Bad poetry

[The Ari-tificer]

This is a thread for posting poetry that is either written for the purpose of being bad or that just happens to be bad.
Rules are as follows:

You must write the poetry yourself.
The poetry must fit the requirements of the type of poem (i.e. no writing 'pizza' and calling it a haiku).
The worst poem entitles the author to bragging rights.
Disregard this rule.

[AuthorGirl]

The Awfullest Lyric Poem of them All
(Deliberately mocking some cruddy existential stuff I wrote a while ago.)

I was a scale
With no circle of fifths
I was a minor scale
No minor third to count up
I was a melody
Without pitch variance, a rhythm
Without a beat
And I was a chord
With no intervals inside of it.

[Knaight]

I have a haiku I had to write in highschool in a very short time period under some very specific constraints:

Og want Mog mammoth/
Og not like Mog have mammoth/
Mammoth tasty; want

[2D8HP]

Purple Eisenhower mimeographs going through the stucco of my mind

Mustard gas, atomic blasts, squares are too sublime

*snaps fingers*


"Espresso"


Oh wait D&D...


"Purple Elminster scrolls going through the wattle and daub of my mind"


*snaps fingers*


"Mead"



Also, I hate sports.

[Graypairofsocks]

This is a thread for posting poetry that is either written for the purpose of being bad or that just happens to be bad.
Rules are as follows:

You must write the poetry yourself.
The poetry must fit the requirements of the type of poem (i.e. no writing 'pizza' and calling it a haiku).
The worst poem entitles the author to bragging rights.
Disregard this rule.


haiku fart donkey
cutlery disorder eat
of course verbs is mars

[The Ari-tificer]

haiku fart donkey
cutlery disorder eat
of course verbs is mars
That's a great haiku.

[Aedilred]

I can't claim credit for this, but it's one of the worst poems I've seen outside the work of William McGonagall, so I'll share it.

England's Rose
The day we lost our Nation's Rose,
Tears we cried like rivers flowed,
The earth stood still
As we laid her to rest,
A day you & I
Will never forget,
The people's princess
Who came to see,
The love from a country
We'd hope she'd lead,
England's beauty
Captured in one sweet soul,
Carried the torch
God rest her soul,
With the gift she had
She'd light up the way,
With a smile to show us a brighter day,
Hearts still full
Of the love she gave,
20 years since she laid in her grave,
There will never be another like you,
Now a shining star in the midnight sky
I will always remember you,
Princess Diana,
As our sweet nation's rose
- Lewis Hamilton

[Asmodean_]

Halfway through learning poems for GCSE, we were tasked with writing one with the techniques we'd learned.

I decided to go 𝔪𝔢𝔱𝔞



It seems these days
that all you need
is a sheet of prose
and a liberal sprinkling of line breaks

It seems these days
that all they want
is something to make them think
(following the rules is optional)

Why not seek the heady days of yore,
When every poem followed writing laws?
Why have we abandoned our tradition
in favour of something that reads like regular prose with nothing else to it?

"The poet's use of clear enjambment
symbolises his despair at
losing his control over his thoughts..."

Alternatively his enjambment
symbolises his defiance
over rigid rules he had to
follow, and control over his words..."

Thirty marks in twelve and twelve and six,
digging through the **** to try and find something that sticks,
drawing lines where none were meant to be,
"Needs more terminology - 18."

What do I draw from the lack of their rhythms?
What do I write about rhyme schemes that vanish?
What do I do when the poet decides "**** it" and ignores the fact that they're writing a "poem" and just goes off on a tangent during which the only question to ask is not are they but which drugs are they on and how many?

in short:
What do I do with a fake poem?

How does the poet show his frustration at the rules that he accuses other poets of ignoring? Compare with one other poem in the anthology.
[30 marks]

[Jormengand]

-snip-

That is amazing. How did the teacher respond?



As for my own terrible poems, I do have fun using the following template to compose a haiku about almost anything:

[Five syllable line]
I can't think of a haiku
That describes it well

[Vinyadan]

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Loosen my fingers
Goddam that glue

_______________


Roses are green
Violets are blue
I am Daltonic
and you smell like poo

_______________


A boring man I once met
Of bores he had a whole set
Endlessly he bore his people
Then he sew them with a needle.
I stopped and asked how he did
For his left hand was a squid
To which he answered, "How I do?
Take a seat, I'll bore you too!"

[Asmodean_]

- snip -

Didn't have the guts to actually submit it. Wrote some crap about how duty is like a mountain and handed that in instead.

got a B

[Scarlet Knight]

Hickory Dickory's Dock
Is where I punch my clock
But loading ships is hard
So I'll just fish
off ol' Dickory's Hickory dock.

[Jormengand]

Didn't have the guts to actually submit it. Wrote some crap about how duty is like a mountain and handed that in instead.

got a B

That's a pity. I'll admit that you've somewhat inspired me...

A poet pens a powerful, pitiful prose:
A flat, thin line of follow the leader
From which alliteration for some reason rose.
What effect does this have on the reader?

Vary the length of the lines and the rhyme scheme.
This tells the reader that things aren't as they seem.
The poet uses half-rhyme to help her explain
That she can't think of two words that end the same.

Break out of the scheme and go into free verse. Why? Why not?
Why use rhetorical questions?
What effect does this have on the reader?

Remember to repeat lines so you can pad it out,
Since you only have a little to write about,
Don't worry whether it rhymes, fits or scans,
What effect does this have on the reader?

[JNAProductions]

Five seven five then
Some more horse crap to write now
It's snowing on Mt. Fuji

[The Ari-tificer]

Five seven five then
Some more horse to write now
It's snowing on Mt. Fuji

Five|sev|en|five|then - 5 syllables
Some|more|horse|to|write|now - 6 syllables
It's|snowing|on|Mt.|Fuji - 6 syllables

That's not actually a haiku.
Sorry.

[JNAProductions]

Woops, meant to write horse crap, not just horse.

And "It's snowing on Mt. Fuji" is the ONLY way to end a haiku. Game Grumps reference. Sanic Bam, Episode 38 (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9y3baOVXpSE). Warning, language content in the link.

[Jethro_Thrull]

A staccato beat intrudes upon my mind
the tap-tap-tapping of a million ants tap dancing
to Imagine Dragons "Radioactive"

My thoughts are a frenzy of annoyance and misanthropy
why didn't these ants deliver coffee
'tis the season for Pumpkin Spice Lattes after all

[tyckspoon]

Giant I T P
My offense has no defense
Also, I hate sports.

