Loki Wyrd

nail and skull meet upon the side of a barn For the raccoon's to look upon with hungry eyes To wonder how such a shriveled glory came to be altar to their worship

With a laundry basket over my head; jeans faded & ink-blotted; nervously, scattered-about-the-room eyes. see the noise splashed upon the ceilings and walls And All of it falls away As gravity becomes my one object; focus Hairy & unappetizingly-dressed as it is. In a circumference no bigger than my forehead Vacuum-sealed for freshness. When I opened it today, It was still good!

This will be my thread to post revised versions of old poems. Some might not closely resemble their original form--happily. Most will likely still be works in progress, or deemed not worth the effort to further alter.

Here I sit A frog am I Fairly quick But not too sly Thinking on days of yore Like yesterday And the day before I do recall the water fair And being placed in little girls' hair But now I'm among the blades of grass Tall and long And hard to pass But I can leap into the clouds I fly far with each and every bound In the distance I do hear A startling sound, quite severe Beneath my feet the earth begins to shake My strong legs begin to quake As I can feel the force draw nigh My heart grows still Darkness takes the sky I flee the only way I know In a panic As fast as I can go But the beast, it still does gain Hopping faster My muscles strain Before I know it I am in the open Not my last regret I'm hoping But the beast turns And I am safe! at long last I always knew Nothing could touch me I'm just too fast

Stepping through the doorway And all I see is everything stretched out on a canvas where time is felt like texture and the colors convey particles of my being Shapes are defined by their surroundings bound by a debris of interaction Now Perspective means that when I approach there will be more to see

I walk through a door Warm, sweaty air Rushes through my hair Silence whispering despair Tread upon in Stygian tremor Reverberating until My footsteps rout Their rise and fall mount Evil draws near: Brutal destruction Of all I hold dear. The door slams shut Sound bounding off the walls That constrain me And the stink of its breath pervades Looking into the eyes of the depraved No solace for my soul Save for the collective space Your whole existence is feeding On those who feel trapped But I see Slowly you eat yourself Now that your bones have snapped And skin drapes over you like so many garments I see that you are but a construct of mine To be cast aside Into some forgotten corner Into some forgotten time

Some of you may actually remember this one. From back when I had little poetry background. Sunshine and butterflies Rainbows and flowers I wonder if If today will bring rain showers Rain in your hair Rain in your eyes Things walking the street Things in disguise Nothing to worry over No need to fret They'll be stealing away children All the children you've met "Calm your pretty head Never you mind It's only a matter A matter of time They always come And they will come soon To take you away Away with the monsoon" The clouds begin to clear And the children are missing But never you mind where For the birds sing, carefree No more rainshowers Only sunshine, and butterflies Rainbows and flowers

My thoughts on this matter: Each person who wants to be involved should make one post with links to what they feel is their best poems of the year (what they want voted on) AND write-ins, submitted by the readers, then voting can take place to decide which is the "best" one or two poems for each writer. The selected poems then can be gathered together in one place as an anthology of Pen Poetry for the year.

Dear Ozymandias, It is my understanding that you have amassed forces along the East and Northern regions of my province. I had not anticipated you sending me laborers--my understanding was that you were against my orchards. Thank you! whatever your reasoning may be, it's good to know we can always turn to each other in times of hardship. You, Sir, are a noble soul. In consideration of your qualities, I shall turn to the soil. Where masses of past intruders and indigenous folk alike are buried. And where the true strength of my lands lie. The decomposing masses shall rise up to allow room for your kind addition to our rich heritage and soil. Down to the very microbes, my country is united in integrating your presence into our own. Soon I will walk your lands, fertilize your vineyards with the blood and bone meal of your populace. We shall rejoice in your halls, my friend! Best Wishes! Loki Wyrd

Jason: Both reaching out to new members and reinvigorating old membership should be our goal. They go together: new members bring fresh voices and energy; old members will participate more with more ruckus about. And I think we all can recognize the importance of senior member involvement--the depth of experience they bring to the community. The idea of connecting the Pen community outside of the forums is a great one I'd like to see continue to develop. I haven't been on IRC in a long time, but maybe I'll come visit. Though I may be an unstable presence. I'm excited to hear of more activities we can launch within the forums. A large event like the festivals of past would be a perfect way to showcase the potential of our creativity. I think the revival tent Peredhil earlier suggested would be an apposite theme. I'd be happy to help coordinate efforts if others are interested.

Again, the hierarchy concern was mostly in regards to newer members not being able to see potentially active forums in the inner sanctum (and the place seeming empty). But if we can stimulate enough activity in the tavern of the quill, it's not such a concern. I can certainly get on board with the boobs suggestion.

Some ideas that I had... A 2010 Pen Poetry Anthology War Declaration (Contest?) An addition to the Piazza of Portaits, where you can post other aspects of your character, such as your home/land. Maybe this already exists?

I thought it would be beneficial to have a thread focused specifically on various events/stories/initiatives that we can start to make it easy for people to get more active within the community. The important part is not only that we brainstorm, but also that we consider how we can go about getting started, and maybe figure out some timelines. I'm working on putting up a revival tent, for any that need to be housed away from the cruelties of the world; or possibly to house various cruelties of our own.

Newcombated, I think. And I like where you're going with your idea! At some point I certainly intend to work on something a bit more lyrical (and long).

You make me laugh. =) I particularly liked your first poem--though I didn't get any laughs from it. To show you how much I like it, I will make some recommendations... To begin with, the first line strikes me as out of place, or maybe incomplete. What is it that's swift as a forest empty of sound? I think that's what's confusing to me. Overall I feel you could use some work on your transitions, making sure there is a connection that can quickly be made so the mind can jump effortlessly as it reads. Let these hands slip Over you and quilted blessings mesh against your ear. ----- consider "Over you: quilted blessings mesh against ear." The tree is over my head, breaking shadows here ----- The tree is over my head--can you think of another way of phrasing this? And there; I'm tired and the workings of my heart Prove futile, stunted from the start. My only suggestion on the 3rd stanza is that I would like "hill" to be hillside, even though it makes the rhyme a bit more complex. Some of what I really like about this poem include your "quilted blessings," "stunted from the start," and your last two lines. You seem to have a knack for grabbing ahold of unique ways of phrase, continue to cultivate this and you'll do well.