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Writing A Poetry Contest, of sorts.


Arcadia
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[size=1]I posted a little something about this on mO, and to my surprise, it actually received some interest. So here it is:

After browsing the forum the other night, reading everyone's excellent poetry, I had this great idea: What if those of us who could write poems (and even some of us who can't) drafted up some poems about any member of OB without ever giving away the name of the person? The "contest" bit of it would be that everyone but the poet himself would then try to guess the identity of the person described, based on little hints and references made within the poem.

This "contest" doesn't really have a spectacular ending prize or anything like that - it's merely a fun and creative way to test your writing skills and/or your knowledge of other OB members.

As far as style and length goes, it's totally up to you. Get as creative as you can with your ideas - the more symbolic and vague you are, the harder (and better) it will be for both the poets and those guessing.

Quality is expected, as always. If you're only going to guess, then make sure you back it up with evidence. Point to specific lines or phrases that led you to your conclusion.

Also feel free to critique the poems you read - constructive criticism is always welcome. That is the point of the forum, after all. ^_~ Remember, play nicely, and have fun.[/size]
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That's a clever idea (sorry that I don't visit your myOtaku - yet).

I think it'd be hard to navigate through one thread with both guesses and poems. How about a separate thread for guessing, and you put "RE: author of poem" and then make your guess there?

Sorry for cluttering up this thread already with OT posts. :sweat:
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Arcadia, awesome idea.


[center]"OB BANNED"[/center]

Your post count?s over one G
And you still aren?t writing stories like me.
I make and break words in my sleep,
And you still sit there and cry
Like the bitchy Bo Peep.

And you?ve been OB Banned,
That?s what I said,
OB Banned!

You?re nothing but a newbie,
Yeah that?s what I said.
You write one shit story and it goes to your head.

You ain?t nothing but a dumb little newbie,
Madly clutching to yo mama?s boobie.
If you think you?re mature then you?re the king of the fools,
And boy, you think you can bypass the rules?

Nahah, cause you got OB Banned,
That?s what I said,
OB Banned!

You?re not hot shit;
You don?t know what to do,
Even those teen-angst n00bs are writing better than you.

You talk to my friends, call me a sniveling peon,
But you?ve been running from me for an eon.
Who you callin a coward? Who you callin a brat?
Why?d your panties get twisted like that?

You?re withdrawing to your safe pussy bubble,
Tryin to get away from it all,
Tryin to get away from this trouble.
Well fella, ya yella bella,
Here comes the smackdown.

Cause you got OB Banned,
That?s what I said,
OB Banned!

Let?s hear it again!

OB BANNED
Yeah!
OB BANNED
Yeah!
OB BANNED

Can you dig it? I know we can, bizotch.
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[center]"Ode to an Injured Equine"[/center]

Though injured equines rarely captivate
And zebra colors may seem rather plain,
It cannot be denied that he's first-rate.

Insanity may sometimes hurt one's fame
(Just look at Michael Jackson's current state),
But this person cannot fail to entertain
And every single chat with him is great.

He serves two lords and acts as chef to both.
What's that you say--A masochist? Hell no!
Don't get the wrong idea; he would be loath
To let them touch his weaponry (I hope....)

He's worn one master as his face, and that
Is all I'll tell you in this humble space.
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[b]The least obvious poem![/b]

His name has more Z's than a post from a bee
If knowledge of music was paramount, he?d be elected to public office, feel me?
He'd be the secretary of keeping it real
Forget the American Eagle, ?Yellow Fatty Bean? would be his presidential seal

He?s a Simpsons prodigy
This individual knows more about Springfield than anybody
His musical palette is just as vast and comprehensive
Just don?t diss Manson or Bowie--he gets really defensive.

When it comes to the Internet, he?s the best graphic artist I?ve ever known
And his web designs are beyond description, they simply own
Generally, he doesn?t get enough credit, and I think that?s a crime
So, I?m going to give credit where credit is due in my little rhyme

Although our opinions about games rarely clash
When they do, I respect his opinions enough to offer the hand of friendship
After I verbally knock him on his ass
Let?s ignore the fact that he?s winning in IM debates 200-12
I?ve never been one to rely on simple math!