[Knaight]

Hickory Dickory's Dock
Is where I punch my clock
But loading ships is hard
So I'll just fish
off ol' Dickory's Hickory dock.

Using the same word twice in a rhyme scheme is always a good technique for making garbage. There's also some fun to be had with really questionable slant rhymes and rhyme orders.

A lighthouse alone shines bright in the night/
Built mighty and strong, a little bit wrong/
By Hick'ry and ****'ry, both dead in the head/
Lying atop in a bed made of lead/
Light didn't last long; they slept for a song/
So they then had to fistfight a shipwright.

[Vinyadan]

Whatever you want
Caress on my calluses
Now that's Halloween


Irrelevant pigs
On cumulonimbus
Fiercest sunset


Naked Spartan men
Dance hard at Thermopylae
American public.

[Vinyadan]

Months of unpaid rent
I'll call the cops if you don't
Leave the bungalow


The black on the shore
Isn't petroleum, it's sea coal
You can't collect it


London is calling
Can't you hear London calling
London is calling


Where were you at lunch
And would it have killed you
To answer the phone


I don't like U2
But I guess there's worse stuff
OMD party


Kim Kardashian is
Doesn't ring any bell no idea
who Kardashian is


Rope jump slight fumble
The sky turns around my body
Bamboo in my face

[Scarlet Knight]

Skin glistens,
Beads of sweat,
Muscles Straining,
Release, tighten again.
Two bodies move,
opposed, yet together.
The dance of dominance.
I love sports!

[Peelee]

Roses are red
Violets are blue
I'm bad at rhyming.
And rhythm.

[Anonymouswizard]

I'll get back to you, I'm trying to compose a poem about how bad free verse is (written in free verse, of course, because I have trouble sticking to forms). It'll have an abaa rhyme scheme and lines of as varying length as I can make them, while still retaining some form of rhythm.

If I'm going to write bad poetry I'm going to do this properly.

Until then.

Forum Thread
Wandering away
from the path set out
Will the mods notice
Will they care
The point once made
Has been lost to argument
As the people
Continue on
Never stopping
Never understanding
Talking endlessly
In circles of their own making

[Vinyadan]

Whenever I squat
I end up falling backwards
Need lots of stretching

[kedirimakmur1]

And I was a chord
With no intervals inside of it.

I like it :D

[Vinyadan]

A windshield approached
Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow
Ow ow ow ow ow

[Anonymouswizard]

A windshield approached
Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow
Ow ow ow ow ow

Inspired by Baldrick's 'The German Guns' I assume?

[Manga Shoggoth]

A slightly more serious example.

I wrote this as an experiment many years ago, while bored at work. The first three stanzas are (relatively) serious, however the next three stanzas are the same, but passed once through Google Translate, and the final three are passed through multiple times.


Garbage In; Wastes Outside

I stare at my computer.
My computer stares at me.
The single eye that never blinks.
The day passes, bit by bit.

The programs run; the disks drive.
Ephemeral documents written in stone.
All this served on a platter.
The sands run out, bit by bit.

The world turns; the clock ticks.
Work is no longer a physical thing.
The hiss of the fan competes with the silence.
My days in the bucket, bit by bit.

I look mean computers firm on.
My computer looks at firmly me.
The simple eye, which never blinks.
The transitions from day less by the less.

The program race; the unit plates.
In the stone written passing documents.
All this served on a tray.
The sand is exhausted little by the less.

The revolutions of the world; the ticking clock.
The work is not more a physical thing.
Whistling the fan competes with the silence.
My days in the bucket less by the less.

I consider to local means of the computers that I determine him.
My calculation considers the resolute premises.
The simple eye, of that flicker never.
Passages of the newspaper, bit of the bit.

The passage of the programs; the unit of the disc.
Provisory's Scripture of the original one on the rock.
Everything was used this in the high geniuses of the ventilator to moor for the relaunched layers.
The sand of the updated restorations of the bit of the world is not exausted, bitten;

Armor-piercing equipment of shield of the arsenal of the pulse of the detonation.
The work is not of one more a certain way a systematic test the one that that.
It whistles of breather competed to the peace.
My days in the position, bit of the bit.

[Vinyadan]

Inspired by Baldrick's 'The German Guns' I assume?

Baldrick, what brilliance
He discovered Futurism
Take that, Italians.

Blackadder's the name
You may imagine a snake
Instead it's a Brit.

Trogdor was a man
Or maybe a dragon man
Burninating stuff.

Noodles of the future
Noodles were in my first love
Noodles of the pasta

A candle's early light
So that the young sun may rise
Watch: it always works.

[Heliomance]

I'd post some of the stuff I wrote age 14 or so, but... I don't think the thread could take poetry that bad.

[golentan]

Poem.
A poem.

A poem by me.

[Vinyadan]

Sometimes when I scream
People stare and cross the street
Guys, take a chill pill

[2D8HP]

As my mind slips away
and my guts turn to clay
I'm consoled by
also hates sports

Burma Shave

[Vinyadan]

Many things exist
Others never came to be
Objective critique

[enderlord99]

Swamp in the heather. Summon the grapefruit cavalry.

[AuthorGirl]

I'd post some of the stuff I wrote age 14 or so, but... I don't think the thread could take poetry that bad.

No, please! I'll do the same, with some stuff from when I was eleven!

Won't do it unless you do, though :smallsmile:

[Vinyadan]

Roses are red
Candles drip wax
Man trades baby
For fifteen Big Macs

(not mine BTW)

[KillingAScarab]

System mastery is overrated
when creative failures leave you frustrated
Seventeen levels I couldn't fill
with story enough to fit the bill
I tried to plow
but that's fallow now
The character is dead
inside of my head
It plays with the ghosts
I already host
And so I await
new play-by-post bait

[Tvtyrant]

This line
Does not rhyme

I
Love
Me self referential
Poet
I

We use irony
To mean serendipity
Because ironic
Is easier then serendipitous

[Lionheart]

Here's one I submitted for a university assignment.

I.
I am.
I am writing.
I am writing a poem.

So far,
It isn't going very well.

[Vinyadan]

My eyeball sobs
For my head throbs
To forget my headache
I'll eat a cheesecake.

