn Real Candles!” they said.
    Was it satanic?
    They had heard of that
    on TV.
    Real Candles, did you hear?
    In shadows our nightly ritual was shrouded.
    They never saw
    The pencils,
    The paper with babel scrawl,
    The poorly drawn helmets and weapons.
    And yes,
    oh yes,
    The Real Candles.

  105. Michael White

    Untitled
    ______

    I was just up for air when another wave hit
    These hardships would give me a fit
    But I learned to relax
    Fighting phantasms with Gygax
    I just state that I’m trying to disbelieve it!

    The campaign at its climax with few HP lost
    And plenty of potions and scrolls to exhaust
    But it ended with a moan
    We were all turned to stone!
    By one ill-drawn catoblepas

    Our party raised levels with nary a hitch
    And through plunder grew ever more rich
    But we regret they took arms
    To ply backstabs and charms
    On a module that ended with Demi-Litch!

    That bully at school who taunts us so
    why can’t he just let it go?
    But he’s no match for my crew
    And this case of Mountain Dew
    After all, what do you think is his Thaco?

    I never quite fit with my dice-bag and all
    At dances on a chair against the wall
    But I’d just squint and I’d sit
    Figuring which classmates would fit
    In the blast-radius of my fireball?

    Hero Remember
    ____________

    White dragons breathe cold
    Red dragons spit fire
    Green dragons belch poisonous vapor
    Black dragons yak acid
    And dragon turtles sneeze steam
    But with Tiamat, teleport is safer

  106. Michael White

    Untitled
    ______

    I was just up for air when another wave hit
    These hardships would give me a fit
    But I learned to relax
    Fighting phantasms with Gygax
    I just state that I’m trying to disbelieve it!

    The campaign at its climax with few HP lost
    And plenty of potions and scrolls to exhaust
    But it ended with a moan
    We were all turned to stone!
    By one ill-drawn catoblepas

    Our party raised levels with nary a hitch
    And through plunder grew ever more rich
    But we regret they took arms
    To ply backstabs and charms
    On a module that ended with Demi-Litch!

    That bully at school who taunts us so
    why can’t he just let it go?
    But he’s no match for my crew
    And this case of Mountain Dew
    After all, what do you think is his Thaco?

    I never quite fit with my dice-bag and all
    At dances on a chair against the wall
    But I’d just squint and I’d sit
    Figuring which classmates would fit
    In the blast-radius of my fireball?

    Hero Remember
    ____________

    White dragons breathe cold
    Red dragons spit fire
    Green dragons belch poisonous vapor
    Black dragons yak acid
    And dragon turtles sneeze steam
    But with Tiamat, teleport is safer

  107. I call this, “You’re Nowhere Near as Cool as Tony Stark”

    I’ve come to the conclusion that I am not a crazy,
    Nutters think the insanity they spit is as logical as the world turning,
    They’re ignorant of their ‘special nature’,
    Yet I am fully aware that I lack logic of any kind,
    Especially when it comes to you still weighing on my mind,
    Despite your far from perfect and hurtful crime,

    You could very well throw the Joker in my face,
    Who supposedly lacked any logic and was aware,
    But slow your roll sweetheart,
    Cause according to Ms. Asylum Specialist,
    He’s surprisingly super sane,
    So since I protect my love through filters he lacks,
    This parallel proves false,

    Or you could peg me Harley Quinn,
    Whose deep affection for a nut that never loved her and cannot ever,
    Could be considered considerably crazier than he,
    But Puddin’ you would be very wrong again,
    Because, I’m not a villainess,
    Just a super heroine and poetess,
    Who sometimes works in villanelle,
    But that’s about bad as I get,
    …Outside of the bedroom…

    For you, Mr. Black and Blue,
    I was ready to rip off my mask,
    Strip off the costume,
    De cloak my heart and hand you the codes to my lair,
    But you ran,
    Like a low down dirty criminal,
    Though you promised you could at least save our friendship,
    Now look at you,
    Another in a long running series about clumsy teen romance,
    When I could have sworn you were a NM 9.4 DC #27,

    You suck,
    There’s nothing poetic about that,
    And I will not apologize for doing what was right,
    Even if I didn’t execute it super well,
    Because I am not vengeance nor am I the night,
    I’m the kid who came up with her own costume,
    Then went out and got her ass kicked,
    ‘Cause she was looking to be loved,
    But I’ll put it on and do it again,
    Because the thing about being a hero is,
    You can’t be a coward.

