I knew that filmy gauze wasn't worth a flip.... @Scayde: I am speechless...what an honor.
Scayde and Chanak's Boudoir
Re: Re: Re: Re: Scayde and Chanak's Boudoir
I am in negotiations with Buck even as we speak....
Originally posted by dragon wench
You know Than..maybe you should have supplied this thread with an 18+ rating..
I am in negotiations with Buck even as we speak....
Those who will play with kitties must expect to be scratched.
Many are cold; few are frozen.
Absence is to love what wind is to fire... it extinguishes the small, it enkindles the great.
Many are cold; few are frozen.
Absence is to love what wind is to fire... it extinguishes the small, it enkindles the great.
-
Bloodstalker
- Posts: 15512
- Joined: Wed Apr 18, 2001 10:00 pm
- Location: Hell if I know
- Contact:
Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Scayde and Chanak's Boudoir
LOL..we were only discussing dinner menus and travel arangements......
You people have such dirty minds
@Chan:.LOL well with a ticket like that only the best will do
Originally posted by thantor3
I am in negotiations with Buck even as we speak....
LOL..we were only discussing dinner menus and travel arangements......
You people have such dirty minds
@Chan:.LOL well with a ticket like that only the best will do
Scayde Moody
(Pronounced Shayde)
The virtue of self sacrifice is the lie perpetuated by the weak to enslave the strong
Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Scayde and Chanak's Boudoir
Indeed. They should be ashamed of themselves...minds in the gutter and all that.
There's no other airline I would rather fly...
Originally posted by Scayde
LOL..we were only discussing dinner menus and travel arangements......
You people have such dirty minds
@Chan:.LOL well with a ticket like that only the best will do
Indeed. They should be ashamed of themselves...minds in the gutter and all that.
There's no other airline I would rather fly...
CYNIC, n.:
A blackguard whose faulty vision sees things as they are, not as they ought to be.
-[url="http://www.alcyone.com/max/lit/devils/a.html"]The Devil's Dictionary[/url]
A blackguard whose faulty vision sees things as they are, not as they ought to be.
-[url="http://www.alcyone.com/max/lit/devils/a.html"]The Devil's Dictionary[/url]
-
Yshania
- Posts: 8572
- Joined: Wed May 09, 2001 10:00 pm
- Location: Some Girls Wander By Mistake
- Contact:
*Short time out*
After witnessing some beautiful writing in DF Discussion, I was inclined to seek this one out from my archives, but felt it had no place in Discussion since it had nothing to do with the other writers - as was the initial intention. It does not compare to what I read there, but this is my offering
Two Souls Standing
Two souls standing an age apart, yet side by side
One of flesh and seeking, the other a shadow…
Each yearning for their connection,
They join at the feet.
From their protective shell
They behold each other
Yet in their darkness they behold themselves.
Two souls standing a step apart, yet side by side
One so wanting, the other so needing…
Each yearning for the oneness,
They join at the hand.
The wider they stretch their arms
The further the shadows reach
So they hold themselves in the light, and they hold each other.
Two souls standing a breath apart, cheek to cheek
Two as one with a sliver of self between,
Each appreciating the unity,
They join at the heart.
The deeper the touch
The dearer the bond between
And they reach in comfort of the shadows…
That's it - distraction over
After witnessing some beautiful writing in DF Discussion, I was inclined to seek this one out from my archives, but felt it had no place in Discussion since it had nothing to do with the other writers - as was the initial intention. It does not compare to what I read there, but this is my offering
Two Souls Standing
Two souls standing an age apart, yet side by side
One of flesh and seeking, the other a shadow…
Each yearning for their connection,
They join at the feet.
From their protective shell
They behold each other
Yet in their darkness they behold themselves.
Two souls standing a step apart, yet side by side
One so wanting, the other so needing…
Each yearning for the oneness,
They join at the hand.
The wider they stretch their arms
The further the shadows reach
So they hold themselves in the light, and they hold each other.
Two souls standing a breath apart, cheek to cheek
Two as one with a sliver of self between,
Each appreciating the unity,
They join at the heart.
The deeper the touch
The dearer the bond between
And they reach in comfort of the shadows…
That's it - distraction over
Parachute for sale, like new! Never opened!
Guinness, black goes with everything.
Guinness, black goes with everything.
-
Bloodstalker
- Posts: 15512
- Joined: Wed Apr 18, 2001 10:00 pm
- Location: Hell if I know
- Contact:
Ysh..That is so beautiful......*HUG*...
Thank you for sharing it.....
I hope others decide to post their poetry in here, and I can only think we will all love it, if it is anywhere near as beautiful as yours.....
Thank you for sharing it.....
I hope others decide to post their poetry in here, and I can only think we will all love it, if it is anywhere near as beautiful as yours.....
