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Professor T

The poets Challenge.

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hmmm a poem about an unlikey dwarf who's beard burned and having trouble with his dwarfen friends everyday ? :D

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hmmm a poem about an unlikey dwarf who's beard burned and having trouble with his dwarfen friends everyday ? :D

Fundin Regin a villager of no reason

deep below mountain a man of ore

wed to his lantern by morning

prayers said to Chthonic lords

through night meaningless below

and onto the next day

Fundin Regin axing away

Fundin Regin axing in his sleep

walk into a smelting pit

if not for Durin Dvalin

who caught his collar

our friend was not smelted

but lost his beard

and charred his face

Now don't give a kindin'

to Fundin Regin

or make a hero of Durin Dvalin

for they did as dwarves do

as long as the hills

now if you happen to see ole Fundin Regin

be sure to tell him he looks like a drow

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Fundin Regin a villager of no reason

deep below mountain a man of ore

wed to his lantern by morning

prayers said to Chthonic lords

through night meaningless below

and onto the next day

Fundin Regin axing away

Fundin Regin axing in his sleep

walk into a smelting pit

if not for Durin Dvalin

who caught his collar

our friend was not smelted

but lost his beard

and charred his face

Now don't give a kindin'

to Fundin Regin

or make a hero of Durin Dvalin

for they did as dwarves do

as long as the hills

now if you happen to see ole Fundin Regin

be sure to tell him he looks like a drow

hahahahah nicely done

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hmmm a poem about an unlikey dwarf who's beard burned and having trouble with his dwarfen friends everyday ? :D

Cool, Thanks for posting!..

Wee Stubble

Winston Wheelbarrow, "Rope almighty" by nickname,

Once left his sweet home in search of great fame.

With braided beard the length of a rope,

Be sought new horizons and to give people hope.

And years passed and Winston found adventures by score,

Helping out strangers and defeating enemies at war.

by "Rope Almighty" his new friends knew his name,

Wee Winston's prowess was honoured by fame.

He came then one day to ruins in flame and in siege,

And trapped on high balcony under burning eves,

A human child was pleading for help and for hope!

And Winston leapt forward and threw down his rope.

He saved the young lass, by lowering her gently,

into the arms of Friends, family and gentry.

But flames did then burn and he could barely cope,

And Winston Wheelbarrow lost his sweet rope..

For many a year he then hid from the world,

For beardless wee Winston felt frail and old.

Then courage he found, it was home that he yearned.

To old home in the mountains after many years he returned.

In Dwarven culture, the length of one's prowess,

is measured in inches from chin to beard tip.

So Winston Wheelbarrow, with barely an inch on his chin,

was nicknamed "wee stubble!", by old friends and by kin.

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Cool, Thanks for posting!..

Wee Stubble

Winston Wheelbarrow, "Rope almighty" by nickname,

Once left his sweet home in search of great fame.

With braided beard the length of a rope,

Be sought new horizons and to give people hope.

And years passed and Winston found adventures by score,

Helping out strangers and defeating enemies at war.

by "Rope Almighty" his new friends knew his name,

Wee Winston's prowess was honoured by fame.

He came then one day to ruins in flame and in siege,

And trapped on high balcony under burning eves,

A human child was pleading for help and for hope!

And Winston leapt forward and threw down his rope.

He saved the young lass, by lowering her gently,

into the arms of Friends, family and gentry.

But flames did then burn and he could barely cope,

And Winston Wheelbarrow lost his sweet rope..

For many a year he then hid from the world,

For beardless wee Winston felt frail and old.

Then courage he found, it was home that he yearned.

To old home in the mountains after many years he returned.

In Dwarven culture, the length of one's prowess,

is measured in inches from chin to beard tip.

So Winston Wheelbarrow, with barely an inch on his chin,

was nicknamed "wee stubble!", by old friends and by kin.

ahhh poor guy .. think he'll ever recover ? that was good none the less great choice of words and rhythems :D

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ahhh poor guy .. think he'll ever recover ? that was good none the less great choice of words and rhythems :D

Great. Glad you enjoyed it.

Hmmm, good point, I kind of ended that we story poem in the middle didn't I.

Right.. Challenge continued!!

Wee Stubble Part 2

Winston Wheelbarrow, we stubble by name,

An inch for a beard, the villagers shame.

No dwarven wife would ever he take,

for pathetic was beard for goodness sake!

