Poem November 11
I found a purple node today,
While happening along my way,
I came across it in the town,
Near the path I was going down.
It glimmered and sparkled bright,
Catching a glow from soft moonlight,
I had to stop and watch the view,
I quite forgot just what to do,
And before I could raise a hand,
Another stopped and took command,
Scooping up the precious parts,
Leaving me nothing as he departs,
Gone in a wink, a blink of an eye,
The purple node whispered a silent "good bye."
Poem November 23
The Deepwater Angler is a fish that's admired,
Their translucent fins have surely inspired,
The poets from across all seven realms,
To write of this fish that so overwhelms -
One's sight - for it's beauty is tremendously grand,
And so rarely one finds them swimming so near the land,
For their home is found far off the coast,
Deep in the water where there resides most,
In schools tightly circling, a glimmering dance,
One may drown as drawn in with eyes in a trance.
Cast out your lines and let down your hooks,
And bring back this fish to admire it's looks,
Then quickly return it so that our children may see,
A fish that cuts through the water so magnificently.
Poem November 25
The might of a dragon is quite boundless, they say,
Reducing many brave souls to the simplest of prey.
With interlocked scales that deflect every blow,
And razor-sharp claws that bring nothing but woe.
None can withstand a dragon in flight,
For with one fiery breath they quickly ignite,
All that's beneath them as far as they see,
All buildings and grasslands, every flower and tree.
They cannot be captured, they cannot be slain,
No object can hold them, none can restrain,
But one fabled item, of which minstrels sing,
An impenetrable twine that can bind tooth and wing,
Fashioned from silk from the Pyrrick Silkworm,
By the very best tailors - this I’ll confirm,
Once carefully fashioned and twice over blessed,
This magnificent twine can easily best,
Any grand dragon, both young and old,
By your average adventurer, be he foolish or bold,
For once lured inside the Pyrrick’s firm grasp,
The twine is released and the net does collapse,
Thus binding the dragon and ending its terror,
Now bound to the earth and restrained from the air.
Poem Dec 24 Dedicated to JenMack, who is known far and wide as both an excellent healer, and someone that absolutely must not be woken once asleep.
'Twas the night before Christmas,
And all through the village,
The trolls had awoken,
And they started to pillage,
They robbed every node,
And looted the vault,
No one knew they were coming,
So there's no one to fault.
They came for the chickens,
When we sounded the bell,
Warning all of their villainy,
'Cross creek, hill and dell,
And when all seemed lost,
And we could fight no more,
There came a sound,
from down by the shore.
"I needed my nap!"
Jen started to yell,
"Now face my wrath,
I'll smite you to hell!"
She swapped out her mace,
That was glowing with light,
To one cloaked in shadows,
That radiated fright,
She raised it high,
And the air crackled with smoke,
The trolls scrambled in fright,
Then one of them spoke.
"We meant you no harm,
It's all just a game,
We'll put it all back,
It will be just the same!"
Jen smiled, and calmed,
"I suppose that's ok,
After all it is Christmas,
Just go on your way."
So the trolls gathered themselves,
And prepared for their leave,
But then Jen again raised her mace,
And quickly did weave,
A blast that leveled the gate,
And flattened the ridge,
Leaving no sign of the trolls,
Or of the town’s great bridge,
“Merry Christmas to you,
Now you trolls know the cost,
If you wake me from sleeping,
Then your lives will be lost.”
The sorriest sight I ever did see,
Valyant the Brave, as dead as can be.
Alone on the isle, scarlet as blood,
He took a short break then died with a thud.
When stepping away from your keyboard take care,
To take a step back from the boss that spawns there.
The poem below was inspired by two separate things. First - by a friend describing a series of IT systems at work. Second - my memory of a children's book titled Septimus Bean and His Amazing Machine. Like all of my poems, this is probably terrible but I intend to subject you to it anyway.
Poem March 6, 2020
Let me tell you a story of a wondrous machine,
Owned by a man named Billy-Joe-Dean,
Who organized it in ways you won’t understand,
All turned by a crank by his wondrous hand.
With the turn of the wheel he sets it in motion,
Moving a block across a tub full of lotion,
To a chute down a path covered in nails,
Then back to a tub filled with some whales,
That tickle the object with bubbles they blow,
And off to the next phase the block starts to glow.
Munchkins with hammers tap at the edges,
Then it’s up some stairs to a room full of hedges,
When the block finally arrives at a large yellow door,
The block slowly emerges looking just as before.
One may want to ask of Billy-Joe-Dean,
What is the purpose? What does it mean?