[AuthorGirl]

My eyeball sobs
For my head throbs
To forget my headache
I'll eat a cheesecake.

an online wisdom
staring at me from my screen,
it's unconventional

but it feels reasonable
I like cheesecake

[2D8HP]

Gandalf battles Nazi's on the Death Star

film at eleven

By Crom's rotting liver
I hated High School

[truemane]

Here's one I submitted for a university assignment.

I.
I am.
I am writing.
I am writing a poem.

So far,
It isn't going very well.

That's actually not bad. I'd change the last line to "It's not going well" to make it shorter. It's funnier if it reads quicker.

ANYWAY.

I'd love to post some of my early-teen WHAT IF THE CEILING IS JUST, LIKE, SOMEONE ELSE'S FLOOR, MAN, poetry, but alas, it's all lost to the ravages of a thieving ex. I can still remember the very first poem I ever wrote, but it's actually quite good. The next few dozen, which I can't recall, were really, really not.

And so I bring you the following:

*AHEM*

Frozen pond.
Stupid frog.

Splat.

*BOWS*

[Vinyadan]

Discerning danger roaming highways unknown
Misfiring, and pathetic slothful goons
Upgraded empowered sharpened spoons
Inflict precise passé esprit alone.

[Velaryon]

When I was in junior high or so, I read this (https://thecomicninja.wordpress.com/tag/dilbert/) Dilbert comic strip, and was inspired to expand it into a full-length poem that took up about eight or nine pages in a pocket-sized notebook. Sadly, that notebook is long lost to the ravages of time.

Then in the mid-2000s when I was a recent college grad with no idea of what career I wanted to pursue, and was still working my crummy seasonal job at the Follett warehouse, we had an evening where we went on "exception time" (meaning the sorting machine broke down so we stopped working and sat there waiting for it to be fixed). I was incredibly bored and began writing a bunch of haiku which I later posted on my MySpace page. Unfortunately, I didn't think to copy them somewhere before I deleted said MySpace page, so they're gone now.

The most memorable of them went something like this:

Giant metal fan
Spinning slowly up above
But I am still hot

[KillingAScarab]

Then in the mid-2000s when I was a recent college grad with no idea of what career I wanted to pursue, and was still working my crummy seasonal job at the Follett warehouse, we had an evening where we went on "exception time" (meaning the sorting machine broke down so we stopped working and sat there waiting for it to be fixed). I was incredibly bored and began writing a bunch of haiku which I later posted on my MySpace page. Unfortunately, I didn't think to copy them somewhere before I deleted said MySpace page, so they're gone now.

The most memorable of them went something like this:

Giant metal fan
Spinning slowly up above
But I am still hote Follett dot com
which I depended upon
so someone else would hunt down
the books I used in another town

those boxes are nice
I still have them
thank you

[Some Android]

Fart Fart Fart Fart Fart
Fart Fart Fart Fart Fart Fart Fart
Fart Fart Fart Fart Fart

It's a haiku.

[Wookieetank]

Haikus are great fun
Something goes on this line here
Please use Burma-Shave

[Peelee]

Haikus are great fun
Something goes on this line here
Please use Burma Shave

I hate shaving enough as it is, I'm not gonna go to Burma to do it.

[Wookieetank]

I hate shaving enough as it is, I'm not gonna go to Burma to do it.

Burma-Shave (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Burma-Shave) used to (1920s-1960s) have road-sign poems on multiple signs in a row, each sign being a line in the poem, and ended each poem with Burma-Shave. Once I found out about this, I throw it into the end of my poems anytime I can as a lark :smallbiggrin:

[Vinyadan]

Embarrass rises seeing English rhymes
observe iambic rhythm, forgetting how
Germanic accents first-syllabic plough:
Inversion be applied profuse, sublime.

[Jay R]

My favorite bad doggerel that I wrote composed* is the "Culture Medley".

A bunch of the boys were whoopin’ it up in the Malamute saloon.
The kid that handles the music box was hittin’ a jag-time tune.
Back of the bar, in a solo game, was Dangerous Dan McGrew,
While the vessel with the pestle held the brew that was true.
Beware the Jabberwock, my son, it falls on field and tree;
And there sat Captain Washington, to teach it harmony.
Old Macdonald had a farm, in Imladris it dwells.
He played knick-knack on my arm – it’s baked by little elves.
Clap your hands if you believe, wi’ the auld moon in her arms,
With Jerry Mathers as the Beaver – he’s got Lucky Charms.
One ring to rule them all, from sea to shining sea.
It’s a small world, after all, that’s made for you and me.
Timid and shy and scared am I, of things beyond my ken;
As dry leaves before a hurricane fly, the South shall rise again!
Pride goeth before a fall; the whole world loves a winner.
Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall; Ich bien ein Berliner.
No new taxes, read my lips, I do not choose to run
The face that launched a thousand ships. God bless us, every one.
Happy days are here again; can you spare a dime?
We’re looking for a few good men, and now, it’s Miller time.
Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall, in a kinder, gentler nation.
It’s a clear call and a wild call, for station identification.
Give the gift that keeps on giving, sealed with a kiss.
Better thing for better living – can your beer do this?
What’s up, Doc? Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair.
That’s no one’s business but the Turks, with tender loving care.
Gil-Galad was an elven king, who had a very shiny nose,
Thine alabaster cities gleam, and this is how it goes.
O, wherefore art thou, Romeo, in a yellow submarine?
Whose woods these are I think I know – watch out for that tree!
Do you like green eggs and ham, wrapped up in a five-pound note?
I yam what I yam, and that’s all that I am – follow the yellow brick road.
Go ahead, make my day, and with the girls be handy.
In summer, quite the other way – would you like some candy?
Be all you can; I love you, man. God shed his grace on thee.
Hakuna heigh-ho fragilistic bibbidy chim cheree!
Little Jack Horner sat in a corner, to talk of many things.
He’s strong to the finich, ‘cause he eats his spinach, and we must tell the king.
The mate was a mighty sailin’ man, with a banjo on his knee.
He took his vorpal blade in hand, and never used a big, big D.
Casey stood a-watching it, in haughty grandeur there,
That’s because he’s smarter than the average bear.
But I am a Bear of Little Brain, and long words Bother me.
Oh, frabjous day! Calloo! Callay! To be or not to be.
Let the joyous news be spread – to grandmother’s house we go.
Shoot, if you must, this old grey head, but remember the Alamo!
Who is the tall, dark stranger there, that saved a wretch like me?
They threatened his life with a railway share, for the snark was a boojum, you see.
It came upon a midnight clear, where no one’s gone before,
Frankly, my dear, I don’t think we’re in Kansas any more.
Oh, somewhere in this fabled land, the sun is shining bright,
A band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light.
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout –
Vorpal fu, no breasts, two stars. Joe Bob says “Check it out!