In Mountain mine village, market or pub,

his shoulder with kinsmen would never he rub.

They saw with distain the length of his beard,

wee stubble, they'd whisper, lest they be heard.

Many a year did he suffer in life,

wanting goodness and love of a wife,

So Winston moved back to the world of tall men,

crossed mountains and forests and grassy glen.

He came back to houses and found he some friends.

He shaved clean his face and in self made amends.

Barely a month from new year his heart skipped a beat

he saw a young woman who stood at only three feet!

She fell in his arms and he carried her away,

They were married at temple that very day!

And in warm home she spoke with such joy,

her story, you see was a real McCoy!

"I remember my savior" said softly did she,

"Not an inch did I grow from the age of three"

"Saved from the flames by a beard braided rope"

"I've married my savior true I do hope"

He fathered many a child did Winston Wheelbarrow.

And moved with great family to the great distant wilds.

To a land they called Mig-lurth, a place they called Sheiara.

Today better known, as Middle Earth and Shire.

They lived out their days with fun and with laugher!

They lived on in safety, happily ever after.. (lol)

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Great. Glad you enjoyed it.

Hmmm, good point, I kind of ended that we story poem in the middle didn't I.

Right.. Challenge continued!!

Wee Stubble Part 2

Winston Wheelbarrow, we stubble by name,

An inch for a beard, the villagers shame.

No dwarven wife would ever he take,

for pathetic was beard for goodness sake!

In Mountain mine village, market or pub,

his shoulder with kinsmen would never he rub.

They saw with distain the length of his beard,

wee stubble, they'd whisper, lest they be heard.

Many a year did he suffer in life,

wanting goodness and love of a wife,

So Winston moved back to the world of tall men,

crossed mountains and forests and grassy glen.

He came back to houses and found he some friends.

He shaved clean his face and in self made amends.

Barely a month from new year his heart skipped a beat

he saw a young woman who stood at only three feet!

She fell in his arms and he carried her away,

They were married at temple that very day!

And in warm home she spoke with such joy,

her story, you see was a real McCoy!

"I remember my savior" said softly did she,

"Not an inch did I grow from the age of three"

"Saved from the flames by a beard braided rope"

"I've married my savior true I do hope"

He fathered many a child did Winston Wheelbarrow.

And moved with great family to the great distant wilds.

To a land they called Mig-lurth, a place they called Sheiara.

Today better known, as Middle Earth and Shire.

They lived out their days with fun and with laugher!

They lived on in safety, happily ever after.. (lol)

you seem to know much about dwarf suffering of losing beard any coincedince ? something wanna share with us ? :P

awesome poem though :D

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Challenge: A poem, song, whatever.. Something personal about an insight, or an important lesson in life..

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Challenge: A poem, song, whatever.. Something personal about an insight, or an important lesson in life..

Truth inspires to everyone

A different melody

You don't have to worry

You have your own song

But you don't need to sing your truth to me

Listen to your heart

Beating listlessly, for what?

Keeping your mind alive,

But that won't keep it free

Spinning, you don't have to spin for me

Turning, you needn't touch my key

Your fortunes are your own

Your truth will make you free

Quitely onward, Pilgrims cry

They won't admit their own defeat

Defeated them in victory

Wearily their searches die

My truth has set me free

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Seen as the weather is going to pack it in again, thought I'd revive this in the hope of getting some challenges going..

Just so there's no confusion.

A challenge is a request for a Poem/song/or rhymy whatever.

Once a challenge is accepted it is "Liked" then "quoted" then the poem/song/whatever is posted below the quote..

Anyone can join in by posting challenges or accepting them by quoting the challenge and posting the response below.

Edited by Professor T

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Phew, finally got to this one.. Thanks for posting it.

Naw.. I don't like sad.. But here goes..

Dog's point of view.

As a pup we played, my master and I,

And ran though the yard under a clear blue sky.

And in the winter eves when the cold wind blew,

we wrapped up together in blankets me and you.

And we grew up together my master and me,

playing run and go fetch, by the young oak tree.

It was he who grew strong, and I who grew old,

Four years to his one, or so I have been told.

Gradually we no longer played, my master and me,

Nor raced round the yard by the old oak tree.

My master grew cold, and hips they grew old,

incontinent dog and whiny mutt I was told.

But I loved my dear master I have to declare,

Even when words were said in despair.

