Another creative game

The Dragon smirked his glory.
He really thought he won.
But this morbid battle had just started to begun.
With Drama's long lost ghost
beside the hero's side
Bookinator raised her sword and poked Pen in the eye.
The scaly beast both writhed and squimed
quite obvious in pain.
Who wouldn't be uncomfortable
with your poor eye maimed?
With one wrong step, off there he went;
Poor Pen sure had a trip
over Drama's silvery foot.
Boy, that was quite a slip!
Tumbling down the grassy hill
all scorched from Dragon's fury
Ol' Pendragon took a spill
right into something furry!
"A dragon!" claimed the fuzzy beast
(a mix of cat and dog)
as down the slope Pen still went
and right into a bog!
"Help!" cried the beaten dragon
(For, he really was quite sore)
as mucking mud pulled lizard down
and low into the floor.
The dragon's cries were for no good-
Drama's 'venge was sweet
While Book just sat back by the pool
and soaked her hurting feet.
The moral of this story
(That's the thesis of the lore)
is never mess with crazy writers
or you will be no more.

Nice poem, Bookinator! :)

The PAM decided to become immortal. He dowloaded a copy of himself onto his computer, just in case he should ever encounter an unexpected mishap. unfortunately, the very next day, Bookinator met with a tragic accident when his computer fell from the desk and landed on his head, killing him instantly, then dropped to the floor and smashed.

The moral of this story:
Irony stinks. :p

Somehow, the beginning of the text selection recursively included typists left finger so that when the "paste" operation was selected, the victim was sucked out of her seat and drawn into the CPU and processed into a million bytes of human genome data but then the character input buffers were overfilled and the operation was terminated.

It is a cyber tragedy which is still under investigation.

After investigating a cyber tragedy involving a certain she-writer, Captain Pike went home for a well deserved rest of posting on LitNet and reading good books. Little did Pike know however, he had been followed home by a mysterious figure. That stormy night, a sound echoed through the house, the sort of creak one should here only in a horror movie. Pike looked about nervously as the wind rose to a loud, fearful roar and the rain's gentle pattering morphed into a sort of tap dance of doom. Suddenly, he saw her, a zombie and victim of technology misuse, slowly stepping toward him, pencil in hand. Valiantly, he pulled out some pink glitter, hoping it would forestall the undead teenager. The tomboy writer shuddered, obviously disliking the horrid, light red color. With a hiss, the phantasm pulled out- A tape of recorded soap operas. As the lights flickered out, the TV popped on and a badly lighted mansion was shown among the pixels. The next day, Pike's body was nowhere to be found. Where he is now, none know. Some say he haunts the forum on LitNet, others believe his soul is trapped in As The World Turns, never to read in a library again. I say, a cyber ghost Bookinator makes a good ally, but a fearful foe. Beware, bwa ha ha ha haaaaa.....

What we think what we know is elusion
What we are what we shall be Bookinator
To be selective about the reality to accept
And not to believe everything you thing to be real
But one reality I know and shall accept
That the one who said that is dead for real

adilyoussef was walking in the woods one dark evening. This moonlit walk was in fact, a walk with Fate. As our newly returned friend hastened along his way, he suddelnly came face to face with a chainsaw wielding demented smiley. http://i61.photobucket.com/albums/h5...eys/jason2.gif

Poor adilyoussef is now but a ghost of his former self....http://i61.photobucket.com/albums/h5...ys/ghost-1.gif

The Dasterdly Wench forgot one thing in her attemt to become Queen of The Pirates. The Dastardly is haunted already--by Auld Arrow, "Ye rek'lct Auld Arrow, dinnae ye no, mateys. Nay ship what e're sail had luck w' a woman aboard o' her. Hee. Yon splash need not wake ye, mateys. 'Tis just Davey claiming another puir soul... Hee yes..."


http://dreamsandwich.com/modules/xcg...mal_ghost1.jpg

Dragons turn out to be real after all (who knew) and they come and gobble Pendragon up...It would be a pretty cool way to die...anyways they chew him into little bits and fly away.