Every time he closes a thread, it?s automatically a personal attack
That?s what his new disclaimer is for. Cut this brother some slack
He?s received as many complaining private messages as anyone could want
Pretty soon, his hair?s gonna go as gray as his font

I should also mention that he rocks at Yahoo pool
But if I could beat him once and a while, it?s be awfully cool
He wants to wait until he?s dyed his hair to post a picture right?
By the time that happens, I?ll have died of old age, or at least lost my sight

I?m sure you can guess who this is, my poem isn?t very subtle
He?s one of the best there is at delivering an effective rebuttal
He can make baby Jesus cry and Hitler dance away from hell
If you can?t guess who I?m talking about, I've only got two words for you:
Oh well.
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they cooked
with skillets;
flying pans.
cooking good food
for good people
to eat whole.

it is just another regular day here
in this crazy white world.
just another day
in the white sphere.
and here stands the head of the restaurant.
here stands the man we all know.

he wears a cook's white little hat,
and wears white clothes, and an apron.
he's the head of this place.
he makes his little peons move.
his little cookers twitch and groove.

it's another white day in crazy white boy's neighborhood
just a regular day.

it's all white.
outside his store snow is falling
over the awning of his store.

"crazy white,"
the awning reads in
big, bold, white letters.

inside it's warmer than the winter
as people sit casually in booths and tables.

there's chit-chat all around
and customers always to be found.

the crazy white boy is in the back
feverishly kneading his dough,
shaping his pretzels,
baking them in ovens large.

all about in the back there's a hussle
and there's a bussle.
and the smell is grand.

crazy white boy keeps away at his work
crafting his pretzels.
he starts to sweat as he goes.
wipes off his face for a moment with a towel
then he's back to kneading, forming, baking.

in the front of the store the doors suddenly slam open with force.
in comes a monster that has no remorse.
nor has feelings of recourse.

the monster's clothed in black
standing right out in the whitness of the store crazy white
he's like a stark coma as he walks in straight.

all the people calmly sitting skatter in fear
they hide under tables, some run to the bathroom.
some scream, and others just stand.
but the man keeps walking.
now he's got a gun in his hand.

he walks to the front counter of the store
demands money, the manager.
he threatens to kill.

crazy white boy is called from the back
as he's doing his work.

it's just another white day in the world
this sphere.
but death is near.

crazy white boy refuses to give into this robed figure's
demands.
and as he fights against the black man more and more
the gun is continuously pointed at him.

but crazy white boy won't give up
he keeps fighting the man.
crazy white boy grabs for the gun
but is faltered, kicked, and shot right in the head.

he falls to the ground, dead.
blood falls down his face in rivulets.
and he breathes and coughs and is already gone.

the man robed in black rushes away
grabbing what money he can steal,
and even a pretzel buttered and salted.

it's a crazy white world
as the snow swirls around the robed figure
as he drives away.
it's a coma sphere as it's gone and grayed.

crazy white boy died that day.
and like a phoenix from his ashes rose a man.
and crazy white boy was buried in a grave.
and was adorned with love.

and so was crazy white boy killed
and so was charles' persona dead.
and so then charles became charles
and all was and all is said.
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*only knows whom Charles and Mitch are talking about* -__-

Don't mind if the quality of this poem is a bit off...I'm basically improvising this lol.

