Ozymandias

Lesee... Dork! Dweeb! Dingus! Nerd! Bah, just haven't been called anything creative (that's fit to print).

Minutes passed, slipping already into their second hour since Myth and Y'Tren had left, yet Timothy still had not stirred. The silence had at first been awkward, but after some time, Gyrfalcon reasserted his belief in their quest. "We've come this far," said he, jaw set with the tiniest hint of a smile on his lips, "No force on Terra can stop us now." Kaleyra nodded her silent assent, and was comforted. The two sat and watched the ocean until finally the anticipation of their goal built to a near crescendo. Exchanging knowing glances, Gyrfalcon nodded to his avian companion, stood, and strode purposefully over to the prone form of their other scholar. "Come on Tim, we're losing daylight. We'd- " The half-elf mage king stopped short as he saw for the first time the look of utter horror in the young man's wide open eyes. "Gyr...falcon...Kaleyra...attend.", Timothy managed through the rictus of his lips.

The person above me has an unshakeable faith. And is very, VERY silly.

Ozymandias slowly nods approval, and stands, drawing his sword. Holding it like a banner in front of him, he says simply, "From one warrior's life to another". Lowering the blade, Oz taps the tip to the floor in a short swordsman's applause. Peter stands and applauds for awhile. Looking at Ryan seriously, he comments, "Simple words weighed with a lot of meaning. I admire your absolute faith and utter lack of hate. Both are few and far between these days." With that, he motions away from the stage. "Come on, it's a bit cold today. I know where we can get some great caramel apple cider."

I've been drunk once. Thankfully, I did not lose all the control I expected to, only in my thoughts, but even that frightened me enough I'll not do it again. I've got a friend who regularly tore my heart out because she was so addicted to pot, and didn't seem to care. I've seen death, and many of the horrible abuses we can heap on ourselves and others. But apathy to me is one of the most insidious, and that's what that damned stuff gives you. It especially hurt, like you said Justin, because she's my friend, and didn't care about all the incredible good in her she let atrophy and die because that would take too much effort away from her "feeling good". I felt like a worthless idiot when I saw no reaction to any plea or action I took to help her. So I stopped talking to her, because she seemed resolute in her choices and I saw the point at which she started dragging me down with her. Late last year, we met again for the first time in years. She's still addicted, and as bullheaded as ever, but is actually intentionally or unintentionally weaning herself away from the stuff as she's started to make progress in life. So we've started hanging out together again, and I keep my counsel quiet, and my cheering loud. We're resilient, we humans, and came come back from anything, if we let ourselves. As always, an exemplary poem in structure, word choice and imagery. Really.

Ooo...I likes poems that give such accurate and eloquent insight to any seemingly so insignificant events as smearing paint around on paper with a brush, scribbling down your thoughts, or trying to carry a tune. Bravo! Oz applauds enthusiastically.

I heartily agree with Vlad's second throught fifth comments. Keep the title. Unspecified menace is so much better I think; because the unknown is so often more scary than the known. That, and I think most poetry does well with a good amount of room for interpretation, even in the title.

Eloquent pathos in the car. I like it!!!! You captured muderous/lonely/depressed feelings while driving beautifully.

Your poem has a very sardonic Lewis Carroll outlook to it. That's what I like most about it.

The person above me is so refined and patient I'm amazed she EVER played Archmage. ;>)

There is heat, but no fire in the land of the doubles. Bog, but no mire in the land of the doubles. Work, but no hire in the land of the doubles.

What stuck out for me was the refusal to strike her because she's a woman, even though the opinion given on her was that the speaker likes her less than dirt. A thought-provoking glimpse into the calm thoughts behind a red haze...

The mythic imagery they deserve. Bravi. And I'll glady help, Mira.

My optimistic nature sees this poem as the war we all fight at some point- our hope up against not depravity, violence, or perversity, but apathy, sloth, and callousness. They are much more frightening enemies because they are so much more subtle than overt evil, so few recognize their onset before they have done great harm. Well done.

I too, wondered a bit about the line "every thought of you dead". It seemed rather more despairing than the rest of the poem, but then on rereading it did seem to fit more as the poem seemed to read more of anguished frustration that deep, dark sadness. In all, a well put harangue on how slow our minds can be compared to our hearts...