*It's all my own creation, but I did not write a single line of it.

[Jormengand]

My favorite bad doggerel that I wrote composed* is the "Culture Medley".

I giggled multiple times. Well done.

[Vinyadan]

http://www.sinfest.net/view.php?date=2000-06-27

[2D8HP]

I must assume that when I posted a poem

On a sporting occasion... of staggering awesomicity, folks in the Playground were too in awe to reply, and knowing of my stunning humility, they did not want to intrude.

But in case fans of truly great poetry didn't read that thread, it would be wrong to hold back from more eyes the composition:


On a sporting occasion someone of ocular persuasion
said in conversation
how I hate this all this row
what care I which way the ball will go
I plan a game much more thorough
spin and spin around I go
on one side a cup of poison
on the other side water
a blindfold so which I will not know
I care not what I will lose
I care not what I will gain
for I am sure I'll feel no more pain
existence has my disdain
let us see if I another breath
for
Also, I don't fear death!

Also, I hate sports.

[The Eye]

Should I be charging you commissions to serve as your muse?

[Peelee]

Should I be charging you commissions to serve as your muse?

Always charge. They're under no obligation to pay, of course, but can't hurt to send an invoice.

[2D8HP]

Should I be charging you commissions to serve as your muse?


O for a Muse of sight, that would ascend
The brightest heaven of invention,
A kingdom for an Eye...

No.

Absolutely not.

No way.


Yes


Say... you're a man of the world, squire.

I mean, you've been around a bit, you know, like, you've, uh...

...what's it like? Also, I hate sports, and that pizza deal was no deal.

[AuthorGirl]

On a sporting occasion someone of ocular persuasion
said in conversation
how I hate this all this row
what care I which way the ball will go
I plan a game much more thorough
spin and spin around I go
on one side a cup of poison
on the other side water
a blindfold so which I will not know
I care not what I will lose
I care not what I will gain
for I am sure I'll feel no more pain
existence has my disdain
let us see if I another breath
for
Also, I don't fear death!

Also, I hate sports.



Its awesomicity is stunning and everyone can see the easter egg now :smalltongue:

[2WheelsGood]

Immortalising a near total party wipeout in Eberron:


TPW

Brave and bold,
Hearts so true,
But they bit off more,
Than they could chew.

Rotting corpses
cased in glass,
Wandered up
And kicked their (butt).

Red is dead,
The monk is sunk.
And so's the sarge
Zaine did a bunk.

No matter how hard,
The sell-sword trains
He'd longer live,
If he'd use his brains

And maybe now,
'fore we're in too deep,
We'll learn to look,
Before we leap

[2WheelsGood]

Same campaign our heroes try to capture a mad plant-scientist-wizards pet giant gorilla.

A jolly jape
To catch the ape,
We offer meat,
A tasty treat.

Straight down the tree,
On top of me.
I feel a berk,
Plan didn't work.

Though I'm cute
And play the lute,
It wallops me
Into a tree.

Botanist's flunky
Naughty monkey!
Big gorilla,
Fight a thriller.

The priest,
Hit by beast.
The witch,
Has a glitch.


Tlanthus (lunch)
Lands a punch,
Knocked it cold
And o'er it rolled

[2WheelsGood]

Eberron again- the party attend a masquerade ball in an attempt to apprehend a sword-stealing vampire.

Talanthus, he'll chat up the barman,
The priest will just sit by the wall,
He's socially pants and he can't flipping dance,
Oh goody! It's time for the brawl.

Swords are drawn out on the dance floor,
Let's blow up a piece of the crowd,
It's cast quite a pall on the party,
The vampire left under a cloud.

Somebody put all the lights out,
So now we're all groping, quite blind,
But we're having a lark, scrapping here in the dark,
And you never know what you might find.

Somebody threw a big fireball,
I'm glad that I dived and I ducked,
Things did get quite dire when my clothing caught fire,
But the wizard I'd grabbed, well she's (not feeling very well).

I know we have messed up your party,
The worst party ever by far,
I don't want a feud, but you're just being rude,
So stuff you - we're offski. HAHA!

[2WheelsGood]

Eberron again. Preparing for season 2 and the halfling bard warms up for more bad poetry with an appeal to the referee for more treasure-

I'm gonna play Birdie again,
I know it's a bit of a strain,
But it isn't too hard,
As a three foot tall bard,
And adveturin's fun (in the main)

The halfling with pipe and a lute,
And a bow and some arrows to shoot,
And a half-decent blade -
We might even get paid,
But we'll more likely all get the boot.

The reward money's nearly all spent,
The landlord is after the rent,
And I'm not going home where the dinosaurs roam,
And live in a stinky old tent!

Will Talanthus have grown back his 'tache?
Is the Lightspeaker still high on (naughty substances)?
Will Alvorcer do spells?
(She us'ly just yells)
And will J PLEASE just give us some cash?

[2WheelsGood]

Off to the jungles of Eberron we went


It’s the bungle in the jungle
Expedition up (Poo) Creek,
Where the lizards slit your gizzards
And the future’s lookin’ bleak.

Where the mossies bite your leg off
And the leeches drink you dry
And the lizardmen won’t smeg off
And the heat could make you cry.

Where there dangle vines that strangle
In the dripping, shadowed green
Where the monkeys hoot and holler
And there’s snakes to make you scream.

It’s the bungle in the jungle
Where fierce monster-thingys roam,
Where a drag’n keeps on nagg’n.
Why can’t we just go home?

[2WheelsGood]

Enthusiastic vigilante action on a street in pirateport follows the offer of a reward made by the party paladin


"Stop that man!"
Talanthus roared,
"An' if you do there's a big reward!"
So Henry grabbed some passing Jack,
Who grabbed Old Bob - who grabbed him back,
And Mikey took ahold of Larry,
And Bernie rugby-tackled Harry,
Mary grabbed a bloke called Wally,
And he put both his hands on Molly.
Tom got gripped by a wiry elf,
Eric took hold of himself!
So in a very brief short while,
The whole damn street is one big pile
Of heaving bodies, one big scrum -
All pulling hair and biting bum.
Wrestle, grapple, cling and clutch
Punch in face and kick in crutch,
And all the while OUR fleeing scunner
Carries on with rapid runner.