Scayde Moody
(Pronounced Shayde)
The virtue of self sacrifice is the lie perpetuated by the weak to enslave the strong
Beyond the Shroud
I looked out
and could not see
Beyond the shroud awaiting
but I head your voice
It called to me
as a siren's song
Through the pitch of my solitude
and beckoned me
I turned to you
once more to retreat
Leaving familiar paths behind
of absolute escape
Choosing instead
to follow your path
Gazing upon a new horizon
Resplendant in all its posibility
I looked out
and could not see
Beyond the shroud awaiting
but I head your voice
It called to me
as a siren's song
Through the pitch of my solitude
and beckoned me
I turned to you
once more to retreat
Leaving familiar paths behind
of absolute escape
Choosing instead
to follow your path
Gazing upon a new horizon
Resplendant in all its posibility
Scayde Moody
(Pronounced Shayde)
The virtue of self sacrifice is the lie perpetuated by the weak to enslave the strong
This Sacred Wind
A sacred wind blows
My heart soars,
And my spirit in flight.
I stand at the edge of a cliff,
Overlooking the sea.
The waves crash below.
Seafoam rises to kiss my face.
Mist brushes across my face,
reminding me of your gentle touch.
My breast filled to overflowing,
You fill me so
I feel your presence
In this place
Where sea meets shore
You are the breeze,
Caressing my soul
I stand and bask in you
Swept away by your power
Gentle and strong and unrelenting
So like the surge of the tides below
You carry me away,
As my rapture takes wing.
Scayde
A sacred wind blows
My heart soars,
And my spirit in flight.
I stand at the edge of a cliff,
Overlooking the sea.
The waves crash below.
Seafoam rises to kiss my face.
Mist brushes across my face,
reminding me of your gentle touch.
My breast filled to overflowing,
You fill me so
I feel your presence
In this place
Where sea meets shore
You are the breeze,
Caressing my soul
I stand and bask in you
Swept away by your power
Gentle and strong and unrelenting
So like the surge of the tides below
You carry me away,
As my rapture takes wing.
Scayde
Scayde Moody
(Pronounced Shayde)
The virtue of self sacrifice is the lie perpetuated by the weak to enslave the strong
@Scayde: *hug* That's beautiful.... both of those poems are....
Here's one I started writing a few years ago.
The Slave
In a near yet distant land,
Past snow capped peak and desert sand;
Lies a realm plunged deep in murky mist,
Held fast in terror's iron fist.
There no babe is heard to cry,
And dark shapes soar the sullen sky;
With the breath of fear upon their wings,
That softly whispers nameless things.
In darkness toil the hapless thralls,
Ruled by sorcery that binds them all
To the spokes of a monstrous grinding wheel,
Built of wood, stone, and unyielding steel.
In dreary, lightless, heavy gloom
They push and turn this wheel of doom;
Enslaved to serve an unquenchable lust
That grinds the souls of men to dust.
Their minds are trapped in webs of lies,
Which binds black scales upon their eyes,
And blinds them to the ghastly feast
Of this grinding wheel they call the Beast.
Deep within the endless night,
Beyond the rays of dawn's first light,
A slave looks to the starless sky,
As tears stream forth from sightless eyes.
Rags hang limp on a crooked frame,
And he stumbles on legs that are bent and lame;
Years of dust choke his matted hair,
His visage a twisted mask of despair.
He stumbles and falls upon the well-worn path,
And awaits the whip of the wheel-master's wrath;
Searing, slashing, a scarred back laid bare -
Torn by fear's talons, beyond hope or care.
And though he cries out, not a thing is heard -
Not a sigh, nor a moan; nary a word.
The darkness swallows his countless tears
Amidst the deafening roar of the grinding gears.
His tears fall heedless of the shadow's numbking kiss,
Silvery drops tumbling down into the yawning black Abyss;
There they fall and at last, gather far below....
Yet there is one who sees, and one who knows.
Here's one I started writing a few years ago.
The Slave
In a near yet distant land,
Past snow capped peak and desert sand;
Lies a realm plunged deep in murky mist,
Held fast in terror's iron fist.
There no babe is heard to cry,
And dark shapes soar the sullen sky;
With the breath of fear upon their wings,
That softly whispers nameless things.
In darkness toil the hapless thralls,
Ruled by sorcery that binds them all
To the spokes of a monstrous grinding wheel,
Built of wood, stone, and unyielding steel.
In dreary, lightless, heavy gloom
They push and turn this wheel of doom;
Enslaved to serve an unquenchable lust
That grinds the souls of men to dust.
Their minds are trapped in webs of lies,
Which binds black scales upon their eyes,
And blinds them to the ghastly feast
Of this grinding wheel they call the Beast.
Deep within the endless night,
Beyond the rays of dawn's first light,
A slave looks to the starless sky,
As tears stream forth from sightless eyes.
