Peredhil

Peredhil rushes in and reads RAH! Using a talent like yours for a Happy Thing, now that makes my morning bright. Thank you! Thank you very much. I like it!

Interesting imagery. Complex read. But then, I can't write either. I'll be quiet now...

Peredhil wishes he could free-style rap, but all his stuff sounds the same to him. That was really neat. Rapping about MOLES(?) on request? I'm impressed!

As you know, I'm sucker for Fantasy motifs. But I'm big on loyalty as well. You really know how to jerk my chain! fun read, well done

Good meaty subject, dealt with well... I sometimes confuse dost and doth myself - perhaps some checks are in order? One suggestion I've been given: write it in modern English and then translate back to Middle English. Ensures flow and correct usage. For me, it also ruined the mood (something important to my writing), but I pass the idea on for your consideration.

Peredhil looks at Ozymandias respectfully. Thank you for putting your finger on it! Every one hurts. The Chosen Few (or Cursed Few) express it in verse or rhyme. But not many show the indomitable spirit you show, Rahsash! You show your weaknesses and pain, yet transform it into a form of strength, giving hope to all who read. Good Reader's Insight, Oh Founder! Great writing Rahsash!

Peredhil melts. Oh... That is so sweet! Reminds me of the kittens I have. Looks over at his eighteen-year-old lazy cat, who distains strings. Suddenly I want another kitten. I like this.

graphic. Rather evocative of Joan of Arc, but of course, she was burnt. Nice meter, easy to read aloud. -P

Your honesty was a mallet While my heart to you was glass Now we're dealing with the shards Of betrayals in the past. We still love one another That at least is true But how do we piece together Shards without some glue? We eye each other warily And use care when we embrace Scintillantly shards of pain Are difficult to face. And so we circle endlessly At times it looks quite bleak We tread lightly in this dance Shivered shards are no gleek. 'Tis time to look directly Perhaps sight's been too peripheral We need to see more deepily Not develop defenses pharisaical. I sit here gathering slivered shards Hands bleed but they'll suffice To forge once more a working heart To be love's sacrifice.

Two small white mice dressed in poorly-fitting suits, obviously stolen from a Ken and Barbie doll set, scamper in squeaking nerviously. Looking around, they spy their mystic Parasol, and quickly run their way over and then up the coat-rack to hide in the Parasol's Politely Protective folds.

I don’t want to be the one, Who only meets a need - I want you to need me. I don’t want only to be your refuge From the world’s pain I want to build a home. I don’t want you to give up yourself I want you to become you And we can build We. You offer what I once wanted, I find I’ve grown beyond that, I want more something deeper. I wonder if you can understand, Something so outside you, When your own pain is so blinding?

(Date stamp/conversion confusion, this is actually the fourth post) Painfull...raw...and very well written. Good work, although I'd wish you peace. -Peredhil

Gary Larson had a cartoon once, in which their were two panels. In the uppers panel, a young man lies on his bed, the full moon shining through the window. His thought balloon shows him agonizing, Something to the effect of: "She likes me. She doesn't know I exist. No, she looked at me in the Hallway! But I'd sneezed. Maybe she likes me! She just smiles at everyone." Etc. The bottom panel shows a young lass in her bed. The same full moon shines through her window. Her thought balloon shows the text: "I think I like vanilla best." The cartoon caption reads: "Same Planet, Different Worlds." I used to think, all those years ago, in High School, that I lived that cartoon. The agonies through which I'd put myself! Have you tried talking to the fellow? It collapses so many probabilities into a reality, which then can be enjoyed or survived as the case may be... Hugs For what it's worth, Peredhil

Peredhil reads and gets starry-eyed. I love love poetry. It's the Elf in my I suppose. I vote a 'well-done' myself. It's hard enough to stay vulnerable to one's love, a little sincere cloaking behind hyperbole is just fine. -P

That's really really impressive... How in the world did you get EZBOARD to center for you! No, seriously, that's really neat - word art that mimics poem content. Nicely done Wyvern. -Peredhil

The Sixties, yes, the Sixties. Time of hope, time of rebellion, time for planning new ways to do things, ways that could (supposedly) not be any worse than the status quo. In contrast to most of the other movements of the time, one very active group combined militant vegetarianism (not so uncommon) with militant alcoholic prohibitionism (very uncommon). They believed, in fact, that the first would automatically lead to perfect health. Eat only vegetables, love one another, and the desire and drive to consume that Demon Rum would just pass away. In Summation, This movement believed that: Peas would rule the planets, and love would clear the bars. It was the dawning of the age of asparagus.

Peredhil congradulates Bhurin on his entry into the Pen! A few ranks late. Congradulations on your Promotion as well! Another buried gem. I like this, but then, I'm a sucker for Role Playing Game inspired works. It scans well and flows smoothly before dropping off. -Peredhil

This has a delightfully Medaeval feel to it, while bearing the traditional cautionary tone. Nicely done, and fun to recite aloud. -Peredhil

What a gem lying buried with no replies in thread! This poem is contrary and disturbing - as fits the vacillating reactions of its subject. A poem to be read as carefully as one grasps a thorny rose stem. -Peredhil

I love these. From whimsical to sad, you play the heart's strings like a lyre. [hint] I'd love to see more...[/hint] -Peredhil

And themselves say that wide travel educates the soul... Travel to the local pub and a stout ale can lubricate the eyes! Me Irish ancestors bow in your general direction. Big Peredhil (and I'm not about being one of the Little People, don't you know?)

I like the elemental progression. Peredhil hugs some trees. I like the sentimental expression. Equating family and friend, P agrees.

Peredhil gazes at Jakob with a puzzled look. Why whatever do you me- Oh! You thought when I said heavenly bodies I meant that- A heavenly body is another name for planets and stars and - Oh never mind. Shocked, Peredhil just trails off with a muttered... "Pervert".

These words rang true, and mournfully... Peredhil's singing trails off. Lyrical and evocative. A small town guy stuck in a megalopolis, I really resonate to this. -Peredhil

Actually, I'm rather glad I'm reading this with a few months time under my belt. poignantly written, expressively well done. -Peredhil