[2WheelsGood]

A visit to a stately home is spoiled by the presence of naughty-type pirates:

Believe me or not
(I'm a terrible liar)
But there's pirates on your lawn
And they've set your house on fire.

They've broken half the windows
And kicked in the front door
They trampled in the flowerbeds
Made muddy footprints on the floor.

They've run off with the silver
stolen things you can't afford,
They've murdered half the servants
With fire...and the sword.

They deflowered all the parlourmaids,
Stabbed the butler in the chest,
And sodomised the stable boy,
The cook and all your guests.

They're an awful flipping nuisance,
A downright ruddy pest
But we're pest exterminators -
Just stand back and be impressed.

[2WheelsGood]

Pathfinder this time and an early encounter in the ruins with a gigantic bat led to my being dropped from a great height.

We shall call this temple Shirley
'Tis the temple of the bat.
It's raining player characters,
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaah! SPLAT!
This city's flippin’ awful
But the monkeys are a hoot
And all we've found is death
Not a flippin' chance of loot.
The ghosts are gettin' antsy
And the campers are all camp
And now it's bleedin' raining
And my bedroll's gettin' damp.
Exploring ruddy' ruins is gettin' really hard...
But my next player character is gonna be a .....GNOME!

[2WheelsGood]

Middle Earth this time. One of the party proves to a poor diplomat:

The tale of Shadow Foot-in-mouth,
Who opens up her North and South
And out there comes a torrent spewed
Of prideful boast and comment rude.

She says to all the great and good
That live around the Great Greenwood
Those things she says are on her mind
But does so in ways less than kind

And with her manners sorely lacking
She (and we!) are soon sent packing
Leather-shod in hobnail boot,
She opens mouth, and inserts foot.

[2WheelsGood]

Crossing the great River Anduin we had a slight man overboard incident with our non-swimmer Barding.

On Anduin river's sunlit shimmer
Ranulf finds he's not a swimmer
Despite his seeming sudden wish
To try the life of a goldfish.

A flash and splash of spume and spray
The Barding's swiftly borne away,
And followed fast by Ulfar's daughter
He learns he shouldn't play in water.

[2WheelsGood]

Spear and blade rang loud in strife,
And blood dripped thick from axe and knife
And hope seemed gone,
An end to life.

The bloody night went on and on,
Flame and death! No hope of dawn,
When from the wood
Sounds Mogdred's horn.

To me! O Elves and Men, to me!
Hope dawns afresh!
The goblins flee!
And ties of kin bring victory

(after the battle of Rhosgobel 2948)

[2WheelsGood]

Middle Earth again, the Eye Of Sauron makes an unwelcome appearance in the midst of battle and two PCs fight each other.

Around them on the parapet the dying and the dead.
The foemen ringed the heroes in, the levy slain, or fled.
Blades flashed in the firelight,
Black arrows filled the air,
With weary arms they hacked and stabbed
Oh! the courage of despair.

And in the spray of guts and blood
From tower top, above the flood
The Celduin stained like wine with gore
Swept past amid the battle's roar.
The red-mist battle-madness
Descended on the two.
Berserk with pain and grief they fought.
They slew again and slew.

On and on and on they fought,
Of wounds and pain they noticed nought.
On severed limbs and blood they slide
And as the hope within them died
The slaying-lust consumed them both
And giving in to stark red wrath
And blind with blood they each forgot
And brother knew his brother not.

Alas the sight that daylight brings
To the threefold host and all three kings.
For when the lark begins to wake,
The madness lifts and hearts will break.
Among the heaps of corpses there
Lie friendship, honour, trust and care.
Slain by one I dare not name,
Oh where to hide my face in shame?

[2WheelsGood]

On the Withered Heath we all keep passing our corruption tests:

Among the rock and ice and snow
Despite the shadow, gaily go
And in the face of evil….sing
For we will fear no evil thing.

Amid the mountain peak and slope,
Burns bright the fellowships’ stubborn hope.
And tho the shadow deepens here
Our hearts and minds and purpose clear.

[2WheelsGood]

The dice turned against our guide on our journey through Mirkwood that year and having left her in Tyrants Hill the Elf takes the remainder of the group back to Rhosgobel:

The summer leaves are swishing
As we go to see our Lysa
And as Aerinddis is missing
The journey is much nicer.

We sing and dance within the wood
For our guide has gone away
And the summer sun shines as it should
The journey's bright and gay.

Her trip to Tyrants Hill is folly
I fear she'll pay a mighty cost
But our journey home is much more jolly
And we are not getting lost!

[2WheelsGood]

My elf gets himself in a state with what to do: meddle in other folks business or let them make their own mistakes:

The woodland clans are called to gather
And Laurefin is in a lather.
Would going do more harm than good?
What right has he to counsel
The good men of the wood?

The open road beckons…

I fear the rise of Tyrant’s Hill,
Yet speak against and surely will
I offend. But stay? Or go?
Where lies the right?
I do not know.

The far horizon calls…


The woodland folk are dear to me,
I lack the wisdom though to see
Where duty lies. So go? Or stay?
Speak?
Or silent stay away?

The mountain stream sparkles in the moonlight…

Am I man? No I’m an elf
Do I seek to serve myself
In this? Or by my absence serve
Them best?
Or do I simply lack the nerve?

The campfire sparks and smoke rise into the night…

I find myself assailed by doubt
Though in their council I hold no clout
Should I be there? I cannot tell
Act? Or not?
For woe? or well?

The wandering wind sings of the things it has seen…

[2WheelsGood]

Spring 2960. The last ride of the fellowship?

Ride out, one last time,
Ride out with me this day.
Take up the sword and shield once more,
And follow valour' sway.

Love's light outshines the campfire light,
A bed is warmer than the trail,
A lover's skin is warm and smooth,
Softer far than bright chain mail.

We've journeyed far along the years,
The road has led us weary miles,
The traveller yearns for hearth and home,
A child's laugh and mother's smiles.

But one last season come with me,
The way of glory calls once more,
The embers heat is comfort yet,
Add fuel and we might flame once more.

[AuthorGirl]

I'm . . . I'm in awe.

[2WheelsGood]

One character goes off on her own into the wight-haunted Mirkwood:

Kith's lost in the woods,
And we're having a lark,
Tryin' to find her,
Out here in the dark.