He's short in stature
Large in mind
Talk to him
You'll have a merry 'ol time

Admire his banners, vote for him, too
Unless you're a wolf with an azure hue
You can see his pictures in the very next lane
But if you mention Harry Potter, you'll be put to shame

He's short in stature
Large in mind
Talk to him
You'll have a merry 'ol time

We saved his soul (almost)
And had a dance
We made H.O.R.N.Y
And took a chance
The idea died
Whilst in a chat
But in memories
We have the chat it begat

He's short in stature
Large in mind
Talk to him
You'll have a merry 'ol time

He's short in stature
Large in mind
Talk to him
You'll have a merry 'ol tiiiiiiime

Well, this poem changed significantly from when I started it lol. I originally wanted it to be sort of a John Cena rap like Charles's poem, but it warped into more of a medieval minstruel type of thing, heh. Oh well...Shinmaru the Bard doesn't sound so bad to me :p
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[color=indigo]Vanish

Where do you go
For months on end
My wondering maiden bard
My songstress my friend

Where do you go
When you vanish in the air
I hear not your siren song
Nor your see fire flamed hair

Where do you go
When the fires grown cold
I doubt you faded
You were always much to bold

Where do you go
Upon angelic wings
Your friends are eagerly waiting
To see what tidings you shall bring

Where do you go
And will you come again
For I so do anticipate
The return of such a valued friend
[/color]
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[size=1]Kevin, Tony, Charles, Sennen, Deb?

Aiish. This is quick, and kinda messy...I need sleep, and I'm not staying up much longer.

The leader of a Nerd Squad was he once
Proclaimed himself their leader--alpha male
A certain will he twice over did shun
"Beware the Nerds" was his slogan tell-tale.

A one-time Pokémod, he roamed the board
Of online lore and myth, a sort of sage.
A jolly folk, by his close friends adored
And much well known, in that now bygone age.

Changed his name once or twice, again.
A Power Rangers fan unto the core
Once topped the charts of OB posters--[i]then.[/i]
But you'd hardly ever see him anymore.

*laughs* Sounds like more of a tribute than a riddle..ah, well.

:whoops:[/size]
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Sara's is [spoiler]Nerdsy[/spoiler]

Heh, here are a couple that I just came up with. You'll soon see why I don't write too much poetry. The answer to both is the same.

He wants to win an award,
to get him across the ford.
Tis a bridge you see,
to pop-ularity.
He wants to win an award.


Oldie and Newbie both at once,
this rarely seen and unknown dunce.
The answer will fill you with glee,
if not in you then in me.
If still you don?t know
the answer, you shmo
then let me tell you it?s [spoiler]me![/spoiler]

Bah, I'm stuck in Limerick mode. >.> And I'm not even that good at them!
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I have a strong feeling that PoisonTongue's poem is directed at, non other than the King of Bitchiness, Kevin (a.k.a Rick Hunter; Hikaru Hich-ah,whatever that other blasted name is.)

I will now back up my claims with the hard hitting evidence. Some of the poems is here in italics, the missing parts are the ones I could nto accurately reference with anything to back my theory up.


[i]Your post count?s over one G[/i]

Kevin's posts were over one grand.

[i]And you still aren?t writing stories like me.
I make and break words in my sleep,
And you still sit there and cry
Like the bitchy Bo Peep.[/i]

PoisonTongue, bringing Kevin's "script" into disrepute. did he answer back with a resounding rebuttal that would make anyone think [i]"ah, so he did get picked up by Miramax"[/i] no! He bitches and moans, makes some silly little cartoon I never watched. Oh yeah, he also only wanted to continue his "war" with PT at his board, where he could ban.


[i]You?re nothing but a newbie,
Yeah that?s what I said.
You write one shit story and it goes to your head.[/i]


I think of this as another reference to Kevin's "script"



[i]You talk to my friends, call me a sniveling peon,
But you?ve been running from me for an eon.
Who you callin a coward? Who you callin a brat?
Why?d your panties get twisted like that?

You?re withdrawing to your safe pussy bubble,
Tryin to get away from it all,
Tryin to get away from this trouble.
Well fella, ya yella bella,
Here comes the smackdown.[/i]

More references to Kevin fleeing to his own boards, his silly cartoon, and the "petition" to be re instated.

That's my theory PT, don't shoot me down if it ain't correct. this is just what it reminds me of. I'm about 90% certain this poem "OB Banned" is to do with Kevin.