He never has answered, never a word,
At least not an answer that anyone’s heard.
Poem March 9, 2020
The man in the window is looking at me,
Or at a reflection that I cannot see.
Is this a metaphor with hidden meaning?
Subtle phrases that are concealing,
A lesson here that I must find,
Or has our poet lost his mind?
Poem March 10, 2020
The clouds outside remind me,
That the sky is vast and high,
And though they’re sometimes dreary,
I am glad they happen by,
For what is sun without the rain,
And stillness without the breeze?
What is life without the pain,
And warmth without a freeze?
You cannot know without a need,
No matter who you are,
So I am glad for clouds indeed,
Though they are up so very far.
Poem March 11, 2020
Have you ever wondered how Ardent Castle should appear,
When looking from the outside on a day that‘s bright and clear?
Standing from above or on a hill so far away,
Does the footprint match the inside or does it giveaway,
That appearances are deceiving where walls and windows are displayed,
Can we find the same internally, is it carefully arrayed?
These are questions that I’m asking, so if I may suggest,
We all head out to the castle and try our very best,
With rulers, tape, and measures so we can validate,
That every brick and hallway we can clearly demonstrate,
Was carefully placed by Otters to add realism to their game,
I don’t mean to sound obsessive, but I know you’ve thought the same,
That realism is important in a fantasy MMO,
I know you will agree with me, it is quite apropos.
July 8 - US3 Poetry in Summers Hollow Event This is a social event held on US3 each month.
There was a little dash under once so long he had no notion,
How long it took to notify his tail of his emotion.
And thus it was that while his eyes were filled with woe and sadness,
His little tail kept wagging on because of former gladness!
The last person on earth,
Hears a knock at their door.
There was a little squishy warrior,
He thought he could do better,
All was given by a said vendor,
Nothing like the bogfrog that would deter,
All the squishiness would go,
Till he would be no more,
A legacy was on hold or so-so,
Then he became a bore,
All was lost in his pride,
Then a trader idol was sent
So the knight grew into a grind
So our hero became a sirbabbo
GalatiaStar By Emily Dickenson
If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life the aching, or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin unto his nest again, I shall not live in vain.
Walls have ears, doors have eyes.
Trees have voices, beasts tell lies.
Beware the rain. Beware the snow.
Beware the man you think you know.
They’re always listening, always waiting.
Always forgetting what time is taking.
Roses are red,
Traders idols are brown,
If you send an idol to chooey,
I would not frown.
Vittoria Vixen Friendship, author unknown
Friendship needs no studied phrases, polished face, or winning wiles;
Friendship deals no lavish praises, friendship dons no surface smiles.
Friendship follows Nature’s diction, shuns the blandishments of art,
Bolfly severs truth from fiction, speaks the language of the heart.
Friendship favors no condition, scorns a narrow-minded creed,
Lovingly fulfills it’s mission, be it word or be it deed.
Friendship cheers the faint and weary, makes the timid spirit brave,
Warns the erring, lights the dreary, smooths the passage to the grave.
Friendship-pure, unselfish friendship, all through life’s allotted span,
Nurtures, strengthens, widens, lengthens, man’s relationship with man.
TyTanya In honor of preparing for the vale
Beetles may be large or small,
Shaped from flat to humpy tall,
Iridescent red or yellow,
Every one is a stackable fellow
Princess Unicorn Purple Cow, by Princess Unicorn
Once there was a purple cow, who was bullied by others.
Because he was different, he was picked on by his sisters and brothers.
One day the cow sadly walked along,
as he sniffed and cried,
He thought up a song,
He sang it to the birds in the trees,
He sang it to the honeybees.
His siblings sat watching in awe,
All along they seemed to think the purple cow had no talents at all!
But now they heard a beautiful song,
And realized what they should have done all along.
So from that day on, the cows got along.
And learned that no matter how different you are,
You’re still special! Moral to the story - be a purple cow!
We travel many roads,
We meet many new faces,
Along the way we all are family,
No matter who or what we do,
Someone bound to give a helping hand,
Love one another, friends for life.
So there I am, tiredly about to run bounties on Traven Isle,
Suddenly my guildmate Aria rides up in style.
She is followed closely by a Yeeter wearing a crown,
She invites me to group and I think "sure, I'm down!"
You see, I was having trouble killing with my weapon, made by Io,
It was once a great weapon, but that was 10 levels ago.
Without warning she takes off running by,
I still had my inventory open, clicking on a pie.
Now the pie was from the guild vault, made by Reason,
She lovingly keeps them stocked year round, no matter the season.