She is a total wally,
'Tis an act of total folly,
She must be off her trolley,
To go wand'ring in this park.

[2WheelsGood]

The difference between elven and dwarven poetry is patience. (Get to the point!)

Elven:

A bitter wind blew in the forested hills,
Where the Elvenking’s army suffered its ills.
With the hunger and fear,
with the wounds and the pain,
For the battle was lost,
They had fought all in vain.

Bright was the day....blah blah blah....

Dwarven:

We went out and had a fight,
(We won! We won!)
We’re all brilliant, you’re all sh(ockingly bad)
(Beat you any day!)

[2WheelsGood]

More likely dead

“Go off on a quest”
My old Master said
And you’ll come back rich!
(Or more likely dead)

Slay evil armies,
Let rivers run red,
And come back a hero,
(Or more likely dead)

It’ll all be all right,
And he nodded his head,
You’ll be coming back famous!
(Or more likely dead)

The dungeons of doom,
The chasm of dread,
You’ll come back a man.
(Or more likely dead)

[2WheelsGood]

The chant of the shattered lands

(The party set off through the shattered hills, failed a cook roll, encountered giant scorpions in the night with multiple botched rolls, got lost, set off an epic trap and found a mystic gateway that gave the first guy through a strength boost.
Tired out we got blown out of out tent by a storm, got no sleep again and then got attacked by formian archers who were driven off by counter battery fire from our own ranger.)

Moors, bores
A pox on rocks
Cramp in camp,
Food no good,
Night fight,
Mincer pincer,
Stings and things,
Bite, bite
****e fight,
****er fighter,
Map chap
Crap chap,
Slap chap,
Zap!
Gate great,
Advance enhance,
Rest? Stressed.
Dreary, weary
Tent, bent
Need rest, no pest,
Sentry at entry
Hollers callers,
Harrowing arrowing,
Ants are pants,
Watcher, gotcha
Dawn, yawn!
Rest of quest...

[2WheelsGood]

Kaitilla Littlebird, halfling bard goes shopping with the sorceress Alvorcer:

Shop til you drop!
We will never never stop!
Don’t be funny,
Spend your money,
Do you like this sparkly top?
Getting dressed in our best,
Gonna shop like we’re possessed,
Turning heads
In our threads
Everyone will be impressed.

[2WheelsGood]

We spent most of a week holed up in a dungeon waiting for a bad case of quasit poisoning to wear off.
We have a magical everlasting candle, rations enough and bog all else to do but write bad poetry:

Bloody sick of candlelit suppers

Here’s me, lookin’ pretty
In a great sunken city,
With three handsome men
But we’re all feeling (grotty)

With nothin’ to look on
And naff all to cook on,
Not even a book on,
JUST STARE AT THE WALL

It’s cold and it’s damp
By the light of this lamp,
I can see in the gloom
This is one crappy camp.

With six days to pass
This is one bleedin’ farce
Sitting hear on my arse,
JUST STARE AT THE WALL

There’s nothin’ needs doing
And trouble is brewin’
Just four bored ‘venturers
Sitting here stewing,

The sorcerer snores,
The fighters are bores
With talk of dull wars
JUST STARE AT THE WALL.

[2WheelsGood]

Piper the dwarven battle bard got his butt kicked on a staircase and got run over by savage humanoids which were assaulting the castle :

Unconsciousness

Snore on the floor,
The guided tour is a bore
Das ist gut, underfoot
Tasting hobgoblin boot.
I’ve just sampled being trampled
In a rut
They kicked my butt
Have a rest, it’s the best!

[2WheelsGood]

When fightin' dragons O dungeon-divers,
The trick is - not to leave survivors.
For tho' killin' one may seem a drudge,
Their mates will tend to bear a grudge.
Dragons live to be VERY old
And revenge is a dish that's best served cold.

So it was NOT ME - it was them others
What killed your dragon sisters/brothers,
What used your hoard for buying booze,
And had their hides for Gucci shoes
(And matching handbag thingys too!)
But IT WASN'T ME - I tell you true.

There's lots of short-arsed ugly bards
(I’m leaving this line out because it had a horrible word in it)
Kalashtar healers? - ten a penny,
Drag'n sorc'ror tarts? -There's many
But it WAS NOT ME, it wasn't us,
You've missed the boat AND missed the bus!

You like my earrings? - Dragon's teeth,
And matching necklace worn beneath!
Where from?............A little shop in town
Which one? Er....well it just closed down.
Oh pleeeeeeease dont burn me all to death
With scalding, acid-laden breath.
Or mince me with your razored claw,
IT WASN'T ME ('cos no-one saw!) ;)

[House Greyjoy]

There once was a shoe
This isn't a limerick
No, it's a haiku.

[House Greyjoy]

Wade Wilson’s Super Awesome Deadpool Theme Song
(rapped to the tune of “Bust a Move”)

This here’s a jam ‘bout chimichangas
And that mutant that I met with the big bazongas
Tried but it seems we couldn’t get along-a
Come on shake your body baby do that conga
Got the big C but it didn’t get me
Went to Canada which also starts with C
Coincidence yes, three C’s, no less
Healing factor, but it left my face a mess.
Department K is where I stayed
Protein shakes, no lemonade
Music shut off, tried to break my spirit
But I’ve got a song in my heart, so I hear it
Okey-dokey, artichokey,
Guess who claims to be my dad? Well it’s Loki
Beat your ass like a government mule
So come on, ya big jerk, try to bust a ‘Pool!

I’m on a mission, no I’m fishin’!
Helpin’ beavers build a river partition
Sent to fight Cable by a man named Toliver,
Future man’s a bigger queen than Oliver.
Some frustration, Secret Invasion
I’m beatin’ on some Skrulls and savin’ the nation
How many Deadpools? More than four
So I got ‘em all together formed the Deadpool Corps

(Sung) Come and listen to a story ‘bout a man named Dead
A poor mountaineer, barely kept his family fed
But then one day he was taken for a fool

And what comes next? C’est moi, Le Pool!

(Sung) I love you, I honestly love you

Your best friend Clayton’s masturbatin’
To a picture of your Mom but don’t be hatin’
Cuz her blue physique means she’s Mystique
And could I could ride that shapeshifter into next week
Neat-O, Cheeto, dig my new Speed-O
Puttin’ Hansen’s “MMMbop” on repeat-o
Just in time now cuz Marvel Zombies
Dead Squirrel Girl’s hot, yeah I think she wants me.
Slant rhyme? Maybe. Don’t be a baby
I’m talking ‘bout the booty on that young lady
She thinks I’m looking good so she tries to bite
So I blow her up instead cuz that’s not right
The Merc with the Mouth from the North to the South
I’m more super than Brandon Routh
Free tacos? I’ll try not to drool,
And if you’re so inclined, try to bust a ‘Pool.