Rags hang limp on a crooked frame,
And he stumbles on legs that are bent and lame;
Years of dust choke his matted hair,
His visage a twisted mask of despair.
He stumbles and falls upon the well-worn path,
And awaits the whip of the wheel-master's wrath;
Searing, slashing, a scarred back laid bare -
Torn by fear's talons, beyond hope or care.
And though he cries out, not a thing is heard -
Not a sigh, nor a moan; nary a word.
The darkness swallows his countless tears
Amidst the deafening roar of the grinding gears.
His tears fall heedless of the shadow's numbking kiss,
Silvery drops tumbling down into the yawning black Abyss;
There they fall and at last, gather far below....
Yet there is one who sees, and one who knows.
CYNIC, n.:
A blackguard whose faulty vision sees things as they are, not as they ought to be.
-[url="http://www.alcyone.com/max/lit/devils/a.html"]The Devil's Dictionary[/url]
A blackguard whose faulty vision sees things as they are, not as they ought to be.
-[url="http://www.alcyone.com/max/lit/devils/a.html"]The Devil's Dictionary[/url]
Originally posted by Chanak
@Scayde: *hug* That's beautiful. Both of those poems are.
Thanks Chan..*HUG*..I am glad you like them....
Yours is so beautiful.....and it breaks my heart to read it...
It's so profoundly dark...and haunting...*HUG*.........
It reflects all of the bleakness of the soul of a person in bondage...
Scayde Moody
(Pronounced Shayde)
The virtue of self sacrifice is the lie perpetuated by the weak to enslave the strong
The Rosary
Again the wick is trimmed
As a thousand times before,
The silver lightning flashes
waves crash against the shore,
Through salty spray and salty tears
Memories still pour
Of a Lover out at sea
She prays and says her Rosary
She prays to God and heaven,
For his safe return
For only he can fill a hunger
Causing all her soul to burn,
She wonders if this self same spray
Did wash across the Deck
And closes her eyes to dream of kisses
on his velvet neck
Oh Demon waves and reckless Sea
with appetite so gory
Know you not in making meals of sailors
There's no glory
So once again the candle's lit
To light the way back home,
For one who travels round the sea
To find his way back Home
Scayde
Again the wick is trimmed
As a thousand times before,
The silver lightning flashes
waves crash against the shore,
Through salty spray and salty tears
Memories still pour
Of a Lover out at sea
She prays and says her Rosary
She prays to God and heaven,
For his safe return
For only he can fill a hunger
Causing all her soul to burn,
She wonders if this self same spray
Did wash across the Deck
And closes her eyes to dream of kisses
on his velvet neck
Oh Demon waves and reckless Sea
with appetite so gory
Know you not in making meals of sailors
There's no glory
So once again the candle's lit
To light the way back home,
For one who travels round the sea
To find his way back Home
Scayde
Scayde Moody
(Pronounced Shayde)
The virtue of self sacrifice is the lie perpetuated by the weak to enslave the strong
@Scayde: *hug* You are a wonderful writer, Scayde...you capture the heart of a matter in a way only you can.
Thank you for posting your poetry. You always reduce me to speechlessness...
Here is another one I wrote last year...
Shining Sword
O shining sword of mighty king,
Of lustrous sheen and glittering;
Forged with hammer, shaped and tried,
Tempered strong and purified.
Truly there is not a blade
Of finer steel that has been made;
Formed in fervent furnace fire,
Born in maker's heart desire.
O shining sword in king's right hand,
That no mere flesh may hope withstand;
A double edge both keen and true,
To divide the heart and soul in two.
All things fall within thy swing -
Exalted thought, vain imagining;
No refuge for the hardened heart,
For to thee there is no hidden part.
O shining sword, find thy mark,
And cleave through listless, weary dark;
Break through the chains that hold me fast
To the barren waste of things long past.
Strike true, o sword, and smite my breast,
And still the tempest of unrest;
Make calm the raging, stormy sea,
That my heart, at last, may be truly free.
Thank you for posting your poetry. You always reduce me to speechlessness...
Here is another one I wrote last year...
Shining Sword
O shining sword of mighty king,
Of lustrous sheen and glittering;
Forged with hammer, shaped and tried,
Tempered strong and purified.
Truly there is not a blade
Of finer steel that has been made;
Formed in fervent furnace fire,
Born in maker's heart desire.
O shining sword in king's right hand,
That no mere flesh may hope withstand;
A double edge both keen and true,
To divide the heart and soul in two.
All things fall within thy swing -
Exalted thought, vain imagining;
No refuge for the hardened heart,
For to thee there is no hidden part.
O shining sword, find thy mark,
And cleave through listless, weary dark;
Break through the chains that hold me fast
To the barren waste of things long past.
