| The Mage and the Maiden Among the islands across the seas Among the myriad of reefs and reeds There once had lived the wisest sage Whose lores spoke of a fiery mage And this mage whose name was but a letter Was a writer of words seldom better A mason of words was what he became A chess of words was indeed his best game And this mage whose name was but a dot Started to write a lore of a graven lot Everything he did was done in fours Four birds witches emotions of lores There upon the hill near lived a maiden Whose hair was red like a crimson falcon Whose will was paved with a precious stone That shadowed her passion forever alone And that maiden whose name I shall keep hidden Into the wisest sage lore she was then written As one impassionate and nonchalant of a jailbird As one with of all emotions and fire then cloistered But one short summer day Off the hill she went away To the mage's house she went To see the mage was her intent Her face was tight in anger Her fist clenched like a boxer With one swing she broke the door And stamped her foot on the floor The mage gave quite a jolt And to the door he did bolt There stood the fiery maiden There stood the wisest mage There stood the angry maiden There stood the atoned sage Her cheeks redder than her hair Her anger more than she could bear Her eyes were ablaze with temptous fire And from her mouth came the word "Liar!" And her eyes were set in stone And her voice took a madder tone "Nonchalant"? she raged, fist shaking "Impassionate?"she cried, foot stamping And just as the aura tightened Just as the rage gave no token The mage smiled The mage laughed The maiden still mad Her temper still as bad The mage held her hand And told her to disband And reassured her temper And told her to return later And back to her hill she went And back to his lore he relent Among the islands across the seas Among the myriad of reefs and reeds There once had lived the wisest sage There once had lived the fiery maiden And this mage whose name was but a letter Was a writer of words seldom better A mason of words was what he became A chess of words was his best game And the best lore he wrote was read by all Including that maiden while within her hall Whose gentle hair a conflageration of crimson Whose gentle hair was red like a velvet falcon And so she read her neighbor's lore And so she read of tales of yore Three birds witches emotions and her Legends tales of heros and of her And so she read her neighbor's lore And saw his words of emotions she bore And saw herself done with the deepest passion And saw herself written in a fiery fashion And there were his words of his judgement And there were his words of his atonement And there were his words of her personality And there were his words of her vitality And so to herself loud she read these words "And that maiden whose name I shall keep hidden In to the wise sage's lore she was then written As one ablaze with reckoning fiery passion As one afire with the inferno of a velvet falcon And it was not until the day that she came to me And it was not until the day that she talked to me In anger and emotion In fire and commotion That I scarce was sure I knew her dire Before I wrote her in without her fire But now I have learned my true mistake And her fiery temper forever a keepsake And if you should see that dear maiden Whose hair set ablaze like that of a falcon Then pass to her my kindest apology And say to her these immortal words 'Very Sorry'" -Qihong Bao Queer Ballad |
| A Brother's Love Few are as pure as White sun through satin sashes Ivory moon through crimson dawn Sweet savory kiss of a lover And The intangible love for a sibling Ah, dearest doting sister How I relish your fond phrases of wisdom That silent encouragement That soliciting rebuke That vial of innocence I dost hold dear So much like the transpiration of lovers Yet so different Yet just as melodious Yet just as sensuous Yet I hold just as dear Perhaps far more Your voice I hold as thunder Your words I hold as sacred Your wisdom I hold forever Do you, perhaps, walk your own path? Upon that jade jubilant yellow brick road Upon that path of golden life and emerald dreams But it's dark But it's silent But it's lonely And snuffingly cold Would you then Accept me As the nordic star? |
Fencing v. 2.0 Come, taunted one Come, beckoned it En garde, said the other En garde, the challenge done Two ribbons Two dancers Embracing Clashing In, thrusted one Out, parried the other And so the two became one And so the one became two And so the clashing resonated A trickle of blood For every trickle of sweat Until that climax Until that intersection Will the two Truly be one. -Qihong Bao Now THAT's clear. |
| Beat of a different drummer: Can you hear my heart beat against your ear? That lightningless thunder? That veiled somber smothered silent sound? That poetic rhythm in iambic pentameter? Can you hear my heart beat against your will? That deletrious thorn piercing your eardrum? That morbidly disturbing resonance of my life? That dark dreary pallid vibration against your freedom? Stop it, you tell me. Cease it, you tell me. Snuff it, you tell me. That Thunder Rumble Knock Ram Beating of my heart. And now it's stopped. The clearing after the storm. No more thunder No more lightling No more drumming of my chest against your will I'm still here. I'm still alive. I'm still sheltered Inside your very heart For you are much too accustomed To the beating of my heart So long have you loathed it So long have you wished for it to cease So long have you tried to stop it That you could not live without it So that now you still hold me That remenant of the beating That revenant of the heart That remaning drop of thunder And so much have you cherished it And so much have you desired it And so little have you to spare That you kept it where it will be kept Your own heart. My heart. - what do you think? |
| Try this out. New code from friend. (I'm cancer) |
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