But back to the bounty run, I've let my mind wander...
Where did she go? I don't have long to ponder.
Way up ahead I think I saw a blur,
I ride as fast as I can, hoping it was her.
As TCY and I follow bounty after bounty go down,
Man this Aria chick doesn't mess around!
Before I know it Traven is completed, super efficiently,
I wouldn't have done anything differently.
"Pyrron Courtyard" is all Aria typed,
My first time going there, man I'm hyped!
Round and round she runs, killing, and up each ramp,
Just trying to keep up, my hands are getting damp.
I barely kept up with her, try as I might,
Couldn't even cast a spell to join in the fight!
After Courtyard is done, Aria types "Lower Keep."
And I just think to myself "I'm glad I didn't just go get some sleep."
When Lower Keep is cleared Aria calls it, we are done,
I gained almost 3 levels and had so much fun.
Even more levels were gained by the rebirthed Crowned Yeeter,
When it comes to powerleveling Aria's the best, no one can beat her.
Quantum is a wonderful guild, with a snowberry, Khitti and Beane.
Ready to help and make great friends, a family is what we all seem.
Laughter and fun, prizes and contests, great many things await,
But what's in store couldn't possibly be more, than great fun and reasons to celebrate.
Rebirthing once again.
I forgot my pie.
Impresario This portion of the event is titled, "Stump the Poet." Players in the audience provide the topics for the poems. The goal isn't so much to include every topic that's provided, but to try and and incorporate as many as possible and still make a poem that makes sense.
Purple Cow, Khitti, Traders Idol, Bean, snow berries, sirbabbo, zings
A purple cow is really neat,
The milk from it cannot be beat,
You trade for some with an idol,
Then lead the cow with a bridle,
To a place wheres no berries grow,
Near some beans that like to glow.
I know not where this place may be,
But ask sirbabbos if he'll take thee.
red head (a new player that was present at the event), fingernail parings, TyTanya, Unicorns, formula one, from, Sanction, pickles, toe jam, 15 pages
Red head arrived to our game,
Seeking a challenge of fortune and fame,
He went on a quest to find pickles and toes,
But instead found some Unicorns wearing bright purple bows,
They were guarding the fingernails out near Drom's top -
And that's where this poem will finally stop.
Poem July 30 Dedicated to a special young lady (you know who you are), an aspiring poet and an amazing wizard.
With spark in her step the young wizard attacks,
She wiggles her fingers and the monster reacts,
It turns surprised to see one so small,
Blasting magical energies twenty-feet tall.
What she lacks in experience she makes up with joy,
She delights in the magic that she can employ,
To tear down her enemies in one single blast,
Astonishing her mother and leaving others aghast!
Her mother, Lavendaria, had one thing to say,
"She's rather quite brilliant, though I know it's cliche,
For a mom to be proud of one of her own,
But she blasted that Elder right down to the bone!"
Expect great things from Lavendaria's daughter,
And if you're in a bind with dozens of enemies to slaughter,
Call on the services of this wizard quite young,
For tales of her deeds have already been sung.
Shadows awaken, enthralled by command,
Silently calling, and bound by a strand,
Wrapped in the darkness, it twists and it turns,
For when evil awakes, it consumes as it yearns,
Free from it’s shackles, free from the light,
It’s dank blackness consuming all within sight,
It floods from the confines that once held it at bay,
Overwhelming the land in search of it’s prey.
Reality cracks as malevolence seeps,
The children of Ardent unaware as they sleep,
That the heroes of Icewatch are quick to react,
And extinguish this evil that leaps to attack,
Each torch that is lit, though bright with deception,
Must be extinguished to provide us protection,
For each is a doorway that ushers the end,
If not for the Icewatch who forever defends.
It’s been too long. I need to post here more often again. Here’s one I wrote yesterday. Apologies to Walt Whitman.
Poem January 6
O Mana! My Mana! I need you now and then,
In the battle I am spent, and though I count to ten,
I fear you are depleted, there’s nothing left to spend,
For though I watch and wait for you, I fear I’m at an end;
But O hark! hark! hark!
O the vial filled with blue,
I’ll take a couple swigs of it,
Or maybe twenty-two,
And soon I’m back in action, ready for the fight,
Restored to all my glory, restored to all my might.
And some say it’s an addiction, that I really ought to quit,
But when my mana is depleted, I just need a little hit,
And then I’m at the ready, to heal and smite and stun,
At least until my mana is depleted, and my stack is truly done.
Bounding across the city square,
Riding on a pinto mare,
At haste unseen in such a place,
Hoof beats clattering from the race,
What could cause such deadly need?