Either that, or it's Bloodsin.
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[color=indigo]A Pair of Scarlet Knights? More like a Pair of Scarlet Poopy Heads!

Two sides of the same coin?
Perhaps not
But the tie that bonds
Is scholarly and more
Two tongues lash out
With lewd lyrical linguistics

Two sides of the same coin?
Perhaps not
But the two scarlet knights
Unsheathe their swords
And attack elegantly
In a debated confrontation

Two sides of the same coin?
Perhaps not
For one wrestled his kingship
With his grasp of inane lunacy
While one remains a poisoned commoner
Yet is outside the box, holding a controller

Two sides of the same coin?
Perhaps not
And to quote Shakespeare
?A rose by any other name
Would smell as sweet?
And that may be true
But I still want them both back
[/color]
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[font=arial]Here's my attempt.
---
I'll write for you
And flame you too
Your ideals suck,
Only right with luck

My point stands boldly
You can bitch, you've shown me
All you do is whine
I've not got the time

Wake up,
face the facts
even if they're despised
I've done for you all I can do
Just freaking open your eyes[/font]
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[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by vicky [/i]
[B][SIZE=1][B]Hmm... sounds good, but one question, which is a pretty dumb one, but...

Is it okay if you base one on a banned member(s)? I mean... I have a really good one, but... could we?[/SIZE][/B] [/B][/QUOTE]

[size=1] Yes. PT already based one on that as it seems. It may seem stupid to ask such a simple question, but it's not. At least you're sure you're doing things as they should be done lol.

But from my understanding, yes; you can do it on any member, banned or not.[/size]
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[COLOR=#503F86]PoisonTongue's was already based on a banned member, hence the title of his poem I guess. I could be wrong, I suppose. But I'm sure there aren't any restrictions on things like that.

I like this thread ^_^ It's great fun trying to guess who's being written about.

I can really only try guessing Charles, Mitch, Sara, Ben and Shin's, and I realise that I guessed Shin's wrong anyway ^_^; Ah well.

[b]My Lady Sword[/b]

My Lady Sword
Moonlight shines on blade,
Return to blazing sunlight-
Let the memories fade.

My Lady Sword
I watch you from afar,
Your enchanting movements
Shattering my heart.

My Lady Sword
Steel of piercing blade
Slash away the demons-
You call and they obeyed.

My Lady Sword-
A shadow in the trees,
Revel in your brilliance
Be yourself at peace.

Okay, it's a little laboured in places and fairly metaphorical, but I quite like it ^_^[/COLOR]
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You were banned once
Yet you came back again

You were banned twice
Yet you came back again

You were banned three times
And you just won't give up
It seems you NEED a drink from the OB cup

In myOtaku you bitch about Mitch
And seem to hate the boards and pick at its seems
But you fail to realize you'll never get back
Not if Charles has anything to say about it at any rate.
------------------------------------------
Can you guess?? My first poem in about two months and off the top of my head to boot. I think its obvious...
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[color=darkblue][b]Poetry in motion[/b][/color][COLOR=darkred]
[font=century gothic]
you work me from the inside
turning on my consciousness
you search my fires and evoke
revelations imploring freedom
The desire to move further

you slide beside me alluringly
sparking fantasies to gasp for life
you entwine deepness to my core
guide me senseless to blissful insights
Tempt the craving to learn

you expose me to your vibrant presence
exuding these overflowing sensations
you pleasure me to early beds
of graves dug deep with stunning knowledge
The final slip awaits deliverance
[/color][/font]------------
[color=seagreen]
Hehe, Arcadia can be really persuasive ^_^


Well, pretty much all the previous poems has been guessed on.
And I have no idea who Solo is talking about, but it sure is a perdy one ^_^

- Mimmi[/color]

[size=1]EDIT: I removed the first one, since I felt more happy with this and there's more fun in diversity ^_^;[/size]
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[size=1][color=gray]
gehehe. It was really funny to make and it didnt take more than 2 minutes hehe.