Strike true, o sword, and smite my breast,
And still the tempest of unrest;
Make calm the raging, stormy sea,
That my heart, at last, may be truly free.
CYNIC, n.:
A blackguard whose faulty vision sees things as they are, not as they ought to be.
-[url="http://www.alcyone.com/max/lit/devils/a.html"]The Devil's Dictionary[/url]
A blackguard whose faulty vision sees things as they are, not as they ought to be.
-[url="http://www.alcyone.com/max/lit/devils/a.html"]The Devil's Dictionary[/url]
Oooo I like it Chan......*HUG*
It is so right for the battle scenes we are writing
edit:...*blush*...Chan.......You are always so encouraging..
Thank you for your kind words....*HUG*
Scayde Moody
(Pronounced Shayde)
The virtue of self sacrifice is the lie perpetuated by the weak to enslave the strong
Originally posted by Scayde
Oooo I like it Chan......*HUG*
It is so right for the battle scenes we are writing
I'm glad that you like it, mi Corazon...
You are an artist painting in the medium of words...this has long been my preferred medium, one which I have given the supremacy over my other artistic urges. I decided to develop this avenue over the others when I began to write music. I discovered I loved to write and create most of all...it flowed more naturally for me than my pencils would on a sketch pad. I will return to my sketch pad again one day very soon...as I will also return to playing the guitar, and pick up where I left off 13 years ago.
I love the scenes you paint in your writing, Scayde. *hug*
CYNIC, n.:
A blackguard whose faulty vision sees things as they are, not as they ought to be.
-[url="http://www.alcyone.com/max/lit/devils/a.html"]The Devil's Dictionary[/url]
A blackguard whose faulty vision sees things as they are, not as they ought to be.
-[url="http://www.alcyone.com/max/lit/devils/a.html"]The Devil's Dictionary[/url]
Originally posted by Chanak
I'm glad that you like it, mi Corazon...
*blush* *swoon* *HUG*
Originally posted by Chanak
You are an artist painting in the medium of words...this has long been my preferred medium, one which I have given the supremacy over my other artistic urges. I decided to develop this avenue over the others when I began to write music. I discovered I loved to write and create most of all...it flowed more naturally for me than my pencils would on a sketch pad. I will return to my sketch pad again one day very soon...as I will also return to playing the guitar, and pick up where I left off 13 years ago.
I love the scenes you paint in your writing, Scayde. *hug*
Chan...I don't know what to say....thank you...
I hope you do return to your other gifts...,I believe talents are given by the Divine....and we can only be further blessed, and bless others, when we yield ourselves to the creative process....
Your talent is such that it inspires me to be the best I can be...*HUG*
Scayde Moody
(Pronounced Shayde)
The virtue of self sacrifice is the lie perpetuated by the weak to enslave the strong
-
Jaesha
- Posts: 1530
- Joined: Wed Jun 26, 2002 12:58 pm
- Location: On the back of a rodeo squirrel
- Contact:
*Calling all flamers and spammers, we have a happy thread on line 3" Would somebody bring in some noise?
Man, where´s the RT crew when you need it?
Distant Hills
The distant hills call to me
Their rolling waves seduce my heart
Oh, how I want to graze in their lush valleys
Oh, how I want to run down their green slopes
Alas, I cannot
Damn the electric fence
Damn the electric fence!
...Thank you.
Man, where´s the RT crew when you need it?
Distant Hills
The distant hills call to me
Their rolling waves seduce my heart
Oh, how I want to graze in their lush valleys
Oh, how I want to run down their green slopes
Alas, I cannot
Damn the electric fence
Damn the electric fence!
...Thank you.
Icewind Gate II Improved engine, third edition rules and the full BG2 storyline.
If you ever fall off the Sears Tower, just go real limp, because maybe you'll look like a dummy and people will try to catch you because, hey, free dummy.
Love is a perky elf dancing a merry little jig and then suddenly he turns on you with a miniature machine gun.
--Matt Groening
If you ever fall off the Sears Tower, just go real limp, because maybe you'll look like a dummy and people will try to catch you because, hey, free dummy.
Love is a perky elf dancing a merry little jig and then suddenly he turns on you with a miniature machine gun.
--Matt Groening
@Jaesha:..LOL..I Like it.!!!
Very clever
Thanks for posting *HUG*
*Cracks Whip @ Jaesha* Hush You......we'll have none of that in here...
Besides, we already have a Hot Tub
Very clever
Thanks for posting
*HUG*Originally posted by Jaesha
*Calling all flamers and spammers, we have a happy thread on line 3" Would somebody bring in some noise?
Man, where´s the RT crew when you need it?
*Cracks Whip @ Jaesha* Hush You......we'll have none of that in here...
Besides, we already have a Hot Tub
Scayde Moody
(Pronounced Shayde)
The virtue of self sacrifice is the lie perpetuated by the weak to enslave the strong