I know not a lick of Italian but pulled at all of my Latin education for all I'm worth to try and understand the most general of meanings from the poem before I noticed you'd written out the English too, underneath. {:>) I any case, I was only able to garner (again, until the English) that the speaker was probably addressing a lover, but even written in this language I'm rather hopeless with, understanding maybe six to seven words and following the beat and tune of the piece I could hear the speaker's passion and fervency. Well done! Twice! On a side note, I think a Kender who's lost their dream is one of the saddest things I've ever heard of.

Oof. There are words but no knowledge in the land of the doubles. There is bark but no bite in the land of the doubles.

Ozymandias smiles and claps quietly. I tend to think "always messy". :>) Well said.

Sense of wonder fades and falters Cynics say it does not matter Some look for diversions to imagine for them Others have no time for such pleasantries as fantasy Yet for every time that lone one asks When will I see a purple cow H G Wells wonders What if we could travel to the moon Children fill with questions of a world too huge to comprehend As they get older questions dwindle only in focus Until the forest cannot be seen for the trees But again the most hard minded scientist must ask How? and Why? and seek answer Magic never leaves it only hides waiting eagerly to be found The greatest mystery what's out there? what's it all for? has those dedicating it their lives even now Ending in the pursuit of bringing all magic is nobility and love I aspire to For those who have done so You remain in my heart I salute you Dedicated to the crew of the space shuttle Columbia.

When I look at you, what do you see? The fear, The anger, The anxiety look back at me. When I look at you, what do you see? The lies, The tears, The fist flailing impotently. When I look at you, what do you see? The light's all shining on me, sometimes I can barely see, for the joy, the kindness, the courage, the tenacity. When I look at you, what do you see?

Way back before 1997 (when *I* first got online) I read the poem "Ozymandias" by Percy Bysshe Shelley in some English class somewhere and rather liked its style. Years went by and I forgot all about it. 97 rolled around and I jumped onto the net with both feet. gaming, chat rooms, e-mail, etc. - probably ten hours out of every day. But before I could get started (having just seen the movie "Hackers", I think) I knew I needed a cool nickname. Ozymandias came to mind. I had no idea what it was, but went with it. It had style, panache, all that good stuff. (Or so I like to think ;>) ) More years passed, and 2000 rolled around and I stumbled on "Ozymandias" in a new poetry book. Rereading it, I liked the poem even more, seeing it for the warning against hubris it is, and then proceeded to enjoy the name for the double entendre of egotism and humility it reprsented. I like to leave myself subtle personal conduct reminders like that. I think I've used a grand total of five other nicknames online since '97, and none have ever stuck. :

Glad to see that you made the right decision, F2. I would've had to give you SUCH a smack! Seriously, this topic title had me worried. Stick around, my friend.

Dirt and a coffin lid explode into the air, knocking flat a small, moldering cardboard marker. Amidst the rain of soil, the lid falls, spins thrice on a corner, then too falls, still. Several seconds pass before a figure clad in midnight blue slowly raises itself upright in the open grave. In one smooth motion, the stranger brushes the last dirt clods from whitening grey hair with one hand and flicks detritus from elegant robes with the other. Steely blue eyes gaze analytically out of an olive face, then cross as the olive sking turns bright red and the man begins making small choking noises accompanied by frantic gesturing. Finally, he spits up a huge, wet dirt clod onto the ground. "Fine way to hibernate. That is the LAST time I use Vlad as a travel agent for some R&R," he mutters to himself. Merry met, One and all. It's good to be back.

Hm. Ozymandias Ah-zee-mahn-dee-us Close enough, I wager.

Almost forgot! For the record, the ranks mean thus (in descending order of importance): 1)Achievement 2)Skill 3)Duty Achievement in the accomplishments you have made with your own particular skills (be it great service to the Pen, learning something new, helping one person, several, really working your butt off in general, etc. That's a bit vague, I apologize. But right now, that's the clearest I've got.) Skill in what we (the Elders) recognize you as being very good at. Certainly not meant as a definition of you or your work, more as praise (they're an incredible poet, moving essayist, etc.). And finally, the higher-ups (beyond Quill-Bearers) have mod priveliges and up. Yep, you get to help run things! MWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!