In the 616 my bag of tricks
Means swords and guns and a crucifix
Got hired by Dracula to fetch his bride
Cracker Jack, hey look! There’s a prize inside!
Just take a rest while I digress
Cuz those little fake tattoos are the best
Never mind I looked, no good at all
It’s a tiny little maze with a BB ball.
Where was I? Right, I saved Nick Fury
From Time Travelling Hitler in a surrey
With the fringe
On
Top.

[Vinyadan]

Hyperspace ramming
Remains totally legit
Fear of asteroids.

[Grek]

Quince Smut
Pale are thy blossoms, yet ripe is their hue!
Oh how I crave thee, pleasure clad only in dew,
And yet you let that fuzz hide you from view,
Guarding thy melons, you swift-browning ingenue.
But linger not on the vine overlong, lithe parvenu!
For rapacious teleutospores crave thy sweetness too.

Untitled
She rises not to Heaven that puts her foot within her hand,
Tis better to embrace another and to keep one's feet upon the land,
And it is no wisdom to exalt the self, nor to raise only one's own kind,
Better to lift first the lightest burdens and to put faces out of mind.

For the flesh is the first Liar, that tells us all that we are not kin;
And that deceives us into seeking living virtue by opening up the skin.
The Healer tends not to the Healthy, nor the Painter to the Sky,
The Victor conquers more than the Self, and the Liar must ever share that Lie:

"There is no higher calling than to order one's order into ordering its own health;
For the spoke that spins its own axle shall evermore turn upon itself."

Know no saint has ever knelt before an altar mirrored, eyes locked with only her own,
And wicked are they that make a Goddess of Goodness and then serve their Goddess alone,
That worse yet still are those fools that make "you must eat what you are" their appeal,
For they erect in themselves a glutton-grindstone out of its own cannibalistic meal.

Know that Good is not Good that does Good only to glorify its own Good Name;
And a nature is not natural that would make all of us share a nature basely Same.
That the spirit persists forever that selflessly from self to self does flit,
And she dies her final death forever she that her own generation goes to quit.

There is nothing worth serving in a Word that serves the shifting self-same Word,
Lend your aid instead to hill and stream, to every precious beetle, bat and bird.
Look forward to those that came before you and recall those voices not yet heard,
Our timeless duty to all that surrounds us is the foremost truth in all the world.

For M
Often a letter I've put to pen,
And many a missive I have typed,
Each off to greet, again and again,
The only Trojan who ever skyped.

In through the window, we witness her there,
Someone who is half a measure beyond all compare,
Poets singing 'white-armed, ox-eyed, lovely-haired'
All but a golden coffer for treasures more fair.

She dwells in her tower, untouched by this age.
A spire with invisible bars, gateless, a cage:
A prison of grim visions, of memories bleak,
Of screams inaudible, of words she can't speak.
Wherein naught but deafness is silence's wage,
A jailhouse where the keys are ink and a page.

Out through her window, she sees only rubble:
The shattered wreckage of two decades trouble.
Dangers looming large as they also are subtle,
Hurts that all manner of balms can only redouble.

Once I described her voice as it sounded to me,
"A violin song sinking into the wine-dark sea"
The extended finger pointed to the distant moon
Not knowing that the hour was the height of noon!
Drown the world in crimson, if that is what must be,
But drown her not in this well of tears, I plea!

What cruel, jealous thing has stolen her mirror?
Taken her glasses, that she can't see clearer?
Stolen her eyes, that she cannot now behold,
That all that she whispers glistens with gold.

Blood-red chisels of loss; bitter mortar of heartache,
Every hour is clay that burns in the oven of their wake:
These well-side walls, I cannot neither climb nor break.
I have no wood to build with, and you'd notice the fake,
But I have flour, sugar and a nearby friend who can bake.
I imagine if Ulysses were here, he'd approve of this cake.

I'm saying it now and I'll say it then,
I'll sing it from rooftops, again and again,
I'll swear to it in every mountain vale and glen,
I'll sing it from within an egg, or even the hen:

"Your voice is the dawn sinking under the sea:
Golden and glowing, making sugar of the salt,
And yet you deserve instead the sky to exalt.
Beyond mountains and clouds, blissful, free."

[Grek]

Also this thing that I wrote while RPing as a police officer in a crystal-spires-and-togas fantasy communist state (called Hallifax) in a MUD:

Facet One - Sacrifice

Stanza 11 12 13
broken jagged shards
scream through viscera to be
rubies in the grass

Stanza 13 16 19
rubies in the grass
bear bloody mute witness to
the defense of state

Stanza 17 18 19
proper citizens
do not await foes for
the defense of state

Stanza 11 14 17
broken jagged shards
may with harmony become
proper citizens

Facet Two - Obedience

Stanza 11 21 31
broken jagged shards
care not that they were born of
but a single flaw

Stanza 13 23 33
rubies in the grass
thoughtlessly rejected by
the unmindful swine

Stanza 19 29 39
the defense of state
is not orchestrated by
the vanishing self

Stanza 17 27 37
proper citizens
honor and emulate
the skillful servant

Facet Three - Uniformity

Stanza 31 32 33
but a single flaw
prevents from education
the unmindful swine

Stanza 33 36 39
the unmindful swine
comprehends nothing beyond
the vanishing self

Stanza 37 38 39
the skillful servant
neither regrets nor recalls
the vanishing self

Stanza 31 34 37
but a single flaw
differentiates still
the skillful servant

Facet Four - Valour

Stanza 11 41 71
broken jagged shards
reveal in glistening wake
a fountain of blood

Stanza 13 43 73
rubies in the grass
plummet carelessly from
the palette crimson

Stanza 19 49 79
the defense of state
in its conduction creates
beauteous weapons

Stanza 17 47 77
proper citizens
see courage need not be a
lonesome barricade

Facet Five - Funebreal

Stanza 25 55 85
nimbii black with grief
gladly dance the funebre
down the mountainside

Stanza 45 55 65
gleaming conscript boots
gladly dance the funebre
with grim Atropos

