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Elegy of the AetherThis tale is true, and it is mine, A whispered truth of days long past. Hark, Friend, and listen close For the shade of time since lost. Once the coming edge of Autumn's Cool and clear crisp blade Brought with the Rime a sense of Space; An open Eternity in which oneElegy of the Aether
Could walk forever in beams of Golden Sun and under Azure sky; A void in which the world doth rest And even God takes a breath of
Freer air than any other seasons bring. But mark, Friend, these hallowed lines, For they are sage and held in Truth: From each young breath of hoary air,
by ~SilentSentinel
The Rose And The CrossIn the shadow of the night, Before the sun had shed its light, The Church sang its holy call, Reaching out to all,The Rose And The Cross
To come and fight in the name of God, To become the Heaven’s diamond rod, To sing out praise in a voice of steel, And force the Heathen’s head to reel.
To the layman the clergy preached, Of sin abound; of cities breeched, To take back Jerusalem was their quest, The place of old where Christ had rest.
But among the sounds of holy zeal, Sang one heart; a mournful peal, For in the morrow he was to be wed, But now,
by ~SilentSentinel
The Emerald WoodI am lost within an emerald wood; A housing place of brown green and gold. A place where the trunks of the trees themselves are young And the ghosts that haunt them born of old.The Emerald Wood
Within its glades I am at rest, Dancing within its profound depths. Although at glance there is little to see, I can glimpse the deep where joy had slept.
This place, it seems, exists in dusk; A shadowed shine filling it all. I bask, fulfilled, within this glow, Longing only to answer the Unknown’s call.
But, alas, I cannot fulfill my wish,
As fate now forces me to
by ~SilentSentinel
Soren the BardThe morning was cold. There was no denying that. Not even a Dwarf would try to tough out this weather: grey skies blown about by a strong, wet wind, with the damp touch of promised rain only early autumn could bring in this part of the Empire. Everyone wanted inside right then, to seek out the warmth and cheer of a roaring fire and hot food brought by pleasant company. But not everyone could fulfill that wish. Soren Nighteye was one of those so unluckily destined. He raised the hood of his well-worn cloak over his head, hunching slightly to avoid the worst of this cursed wind. Drawing the folds around his slim, muscled body, he trSoren the Bard
by ~SilentSentinel
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Devious Info
- Interests: Writing, Music, Thinking
- Favourite band or musician: Blind Guardian, Insomnium, Iron Maiden, Coheed & Cambria, Kamelot, Shadows Fall, Dark Tranquilty
- Favourite genre of music: Metal, Rock
- Favourite poet or writer: Maegan Weems
- MP3 player of choice: iPod
- Shell of choice: Nautilus
- Skin of choice: Human
- Favourite game: DnD 3.5
- Personal Quote: Primum Non Nocere
- Tools of the Trade: Pen, Pencil, Paper, Computer
- Email: ctsutton@cableone.net
- AIM: Tearstone0
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We cannot die in dreams yet they destroy us all the same
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*BlurrFans
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"The mother art is architecture. Without an architecture of our own we have no soul of our own civilization."
-Frank Lloyd Wright
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NO! It's not art just because YOU say it is!!! And Yes I've studied art AND I paint better than you! See for yourself: [link]
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you just wish you could get in my head...hahaha...you'de be severely lost if you were
Took me forever to find your page again.
Stupid me for forgetting DA's layouts.
Just thought to tell you that my PC's abosolutly HATE Libris Mortis. I can just feel their dread when I tell them to make a Fortitude save as I reach for it. ^_^
And I swear there was something else I was going to tell you, I just can't remember what....
I'll figure it out (I hope)
P.S. look for some work soon, I feel a poem coming up.
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I hate to see a family torn apart by something so simple as a pack of wolves.
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