I loved him when "Come on" said last spoke me,

And opened back door and stamped impatiently.

I loved him when took he the gun from it's rack,

And guided me silently to the shed out the back.

I looked up and wagged my old tail in glee,

two barrels, a squinting eye, the last thing I'd see.

sad-dog.jpg

P.T., you b******! That made me cry a bit.

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A new challenge.

Maybe a very short story about loss.

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I would like someone to write a poem about one of their best or worst dreams, whichever you prefer. Try to recreate the emotions/sensations you felt best as possible. You choose the the style.

Cold and stark, the surface is so alien
yet familiar
	to my fingertips
	my palm
	my cheek
	my chest.

It is icy and cozy, this floor below me
yet inviting
	to my curiosity
	my eyes
		open.


Where am I?


I breath deeply the emptiness all alone
yet together
	with all that is
	my soul
	my heart
	my being.

Disjointed.

Stand up!!
  Okay, I stand.
   Where am I?

This place so foreign
I remember from before
	the end is coming soon
		and there is no stopping it.

		    Why?

Three walls, a ceiling, a floor, and...
openness.
	Complete openness
	no limits
	no structure
	no form.

I see no colors, only the dark and light
the dark is out
	there
the light is my cell
	these three walls, ceiling, and floor

How did I get here?

What is out there?  I creep to the edge and peer...
a wall
	above me
	below me
	to my left
	to my right

It makes no sense.  It extends to infinity...
above, below, right, and left... infinity...  the wall...

I see other cells.  It is a wall of cells.
All occupied
	just like mine.

Can I climb down?
too far...

Can I climb up?
too high...

Over?  No.
We sit.
	And wait.
		Together.

			Alone.


What
is
	that?


I see it, don't you?
What is it?
	That...  block?
		What is it doing?
	That perfect cube...

Slow. Relentless.
Inevitable.
	I realize...
		It is coming home...

It has a perfect form.
The cube.
	Just like my cell.
		A perfect cube.

I scream but my cry is isolated.
Just like me.
	Alone.  In this cell.

		I smile.

It comes.

There is no stopping it.
Slow.
	Relentless.
		Inevitable.

A perfect fit for a perfect cube.
A perfect beginning.
	A perfect end.
		A perfect dream...
			A Nightmare...

It closes the gap so slow
yet so fast
	to fill the fourth wall
	my view
	my hopes
	my goals.

The infinite openness is gone
and I wait
	for the end is near.
		It presses against me.

I struggle, but there is no point.
I know it now just as I did before.
	I don't struggle long.


Cold and stark, the surface is so alien
yet familiar
	to my fingertips
	my palm
	my cheek
	my chest.

I breath deeply the emptiness all alone
yet together
	with all that is
	my soul
	my heart
	my being.

It is icy and cozy, this cube crushing me
yet inviting
	to my curiosity
	my eyes
		close.


And I finally awaken...

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P.T., you b******! That made me cry a bit.

Lol... Tee-he

It must have hit a chord with your empathy..

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Lol... Tee-he

It must have hit a chord with your empathy..

Yes it did, and may I thank you and damn you to hell at the same time. :)

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Cold and stark, the surface is so alien
   yet familiar
       to my fingertips
       my palm
       my cheek
       my chest.

It is icy and cozy, this floor below me
   yet inviting
       to my curiosity
       my eyes
           open.


Where am I?


I breath deeply the emptiness all alone
   yet together
       with all that is
       my soul
       my heart
       my being.

Disjointed.

Stand up!!
  Okay, I stand.
      Where am I?

This place so foreign
   I remember from before
       the end is coming soon
           and there is no stopping it.

               Why?

Three walls, a ceiling, a floor, and...
   openness.
       Complete openness
       no limits
       no structure
       no form.

I see no colors, only the dark and light
   the dark is out
       there
   the light is my cell
       these three walls, ceiling, and floor

How did I get here?

What is out there?  I creep to the edge and peer...
   a wall
       above me
       below me
       to my left
       to my right

It makes no sense.  It extends to infinity...
above, below, right, and left... infinity...  the wall...

I see other cells.  It is a wall of cells.
   All occupied
       just like mine.

Can I climb down?
   too far...

Can I climb up?
   too high...

Over?  No.
   We sit.
       And wait.
           Together.

               Alone.


What
   is
       that?


I see it, don't you?
   What is it?
       That...  block?
           What is it doing?
       That perfect cube...