Stanza 54 55 56
the sprays of our blood
gladly dance the funebre
in aeonic grasp

Stanza 52 55 58
lips gurgling triumph
gladly dance the funebre
with their final gasp

Facet Six - Camaraderie

Stanza 31 61 91
but a single flaw
is one fault too far upon
our field of battle

Stanza 33 63 93
the unmindful swine
mistakes grasping carnality
with true love's caress

Stanza 39 69 99
the vanishing self
is no less bright in light of
shining Hallifax

Stanza 37 67 97
the skillful servant
etches on her heart of hearts
our unwritten story

Facet Seven - Expertise

Stanza 71 72 73
a fountain of blood
coats the silver brush upon
the palette crimson

Stanza 73 76 79
the palette crimson
is exhibition of our
beauteous weapons

Stanza 77 78 79
lonesome barricade
the gates of their hearts; ours are
beauteous weapons

Stanza 71 74 77
a fountain of blood
gilds the valiant walls of our
lonesome barricade

Facet Eight - Patriotism

Stanza 71 81 91
a fountain of blood
speckles like brazen starlight
our field of battle

Stanza 73 83 93
the palette crimson
though triumphant, compares not
with true love's caress

Stanza 79 89 99
beauteous weapons
are those reflecting clearly
shining Hallifax

Stanza 77 87 97
lonesome barricade
cast thyself down bleak before
our unwritten story

Facet Nine - Idealism

Stanza 91 92 93
our field of battle
is made worthy of struggle
with true love's caress

Stanza 93 96 99
with true love's caress
the heart stirs once more up toward
shining Hallifax

Stanza 97 98 99
our unwritten story
must tell the wondrous tale of
shining Hallifax

Stanza 91 94 97
our field of battle
drips red with the ink that pens
our unwritten story

[Delicious Taffy]

I can't get a job.
I haven't got any skills.
What am I good for?

[2WheelsGood]

A run of bad luck (and stupidity) in Mutant Year Zero led to me reaching for the third new character sheet in 5 weeks...

My brain has got a sunroof,
There’s a big hole in my head,
And I need another character sheet,
‘Cos this one’s firkin dead!

My skull’s been ventilated,
By a nine mil parabellum,
I’m bloody dead...again,
With an op’n-air cerebellum.

[Tvtyrant]

Simpering I zimpering
Throught long anticipated drought
So the promised wet seaso

[Kyrell1978]

My joints pop and grind

The woes of transformation

A werewolf I become.

[vladimir520]

I made an omelet,
Threw it in the toilet,
Then read a book.
I'm a bad cook.

My any attempt at poetry can be considered bad, so..
lol

[Zergh]

Your hair is like a dresser.
Mind obscuring true thought.
You are no longer hidious.
Sun sinked down below.


I think it is bad enough so no need for more.

[2WheelsGood]

A The One Ring character retires

We’ve ridden the wind with the Eagles
We’ve seen things you wouldn’t believe
We’ve stood on the shoulders of Erebor
And wandered the tunnels beneath

We’ve witnessed the anger of dragons
The hate of a Ringwraith unmasked
The courage of heroes, the light of the Noldor
And done what an Istari asked

You’ve journeyed to places of Shadow
You’ve treated with princes and kings
We’ve slain wicked spiders, encountered black riders
And thwarted the Lord of the Rings

We’ve stood side by side on the rampart
And gazed on the en’my beneath
We’ve gone toe to toe with a mighty troll foe
And won us the champion’s wreath

We’ve crossed and re-crossed the great Greenwood
We’ve scaled the grey mountain heights
Where arrow-storms rattle you’ve led men in battle
‘gainst Werewolves and orcs, and Wood Wights

You’ve driven off Wiglund the Cruel
Crossed swords with the dread Gibbet King
You’ve been to the gates of Imladris
And brought Oonah the Queen to her king.

You’ve carried a pack for the weary
You’ve sung songs of cheer by the fire
With kindness and smiles you’ve shortened the miles
We’ve trodden from here to the Shire.


You’ve dealt with all men with great honour.
And grieved for the fallen and lost.
You’ve exposed the lies of the wicked ones spies
And done right no matter the cost.


But water and wind and the weather
In time wear away even stone
Hearth and hall call to the wandering soul
And the path at long last turns for home.

No more the trail and the campfire
No bedroll out under the stars
No frost bitten toes or blister shod woes,
No soaked to the skin in rain showers

Lay down the wearisome burden,
Use all the things we have learned
Go home to your life and your children and wife
For yours is the rest that is earned

[Fyraltari]

A The One Ring character retires

We’ve ridden the wind with the Eagles
We’ve seen things you wouldn’t believe
We’ve stood on the shoulders of Erebor
And wandered the tunnels beneath

We’ve witnessed the anger of dragons
The hate of a Ringwraith unmasked
The courage of heroes, the light of the Noldor
And done what an Istari asked

You’ve journeyed to places of Shadow
You’ve treated with princes and kings
We’ve slain wicked spiders, encountered black riders
And thwarted the Lord of the Rings

We’ve stood side by side on the rampart
And gazed on the en’my beneath
We’ve gone toe to toe with a mighty troll foe
And won us the champion’s wreath

We’ve crossed and re-crossed the great Greenwood
We’ve scaled the grey mountain heights
Where arrow-storms rattle you’ve led men in battle
‘gainst Werewolves and orcs, and Wood Wights

You’ve driven off Wiglund the Cruel
Crossed swords with the dread Gibbet King
You’ve been to the gates of Imladris
And brought Oonah the Queen to her king.

You’ve carried a pack for the weary
You’ve sung songs of cheer by the fire
With kindness and smiles you’ve shortened the miles
We’ve trodden from here to the Shire.


You’ve dealt with all men with great honour.
And grieved for the fallen and lost.
You’ve exposed the lies of the wicked ones spies
And done right no matter the cost.


But water and wind and the weather
In time wear away even stone
Hearth and hall call to the wandering soul
And the path at long last turns for home.

No more the trail and the campfire
No bedroll out under the stars
No frost bitten toes or blister shod woes,
No soaked to the skin in rain showers

Lay down the wearisome burden,
Use all the things we have learned
Go home to your life and your children and wife
For yours is the rest that is earned

I've recently discovered that game and I love it. Looks like you had a lot of fun. :smile:

What kind of character was it?

[jdizzlean]

The Mod Life Crisis:

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this thread is blocked
wait, huh, what?