Another creative game

Quote:

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Originally Posted by adilyoussef

"Poetry", oh how I love this word. But "poetry" is not just a word. It's beauty of art. With our hands we can write, with our hands we can draw; oh yes, drawing. Drawing pictures or drawing hands maybe. Exquisite, lovely, and fine hands were once drawn by a sister; yes by a sister drawing hands of her sister. She put all the beauty of her art in her drawings. She expressed beauty of life, of sorrow, of missing a dear fellow, a dear friend or a dear sister. Oh yes, the drawing is but a memory of a lost. The lost that makes a heart so hollow, that the only refuge is creation. We are not Gods, but we are artits. By her art, the sister created her image of the beauty of Kaltrina. Kaltrina, oh dearest Kaltrina, who was found dead in her bedroom. She was contemplating a picture and killed by the fascination that it made over her. Chocked by the beauty of the creation, her heart stopped palpitating and fell dead a drop of cry on her cheek.

Beauty once I sought, but in your heart
Never occured to find it there in my mind
Memory now I have, although through drawing hands
Of your exquisit fingers playing a guitar
Sounding in my ears through the wind I hear
Kaltrina oh dearest Kaltrina how I miss you
Even you still exist through your sister's drawing's though

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:lol: :lol: :lol:

THat was very sweet... :D

A quick PS. Virgil, go back and read Rachel's Sonnet. I added you.

Pen

For Adil

And I looked, and I beheld an angel,
And upon its countenance was that that made me exceedingly afraid:
Yet but a word put me at peace.
"I have come, not for you, but for Adil Youssef."
"But he is one of my dear friends. How can I let you take him from me?"
The light in the Angelic Messenger's eyes glowed.
"Think ye this is the last time ye shall meet?"
Adil came unto me then, and for a moment our fingers touched.
"I have nothing to leave you, Pen, except my poetry.
I know that you will use it well. Until we shall meet once more..."
The two faded into brilliant light.
And I awoke, and behold, it was a dream...
For Adil still lives somewhere out there.
And as for me:
I believe...


In pace requiescat!

Pendragon

Thumbs up Pen. Great

And as for me:
I believe that the light I'd never see
Of those beautiful days when stroling by
The countryside, and with the angel I flee
Separated from friends by a cry
I look down to earth where all are exept me
Whose body lies and soul flies in the sky.

This for Pen

...and he folowed He who walked upon the waters but startled was he as he slipped beneath the crystalline surface.

Danny1957 got up too quickly when the alarm clock went off. He thought, "That's funny, I never stir when that old noisemaker rattles for several hours straight!" Then he looked down at the body that hadn't followed him to a standing position! "Now I understand!", he declared to himself as well as to the Angel that now came into sight.
"Well", said his celestial warden, "looks like you have the day off, my good man. You won't be needing your coat, nor shoes, nor a wallet - we'll come back for the body later!"

eesh
Mililalil(saying that name makes me feel like I have a speech impediment) was found dead at his computer late last night. He had been writing an answer on the religious thread and it was so long and complex he simply self ignited and except for two fingers left on the keyboard all that was left were still smouldering ashes.
Investigation into the matter will continue.

To write, how I would like to; to describe, how I would love to; to tell, so I can inform you; to speack, I'm impotant to do so. Why has been the question; why was the question; why is always the question that many would like to find an answer to. Why I can't do so is still a "why" without a reason; why I live far appart from those I love is still unanswered; and why Rachel has left us is still a mistery not solved.

Here is astory dear friend of a woman. A woman? And how can be there a story without a woman in it? Yes, there always be a woman in a story to call it a story. Are not they history in themselves? I believe they are. Don't you agree? As you wish, each has his or her opinion and we are not here to argue. We are here to ... ah the story!

It began in the past, and ended in the past. It starts with pain and ends with pain. It was a long time ago when a young man came across a beautiful lady. Beautiful! Oh yes, very. Her beauty can't be compared to any beauty for each has its beauty. Her beauty can only be seen by those who ever met her soul, who ever talked to her and who ever has been charmed and healed by the power that God bestowed on her, the power to heal and strenthen weak helpless souls of those like the man I was talking about. He was very weak indeed. He was bailing for help, for mercy, for someone to take him far from his suffering, and trusted that there would be no such a person. In short, he didn't believe in miracales. Do you? If not, then you are like this man. He believed that there was no place safe for him in this world except a grave where he would lie forever. Helpless, he was all but alive. Then, as I told you, he met this beautiful lady that had that angelic power of healing. She told him that she would heal him and in her heart welcome him to live forever in peace and joy. She told him that she would end his suffering and make of him a happy man forever. He didn't trust a word of her and laughed at her as would anyone who does not believe in miracales. But in a moment he was transformed to a tiny man and, though he could not believe his eyes, saw a light coming out of the chest of that angelic woman. It was a door opened to welcome him in that paradise where he found many people like him merry and leading a happy life. It was a paradise, it was beyound what he could imagine. How I'd love to describe it to you but I've not been there yet, so I have no idea how it looks like.
The hapiest of men he was, the sad of women she was. I know that you would ask me how such a woman is sad? It's so because even she could heal, all people's burden she carry. All those she saved and took off their misery, it was upon her was reflected and bear it in silence. Where is she I don't know. Why is she not with us is a "why" question that, as I told you before, I could not afford an answer to. Poor Rachel now gone, all those she saved are roming aimlessly in her heart for it was she who gided them and loved them and took great care of them.

