Upon your head,
A halo can be found
Innocense is ; innocense does,
When innocense dies
The light fades from your eyes.
By Belladour
17. You are now layed to rest,
All your days you tried your best,
Many battle's fought and won,
Victory song, finally sung.
By Comadore, WW
18. I sit beside a running brook
and listen to it's music
I think of my little nook
far removed from the world
I think of meadow flowers and bees
in the old summers long gone
I listen to the wind in the trees,
and walk o're paths of stone,
I think of golden leaves,
in the autumn's long ago,
I listen to the wind around the eaves,
and dream of white snow.
I think of the coming years,
when winter will turn to spring.
I listen to the sky's wet tears,
fall to my roof with soft pings.
I think of the places I have not seen,
of woods in a different green.
I wish to listen to the wind,
And run my fingers through the grass,
I think of the long ago,
when the earth was young.
I listen to the swirling snow,
and old ballads to be re-sung,
And all this time I sit and think,
Of the seasons that where before
I listen for the sighing wind,
and feet upon my floor.
By: Rona Oakpaw MP
19. The road rolls on forever,
As we tread on our way,
The sun dims or grows brighter,
Whether ending or starting the day,
The road rolls on forever,
Our weary paws march on,
We must go, we must press,
Untill the journey's done,
The road rolls on forever,
Out o're meadows green,
We must march, we must trek,
To the place we've never seen,
The road rolls on forever.
By: Rona Oakpaw MP
20. Unamed ( there a contest going on right now to name it)
And it works like dominoes, you do one thing,
and all of a sudden alot of things happen because of it.
By Quickpaw
Why me? cried the child,
and the blind man responded,
because you are young,
in experienced in the art of war,
you will learn how to accomplish your goals in time,
Until then, train harder.
By Quickpaw
22. A warrior's poem:
So how is it going to begin and end?
A lone warrior, who knows naught the answer,
to these questions, moves ever onward to find the truth.
And in this movement does he find the answer?
By Quickpaw
23. The river flows,
As I do not know where,
But our brave feet will,
Take the path that is the shortest,
Many times we will come,
and unlike the river, we know where.
By Glacia