Slow. Relentless.
   Inevitable.
       I realize...
           It is coming home...

It has a perfect form.
   The cube.
       Just like my cell.
           A perfect cube.

I scream but my cry is isolated.
   Just like me.
       Alone.  In this cell.

           I smile.

It comes.

There is no stopping it.
   Slow.
       Relentless.
           Inevitable.

A perfect fit for a perfect cube.
   A perfect beginning.
       A perfect end.
           A perfect dream...
               A Nightmare...

It closes the gap so slow
   yet so fast
       to fill the fourth wall
       my view
       my hopes
       my goals.

The infinite openness is gone
   and I wait
       for the end is near.
           It presses against me.

I struggle, but there is no point.
   I know it now just as I did before.
       I don't struggle long.


Cold and stark, the surface is so alien
   yet familiar
       to my fingertips
       my palm
       my cheek
       my chest.

I breath deeply the emptiness all alone
   yet together
       with all that is
       my soul
       my heart
       my being.

It is icy and cozy, this cube crushing me
   yet inviting
       to my curiosity
       my eyes
           close.


And I finally awaken...

Wow boony, quite chilling! Nicely done. :tu:

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Cool, Thanks for posting!..

Wee Stubble

Winston Wheelbarrow, "Rope almighty" by nickname,

Once left his sweet home in search of great fame.

With braided beard the length of a rope,

Be sought new horizons and to give people hope.

.....

Great job ProT

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Wow boony, quite chilling! Nicely done. :tu:

Thank you Sarah :)

One of my least favorite night terrors when I was young. Not that any of them were very pleasant, of course. :P

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A new challenge.

Maybe a very short story about loss.

You said a very short story not a poem:

The screams are always the same

High pitched, seemingly without end

There is nothing you can do, nothing you can say

You can feel their loss, but, it is 'their' loss

They are the one's who have to deal with it

And they all deal with it the same exact way

Disbelief, the scream, denial

Until they see the body

Lying on the gurney in the Emergency Room

They wail over the body, every time, every single time

Every single one of them

The screams, the denial, the wailing

The pain of the loss

It's Universal

Beyond ethnicity

Beyond culture

Beyond finance

CPR in the ER is no one's friend

Especially the one performing

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George Carlin was a hilarious man, but I think people here would like to hear something original. There's many challenges, back through the pages that no one would mind if you brought one back to life. Hope to hear something.

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New challenge. A humerous halloween themed poem from the point of view of a pumpkin. :)

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I had a lot of fun writing this one! Good choice for a challenge!

Every year

the same old spit

carve me out

and light the wick

I'm chucked from catapults

heaved from high places

thrown from moving cars

and make ridiculous faces

I wish I could be left alone

in the rain as I wash

and just simply hang

on the vine with my squash

Or I wish I were a dessert

with my rinds now junkin'

but no one makes pie

with a orange cow punkin

For now

I guess I'll make due

cuz it's a hell of a lot better

than a flaming bag of poo

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Hahaha that is fantastic! Great job. :tsu:

Edited by sarah_444
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Challenge - Change

Button my coat

the night chill greets my face

looking around I see a haze developing

one foot in front of another now

walking slowly

contemplating my life

light a cigarette, long slow drag

exhale

walking slowly

I've lost so much lately

hard to decide what I've gained

wisdom perhaps?

difficult to say

I feel no wiser

just older, sadder

I still have whats most important

for those girls I'm thankful

they keep me

walking slowly

as opposed to stepping in front of trucks

take a drag

exhale

everyday I am changing

though its hard to feel sometimes

see her face in my mind

heart winces briefly

she's better off without me

walking slowly

changing constantly

another ghost in the haze

walking slowly.

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Im accepting my own challenge, I couldn't resist.

I am orange, fat and round

sitting on the mucky ground

children come here

through farm gates

one by one

carry away my mates

a little boy picked me up

I went for a ride

in his dad's pick up truck

he took me home

and called me "Jack"

to that field of mud

I'll never go back

he carved two eyes into me

so wherever I went

I could see

grabbed a candle

short and thick

with a flame

he then lit it's wick

I gave a clever wink with my eye

because to tell the truth

you cannot lie

it's Halloween

and i'd rather be

a silly pumpkin face

then Gramma's pie!

Edit...had to fix something that didn't sound right.

Edited by sarah_444
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