  108. I call this, “You’re Nowhere Near as Cool as Tony Stark”

    I’ve come to the conclusion that I am not a crazy,
    Nutters think the insanity they spit is as logical as the world turning,
    They’re ignorant of their ‘special nature’,
    Yet I am fully aware that I lack logic of any kind,
    Especially when it comes to you still weighing on my mind,
    Despite your far from perfect and hurtful crime,

    You could very well throw the Joker in my face,
    Who supposedly lacked any logic and was aware,
    But slow your roll sweetheart,
    Cause according to Ms. Asylum Specialist,
    He’s surprisingly super sane,
    So since I protect my love through filters he lacks,
    This parallel proves false,

    Or you could peg me Harley Quinn,
    Whose deep affection for a nut that never loved her and cannot ever,
    Could be considered considerably crazier than he,
    But Puddin’ you would be very wrong again,
    Because, I’m not a villainess,
    Just a super heroine and poetess,
    Who sometimes works in villanelle,
    But that’s about bad as I get,
    …Outside of the bedroom…

    For you, Mr. Black and Blue,
    I was ready to rip off my mask,
    Strip off the costume,
    De cloak my heart and hand you the codes to my lair,
    But you ran,
    Like a low down dirty criminal,
    Though you promised you could at least save our friendship,
    Now look at you,
    Another in a long running series about clumsy teen romance,
    When I could have sworn you were a NM 9.4 DC #27,

    You suck,
    There’s nothing poetic about that,
    And I will not apologize for doing what was right,
    Even if I didn’t execute it super well,
    Because I am not vengeance nor am I the night,
    I’m the kid who came up with her own costume,
    Then went out and got her ass kicked,
    ‘Cause she was looking to be loved,
    But I’ll put it on and do it again,
    Because the thing about being a hero is,
    You can’t be a coward.

  109. Joe Teran

    Dear Aragorn,

    Listen to old ones when they speak

    Of how to get to Mordor’s peak

    Save the Hobbits the lengthy walk

    And Gollum’s Howie Mandel impressionistic talk

    So says Gandalf , “Fly you fools”

    He meant use eagles as the tools

    Sincerely,

    Elrond

  110. Joe Teran

    Dear Aragorn,

    Listen to old ones when they speak

    Of how to get to Mordor’s peak

    Save the Hobbits the lengthy walk

    And Gollum’s Howie Mandel impressionistic talk

    So says Gandalf , “Fly you fools”

    He meant use eagles as the tools

    Sincerely,

    Elrond

  111. The residuals of my creativity,
    are expressed in left brain poetry.
    But when it comes to talking tough,
    Numbers, above words, is what I like to love.

    The sheer elegance,
    of clear concise code.
    Compiled Swiftly,Executed flawlessly,

    On a digital yellow brick road.
    Numbers do not lie, People do.
    I would rather write code,
    Than dust my inter-personal skills for you.

    And if you ponder,
    think hard to understand

    What is God’s good wonder,
    drives this lonely man.

    It is simple,
    et tr’es elegante,

    Simplicity of statistics,
    is what we really want.

    The inner child, stakes up an eccentric stance,
    Prefers the joy of writing code,
    Than understand the complexities of fellow man

  112. The residuals of my creativity,
    are expressed in left brain poetry.
    But when it comes to talking tough,
    Numbers, above words, is what I like to love.

    The sheer elegance,
    of clear concise code.
    Compiled Swiftly,Executed flawlessly,

    On a digital yellow brick road.
    Numbers do not lie, People do.
    I would rather write code,
    Than dust my inter-personal skills for you.

    And if you ponder,
    think hard to understand

    What is God’s good wonder,
    drives this lonely man.

    It is simple,
    et tr’es elegante,

    Simplicity of statistics,
    is what we really want.

    The inner child, stakes up an eccentric stance,
    Prefers the joy of writing code,
    Than understand the complexities of fellow man

  113. I searched the Empire for the Force,

    I sought Master Yoda of course.

    My obsession caused me a divorce.

    And led to my great poverty

    Of course, of course of course.

  114. I searched the Empire for the Force,

    I sought Master Yoda of course.

    My obsession caused me a divorce.

    And led to my great poverty

    Of course, of course of course.

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