My heart can't cry for it bleeds
My eyes can't see for I'm blind
My hands can't write for they shake
At your sight and I freak
Dear angel oh angel of mine
Though gone in my heart you draw a line
"On thee I bestow peace and grace
Till my Lord call thee to your place"

May her memory be always carried in our hearts.

Hear, hear!!


Adil: found split in half at the bottom of a melting pit in the Naboo palace. Go figure.

"R.O.B.I.N. - and just that!" spat the old detective, Henry Wherringer.

"You don't say", said his older, heavier set nephew, who had always looked down on him from behind a badge.

"Oh, but I ..."

"Do ... not finish that cliched phrase - get on with your cliched job, and let's do figure out this case!"

"I think these letters..."

"Oh they're letters all right!"

"I think these..."

"...are letters? Oh, think a little harder, and then tell me what you think!"

"I think..."

"...therefore you chatter? Oh, little uncle, you're a washout!"

"I..."

"..."

"That is to say - now shut up (I'm speaking!) -, I think that these letters stand for something:

R. is for 'Rock'..."

"And where do you get that from?"

Holding up a rock, "Uh, from this, silly!"

The nephew flinched, and the uncle said, "I wasn't even holding it as if to throw - it was lying on the flat of my open, unclenched palm, Fuzzy-winks!"

"All right! All right! But what of the other letters?"

"Well! Seeing as the rock was weighting down the document entitled "Oath", I think that the O. signifies this document."

The nephew, looking wildly about to pick up on some clever tidbit before his uncle could, spotted a waste paper basket beside the desk where Robin was found, and noting it as a "bin", said that B. stands for bin.

The uncle said, as having reached the right conclusion before him, "No. B. is for the book beneath the document. I. is for the index at the back of it. And N. is for the heading of the listings of words beginning with N."

"But why should any of this make any sense?"

"Should it? Let's just call it an N. for 'Night'!"

The violin screamed, he cried and died
The bow was moaning for a more painful lament never had been heard
Neither Moon nor stars to bathe the sky that night
Only sorrow and a music so sad and cruel
The notes fell down one by one in the silence and trickled like tears
Not a single breath to disturb their grief
The violin wept and my heart sank
“Farewell” whispered the shivering bow…

Quote:

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Originally Posted by ElizabethSewall

The violin screamed, he cried and died
The bow was moaning for a more painful lament never had been heard
Neither Moon nor stars to bathe the sky that night
Only sorrow and a music so sad and cruel
The notes fell down one by one in the silence and trickled like tears
Not a single breath to disturb their grief
The violin wept and my heart sank
“Farewell” whispered the shivering bow…

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That is just beautiful writing.

ElizabethSewall has become one with the Force, fallen in her quest with her master to undo injustice in the galaxy. Her body could not keep pace with her heart, and she vanished into the ether from the arms of her Jedi Master as she lay dying among the widows and orphans of Mon Calamari.

It was a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away. Or it was only yesterday, or a few seconds ago, for time means nothing, the Force superceeds and embraces it, so that the ones that have gone before are not really gone. Nor are the ones presently in tune with the Force bound to the moment, for they may glimpse the future, or converse with those long gone. How the deed was done I cannot truly say, except that there was a stirring in the Force that I felt from afar as being somehow very wrong. Then I learned that Jedi Master Robin Hood 3000 had somehow been cut down on the ice planet of Hoth. And I was left to wonder who might have the powers and skills to ambush one as powerful as he. If I can, I shall contact him, for he will be one with the Force, and his warning will hold danger for all Jedi. What was there on that forsaken frozen rock that he went there to reclaim, and who could have cut him down? http://www.clicksmilies.com/s0105/st...smiley-017.gif

Mr. Pen was brutally murdered when he was defeated in a battle between his ninja penguins and the good members of this forum. Members will both mourn and celebrate his death. He was a good forum member gone astray. He used his position for evil. The ninja penguins in charge of his body refuse to hold a funeral for their fallen leader.

"R" is a letter found in some words like "art", "artifitial", "right" to name a few. Its use is so frequent that no one pays attention to it. But "R" is a letter that draw many people's attention when reading yesterday's news. It was an "R" combined with a "J" to name a "she"; a "she" that has been found dead with the news headline "Who Could Be the One Who Frightned Me?" It sounds like the begining of a story, a story of RJ found dead with a script above her head that serves later as the title of the news paper.