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Author Topic: New Eden Creative Writing Contest Entry: Where does that breeze go?  (Read 133 times)

Kador Ouryon

  • History's Greatest Meatshield
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                                        Where does that breeze go
                                         that  through the gilt-tasseled rushes passes by
                                         and  parts the veil of a beauteous willow?
                                         Both must feel the blush of dawn through ringlet tresses
                                                                                        on flecked and cloudy cheeks.

                                        Does it leave behind a conspiratorial whisper
                                         that is carried through a space aloud
                                         like ours that echoed in a quaint and quiet space
                                         to cause a disturbance in Anoyia’s celestial chalice?
                                         Sweeps through a Dire place and down into the sea.

                                        It does,
                                                   I think -

                                        It is plucked from the restless, hard to reach
                                         branch-
                                         where you and I have sat
                                         and spoken to the stars.

                                        Is it in the trembling touch?
                                        where our use of force becomes
                                        answers
                                        to questions ailing minds too tense and taut
                                        to recognise a familiar face outside our little world.

                                       Is it where we whisper amid the rushes
                                        sweet words like Zakara upon his final bed
                                        of how aeons pass and we remain bound
                                        in a shared immortal destiny
                                        those fateful words from Junip of Aerui.

                                       It is,
                                             I think -

                                       It is plucked from the restless, hard to reach
                                        branch-
                                        where you and I have sat
                                        and spoken to the stars.

                                      And now -

                                      Death seeks not where we stand, to pluck
                                       at us in our branch
                                       where you and I have sat
                                       and spoken to the stars
                                       for we are beyond Oblivion."


God above only knows why I am actually posting this poem for consideration in the NECWC as I am no poet, or at least I profess not a particularly good one, with all those mechanical sentimentalizes of a mechanical engineer and former HAV operator. However despite those many long hours studying drive systems, electrolaser focusing crystals, and cyclotronic plasma regulators I still found time to become fascinated with old Amarrad poems and epics (some of my electives at the Royal Amarr Institute in Marthia were poetics and linguistics analysis).

The above was translate from the original Amarrad and so unfortunately some of the poetic verse forms have not survives the translation, that said it will be provided below in due time for those who wish to read it as it was meant to be. Thank you for talking your time and reading these fanciful verses.

- Regards VCP Cadet Kador Ouryon

« Last Edit: 01 Aug 2017, 00:21 by Kador Ouryon »
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"We ripped up the ending and the rules...and cast aside destiny...leaving nothing for us but an endless cycle of death and rebirth. Which is all well and good, except... Well, what if I've made the wrong choice? I have faith that it wasn't.....but how am I supposed to know? I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me tell you my story.Let me tell you everything."
- [name redacted] Truest Adamance

Ayallah

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The poem flows in and out with tension and release to the graceful ending as well as the breeze of its namesake.
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Stutzer

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A well-earned blue ribbon. Very satisfying read.
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Korsavius

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  • "Dead man walking."

I'm not much of a poetic critic but I really enjoyed reading this piece. It has a very alluring flow to it, with good word selections. Even if I had no idea what was actually going on, I couldn't help but feel introspective and contemplative as I read it.
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