SeaSong Dirge

Listen to the sea sing a song—
One more sailor passed away.
One more lost soul went wrong—
The only one happy is Old Davey.
Drowned in the depths of the deep.
Bones turn to corals very fast.
Sleeper dreams endlessly eternal sleep—
Waking no more, remembering not the past.
Dragons come in more than one type.
You make one angry, take on the whole clan.
The serpents of the sea took out that tyke,
That even dared suggest that we were created by man.
Now an Egg-Born is Immortal and will rise anew:
As to the SeaSong will it play again, clear and true…

Pendragon

http://i94.photobucket.com/albums/l1...a20serpent.jpg

Kill my Uncie and kill me.. :bawl: Okay, if you insist.

Widespread AIDS. No one is spared.

To Kill a Flower

Where have all the flowers gone?
Their beauty cut by a florist’s blade—
Crushed to make some sweet perfume,
That doesn’t last, that too so shall fade…
Where have all the flowers hid themselves?
No colors bloom among the fields—
Placed in vases upon dusty shelves—
Not gladdening hearts or helping heal.
Why have all the flowers gone away?
Man cannot not enjoy unless he also destroys.
Then there finally comes a dismal day
When he finds he’s lost forever what he should enjoy.
My Flower was still tender with so much room to grow:
When the blades of some gardener laid her low…

Pendragon
© 3/17/07

http://i94.photobucket.com/albums/l1...lies/tulip.gif

It's a very sad day for Pen is no more. He went to a King Arthur Fantasy Camp (ya know like the baseball one); One of the highlights of the camp was trying to pull Excalibur out of the stone. The winner would be king for a week. Pen stepped up and pull the sword from the stone in his excitment he jumped about waving the sword in the air. Sadly he didn't see the banana peel. The Authorities still can't figure out how he fell on the sword.

papayahed crashed her volkswagon beetle into the soccor field while listening to eighties hair metal (probably Ratt), wearing a giant madonna type eighties bow in her hair, a fingerless lace glove, jellies, jelly bracelets, stirrup pants and a spiral perm. She was reciting the distance formula right before she died.....

Chopping Up Shallots

I always thought that the term “Shalot”
Had to do with Chefs and pots and salads—
They are those small, rancid onions, are they not?
So why am I here writing another of my ballads?
Oh, yes. Ahem. The newspapers held the story sad,
That on yester eve, somewhere about the hour of eight;
A Chef from a four-star restaurant went out of his head
And a young lady met a gruesome fate.
He had brought along his great big chopping knife—
Often used for chopping up those greens;
Only this time he used it to chop out her life—
It’s strange how much blood a body bleeds.
Well, a Shalot is a Shalot whether girl or salad garnish:
We must polish up her marble headstone, those things are bad to tarnish…

Pendragon
© 3/18/2007 11:09 AM

http://i94.photobucket.com/albums/l1...n_Shallots.jpg

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Pendragon

To Kill a Flower

Where have all the flowers gone?
Their beauty cut by a florist’s blade—
Crushed to make some sweet perfume,
That doesn’t last, that too so shall fade…
Where have all the flowers hid themselves?
No colors bloom among the fields—
Placed in vases upon dusty shelves—
Not gladdening hearts or helping heal.
Why have all the flowers gone away?
Man cannot not enjoy unless he also destroys.
Then there finally comes a dismal day
When he finds he’s lost forever what he should enjoy.
My Flower was still tender with so much room to grow:
When the blades of some gardener laid her low…

Pendragon
© 3/17/07

http://i94.photobucket.com/albums/l1...lies/tulip.gif

---

Ouch. *dead*

Pen and Paper

Liquid and feather, trinkles.
Bottle and jar, breaks.
Parchment and coffee, mixes uneasily.
But Uncle Pen's paper..and his mind...lost shabbily.

He lost his pens
He lost his books
He lost his papers
Now he lost his hands.

I dunno what the hell I was thinking. I could never live up to my poetry expectations.