30 minutes? I can write 3 fucking short stories in 30 minutes, a poem should be easy. Apart from that, not bad for a first try.
This isnt an english exam... whats the rush?
Quote from "winstonthe4th" »
I notice the rhyming pattern changes sometimes.
These are the first poems ive ever bothered to write.. i think
Unless you count stupid limericks of the top of your head
There once was man, named Winston the 4th
Who had a fierce disdain for all which was Dwarf
So he furnished some stairs
Too big for Dwarf legs
Now they couldn't get up through the door
30 minutes? I can write 3 fucking short stories in 30 minutes, a poem should be easy. Apart from that, not bad for a first try.
What an odd thing to say? Obviously anyone could write three effing short stories in 30 minutes. That won't mean they're good though. That, or you were just being facetious and I did not pick up on it.
''May the Gods give you the strength and power to bear the madness which flows through our minds.''
''Zubin, I've always imagined you as a crazy raver. The kinda guy that spends all night dancing to trance music while waving glow sticks and popping ecstasy.'' - Murderface
Not too bad there Gen. I do a little poetry, but usually only when I've a had a couple drinks. I think it makes them more amusing. Other than that, nice work...8.5/10
but usually only when I've a had a couple drinks. I think it makes them more amusing.
Poetry on other forms of drugs would be amusing, not that I would ever do that (for multiple reasons).... They probably wouldnt even make any sense when you calmed down aswell
I liked this part
For whilst he was captured
For whilst he was subdued
He could not break free
Yet his Terror exude
Except I don't understand the last line. It sounds good, but I don't get what it means.
And I like this 'becoming his arms' metaphor thing too, its clever:
The shards of his stone
Driven into their palms
Of the six Archbishops
Thus becoming his arms
Terror
Exiled from Hell
By Azmodan and Belial
He was captured in the Soulstone
For none to admire
His voice went unheard
Under the Monastery of Light
Without a human host
Unable to continue his fight
For whilst he was captured
For whilst he was subdued
He could not break free
Yet his Terror exude
So there he lay dormant
Yet to be risen
Patiently waiting
Deep within his eternal prison
The Archbishop Lazarus
Was called down below
To release the unspeakable Terror
On his friends and his foe
Terror was free
Terror had fought
With King Leoric's mind
Terrors victory was naught
Albrecht his son
The heir to the throne
Abducted by Terror
His will had been broke
Terror reformed
Terror revived
Diablo, the Lord of Terror
Left none in Tristram alive
Hatred
The eldest of the three
Was captured and chained
Along with his brothers
He planned his escape
Secured in a vault
A vault of might
Then Buried beneath a temple
The Temple of Light
The secrets of the Soulstones
Had been found out
Hatred was growing
Within the Brethrens doubts
He sang in their ears
Songs of Hatred
Corrupting their souls
They were his for the taking
He commanded the priests
To shatter the stone
To set Hatred free
To find him a host
The shards of his stone
Driven into their palms
Of the six Archbishops
Thus becoming his arms
But Hatred was blind
Hatred was starved
Hatred took Que-Hegan
As his eyes and his mask
Hatred reborn
Hatred survived
Mephisto, the Lord of Hatred
Awaits for Terror to arrive
Destruction
The third and final brother
Imprisoned within the stones
Was eluding his captors
Searching for a way home
He roamed across the sands
Leaving Destruction in his wake
Being hunted for his soul
Which they dare not take
He sensed the Great Tal-Rasha
Approaching now with haste
Eager for his soul
and Destruction laid to waste
Mages precious Soulstone
Shattered within the fight
How will he be captured?
The embodiment of might
Locked in deadly combat
Magic of the ages
Forced Destruction to his knees
Glorious were Tal-Rasha and his mages
The largest shard of Stone
Could not withstand Destruction
Tal Rasha made the sacrifice
To deny his own salvation
The Great Mage pierced his chest
and sacrificed his body
to make an eternal prison
Too proud to admit his folly
Locked within his eternal tomb
Deep underneath the timeless sands
Tal-Rasha and Baal
Wrestle for eternity, hand in hand
I notice the rhyming pattern changes sometimes.
Took you 30 minutes? Good job!
nice work nice work
This isnt an english exam... whats the rush?
This isnt an english exam... whats the rush?
These are the first poems ive ever bothered to write.. i think
Unless you count stupid limericks of the top of your head
There once was man, named Winston the 4th
Who had a fierce disdain for all which was Dwarf
So he furnished some stairs
Too big for Dwarf legs
Now they couldn't get up through the door
There once was a man from Nantucket... oh, nevermind
But on a serious note, i enjoyed your poems, good work!
Siaynoq's Playthroughs
''Zubin, I've always imagined you as a crazy raver. The kinda guy that spends all night dancing to trance music while waving glow sticks and popping ecstasy.'' - Murderface
Amateur...
It's the decisions you make when you have no time to make them that define who you are.
Poetry on other forms of drugs would be amusing, not that I would ever do that (for multiple reasons).... They probably wouldnt even make any sense when you calmed down aswell
For whilst he was captured
For whilst he was subdued
He could not break free
Yet his Terror exude
Except I don't understand the last line. It sounds good, but I don't get what it means.
And I like this 'becoming his arms' metaphor thing too, its clever:
The shards of his stone
Driven into their palms
Of the six Archbishops
Thus becoming his arms
Secured in a vault
A vault of might
Then Buried beneath a temple
The Temple of Light
Even when hes stuck inside the soulstone his terror (being the Lord of Terror) exudes out of the soulstone and effects the people around it.
Thanks for the positive feedback people