Discovery Gaming Community

Welcome to Poetry Corner, a sanctuary of the mind, aboard our Hedonistic Pleasure Palace. I am Your Captain; Lord Humphrey Beauregard Chanceton, Director of Passengers and Trade for OSC. And I will be Judging the Poetry Corner Compettition. Heres a little nonny of my Own:

So softly did she step,
So quickly did she leave,
My ears would not betray me,
And my heart would not believe,

Best me, if you can, simply introduce yourself dear passenger, and delight our minds and souls with your deepest emotions rendered bear. First, second, and third place will win fabulous prizes!

And the prizes are: 10 million sirius credits, 5 million sirius credits, or a full load of luxury consumer goods delivered anywhere in sirius (except to outcasts) wether to a ship, or base, free of charge courtesy of OSC!
First place will pick their prize, second place will then pick, and third place will have what remains.

But ah; we will have none of those low people who would stoop to use the words of others. It must be your own work, stealing poetry is punishable on this ship with immediate airlock jettesoning into the omega neutron star.

And so, let Poetry...commence.

That was a rather nice poem, Mr. Chancton, quite smashing really. However, I'€™m not one to back down from a challenge, even if it means me gettin'€™ up and readin'€™ poetry in front of everyone. I'€™m Richard Hastings, and rhyming isn'€™t exactly my cup of tea, but I do have a nice little poem I wrote a while ago, about a flower, or nature, or something like that... These cruses do tend to evoke memories of nature, what with all the bouquets in the lobby, so I though this one might be appropriate.

'€˜Walking through the woods one day
Upon a flower I did chance
And in the idle month of June
Upon its nature I did glance

A head of colored, shining pedals
Full with nectar and sweet perfume
But curs'€™d thorns with narrowed points
Lay waiting '€˜neath the beautiful bloom

Such paradox and contradiction
Wrapped up in one small, simple flower
Capable of amazing beauty
Yet possessing such harmful power

Nature shows us with the flower
That many things are in disguise
For though the blossom may seem tempting
Reaching for the thorns would not be wise...'€™

Now, how'€™s that for an amateur?

Very nice mister Hastings, and do we have any more blushing bards ready to share their inspiration? Come on now dont be shy.

come now, lets not make it too easy for him eh?

*As one of the fellow people listening to Mr. Hastings, he claps a few times, standing up* Well Mister Hastings..I'll take your challenge..The right words..Can make a more lasting impression,..*He takes the hand of his wife nearby, bringing her a bit closer to him and gazing into her eyes*

As morning hues of sun-swept fires caress your passionate face...
Along with the pure desire, to worship untold grace...
My soul would cry in a silent prayer for a hour swept apart...
Your essence warms the evening air as I dance into your heart...

*With that he raises her hand, lightly kissing her soft skin for but a moment, her face flushing red as he looks back to Mr. Hastings* Simplest of words, can make a much more lasting impression...

*Lord Chanceton smiles pleasantly at the recent poet*

"Congratulations sir, you have won the bonus prize for your interesting choice, I hope you enjoy it-"

*He narrows his eyes*

"For all eternity!"

As this puzzling cry rings out through the hall, a fist slams down onto one of the many buttons situated at the guard station, a pneumatic tube drops over the man who thought to pass off poetry from the ancient text of The Three Musketeers, as his own. Within moments, his despairing yell - a poetry in itself far more compelling than any charlatan attempt he made in life - is the only bit of him that remains on board, as his mortal body is hurtled out into the void.

*Lord Chanceton walks fowards, his face merry once again*

"And those my dear guests, are the consequences of attempting that most infamous of villainous deeds; the stealing of peotry!"
"Now, do we have our next contender?"

**

Arthur Thompson, in a shabby and out-of-fashion suit and hat, stares wide-eyed at the lethal scene that had just transpired before him.

Interrupting the stunned silence from the passengers in the room, Arthur spoke.

Eight centuries since Man left Earth
fleeing from the horrors of their own hand
leaving the blue-green cradle of birth
to reach a new claim of hope and land

But death and war followed us here
for we are master's of our fate
forging worlds of greed and fear
no escape from the hells we create

The Alliance of old has fallen to winter
The Houses now fight, the Houses splinter

Ah! Ye-es! What exquisite torturous rhapsody! NOW we are making... Poetry! I must have more, I DEMAND MO-

*A gentle shimmer across his senses, cuts of Lord Chanceton mid-enthuse*

Ah ladies and gentlemen, please continue in my absence, do not fear, on this ship, I hear All.

*He turns, and perhaps it is a trick of the light, but one moment he is there, the next something is occuring, and the next he is gone*

A young man rises and steps to the fore of the crowd, his casual gait belying none of his inexperience or awkwardness. Brushing a rogue lock of hair from his face, he turns to face the gathered audience.

"Vale Waters," he begins by introducing himself, "I'm not what anyone would consider a poet, but I know the feeling of being moved by words. To me, it's just as much their interpretation as the eloquence of the language itself. My idea of a perfect poem is one that is interpreted differently by everyone who hears it; yet remains beautiful, or appropriate, to each."

He clears his throat, slightly uneasy now.

"Here lie we, the intoxicated,
In this, our cradle of shallow dreams."