To require a run at reckless speed?
One villager grabs the rider’s cloak,
To ask this question of this bloke,
And in response to inquiry,
Of why he risked such injury,
The man responded with a halt -
“I left my motes within my vault.”
Poem January 20
In a land where pirates play,
Where bog frogs roam and spirits stray,
I found a necklace lying there,
Tossed aside without a care,
Forgotten, lost, on patch of sand,
I know not why, nor understand.
Alice went down the rabbit hole, looking for her pet,
she found a queen, who was quite mean, and really was upset.
This evil queen, she had a plan, to win a game of chess.
She fell right down, and lost her crown, when Alice did confess -
"Now I learned from my grand pappy, to never make a bet,
but he taught me how to play this game, I won't even break a sweat."
So Alice and the Queen moved pieces 'cross the board,
and when the Queen saw all was lost, she was well and truly floored.
Alice won the crown that day, and climbed back to her yard,
she gave a shout, as she climbed out, "That wasn't very hard!"
This thread was my archive, but after several recommendations I'll be consolidating all of my poetry into a single thread. Below is older stuff that I could fish out from my mail to the village. I'll add new posts to this thread with newer poetry and other poems I dig out from my archives at some point.
Note (added 8/13/2019): It’s probably important to note that while sometimes my poetry is inspired by bugs, snags, disruptions or whatever goes bump in the night, they are always meant for fun and not malice. The game, it’s community, and the Otters have all been excellent sources of inspiration!
December 31 Seize the Day
365 days a year, all to wait for what is finally here,
We hurry each day and rush into another,
Thinking that in tomorrow we shall discover,
Something new, something with meaning,
Something with hope, something worth receiving.
We focus on the future and often forget,
That today is the day, it's all that we get.
Or perhaps you are in each of your days,
Drowning bit by bit as you go on your way,
Focusing on the last three-sixty-four,
Wishing and needing for something much more,
Not realizing what's done is gone and can't be undone,
You can't change your past, it can't be respun.
We focus on yesterday and often forget,
That today is the day, it's all that we get.
So here is to now, this moment, this minute,
Take ownership of today, this instant and win it,
We have today, it's the day that we get,
So make it amazing, one you'll never forget.
December 29 (note, this was inspired by the Pyron key quest stuff, which I've never done, but it was requested by a guild member)
Hello my friend you need a key, or maybe two, or maybe three.
Not nearly enough? Here have this quest, I offer it, not in jest.
Go collect five hundred parts, craft them into works of art,
Set them by a lake in June, underneath a crescent moon,
Then paint them orange. Then red. Then green. Carry them through a maze of beans.
Sing them a lullaby you wrote in greek, then I will give you all the keys you seek.
Oh The Marvelous Workshop Gizmo, What a curious thing.
I thought it would be a pet or a toy, since it obviously is a spring.
It may have been a slinky, to step down each castle step,
or it could have coiled up in a can, to scare when opened, I suspect.
But it was neither a toy or a springy pet, much to my surprise,
and now I have a sudden urge to craft another hundred pies. omeglebazoo camchatiw December 24
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all over our town,
Each villager was smiling, not one single frown,
For each went to their garden and found with delight,
A bountiful elf had visited that night,
The peppers were bulging, the melons quite round,
Rhubarb and lavendar, peas stacked high over the ground,
Every sheep could be sheared for five times its weight,
And each chicken produced ten eggs, plus eight,
And if this all sounds too good to be true,
Then believe in your heart that it is my wish for you,
To find bounty, find hope, to dream and aspire,
To find peace, find blessing, and reach ever higher,
To find meaning and happiness on this most special of day,
"A Merry Christmas to you and your family," I say.
So many dragons.
They clutter the air.
The green ones.
The blue ones.
The brown ones.
The red ones.
Breathe fire from hell.
Two weeks ago I had only one I had seen.
Locked in a prison, he is vicious and mean.
Then all of a sudden, so many appear,
A dragon invasion, I cower with fear.
But they seem to be helpful in an odd sort of way,
Carrying people on their backs all day.
Poem April 15
Days gone past, the days are gone,
No need to dwell, just carry on,
It’s April now, your burden light,
The past November, long gone from sight.
Your past, unchanging, set in stone,
Leave it gone, leave it alone,
Your future’s forward, and coming here,
Welcoming you as it comes near.
So take this moment, take this hour,
Embrace it, claim it, for it is power,
Power to do what must be done,
Power to stop and hug someone,
Power to change and power to grow,
Power to let all past things go.