[b]Starlight[/b]

When the sky is black
and the moon's above,
shes shining bright,
on the water,
reflecting the light
and bringing it back.

Back to the candles in the sky,
back to where meteors fly,
but never to return,
from where she came.
For what once was her home,
is now offically dead.[/size][/color]
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[size=1][color=indigo][font=century]I'll give this a shot...

[b]Black Cat[/b]
Yu squared
Send me a PM
Follow my lost causes
Friend


Wow...that was short....but I think it's sufficient for the purpose. My friens know who they are. ^__^[/size][/color][/font]
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CrH's poem, is aimed at SixthCrusifix. ha :)


[b] Time for a poem of my own [/b]


[size=1][b]It's been a while since I saw.
Half Saiya-Jins, half cactus, populat'in this board.
Once was in gaming yeah, that's where he reigned.
But now he has gone, oh my, how things have changed.

Like the Lorax, who one lived in his 'ol home.
'til the onceler came and took away his abode.
'dem Cactuars slipped away without even a word.
and all down in O-Ville, no more of dem was heard.[/size][/b]

-----///-----

Preety obvious to the oldies, I would assume.
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[b]Her Name Won't Die with Me[/b]
When
in the shoulder, the highway all about
cars smoke
steam, shout.
High speed
going about.

No
order
here.
And look, and stop,
and yield your right of ways.
Stop at railroads always.

No
order
here.

On a highway, the breeze in your hair,
going
high speed,
no cares.
In your tight little car,
on the right side of the road.
High speed.
Driving fast.

The car is a pink little smother,
much like markers of a child.
And the woman still remembers the child
as she goes.

The mile markers
are like eyes--
green, white--
they glare at her.
She counts down.

In the rearview mirror
of her tight little car
there's her face
black hair,
intelligent eyes,
smart, urbane,
picturesque
it's all clear on the mirror.

Where is she going
where is she going to be.
She looks in the rearview mirror.

Objects in the rearview mirror
may appear closer than they are.

And do you remember
someone she held dear.
And do you remember
he was driving his own car
and she feared for him, and knew.
He crashed, steel, metal, crude.

As the wind blows through her hair
on the highway
her thoughts turn to it.

She swears
to the left of her he's right there
driving still, trying to outchase her.

But he's farther than she knows.
Farther than she can touch,
something tangible
isn't much.
And he's beyond that now.

I've seen pictures of him,
seen her talk all about him over again.

And where is she
now
on the highway?
Still speeding?

High speed
she's a pink blur.

Going going going
gone.

Did I just hold my breath?
Did I just cough, sputter, speak?
She's going going going
gone.

She's on the highway
the road is long.
I'm on it too
we're splitting away.
She's got him to hold to,
to remember.
So she stares in the rearview mirror.

I can see her now,
I can see her.
Her eyes look like they're missing something,
and they're full of so much pain.
And in the rear view mirror it looks all the same.

You got to know that objects
in the rearview mirror
may appear closer than they are.

She's looking only at glass
reflections of what's in back.
But what she sees is going to make her, break her
the future that she holds.
It's all in back of her as her car drones.

And she's leaving
she's off and away.
Where's she going?
Won't she stay?

And all those times I laughed,
and all those times we spoke
won't matter in the end.
It's just digital garble.
Reception's gone,
it's fading away.
You can't hear it any longer
it's just a pause.
Little time to repose.
It's gone.

I remember she sent me the most welcoming message
and she welcomed me to my responsibilities here.
She was a real friend.
She was meant to be here,
and meant to leave.

She's on that dusty road
she waved to me as I turned in the exit
and ended up in more tangled of a mess.
She's just the same, she doesn't know.
She's just going about.
She's lost.

If transporation's from a car
made of metal spinning on wheels
then in the end we crash ours
and don't know what we feel.
The body's just car
the soul ends up where it's far.
And we never know where we're going
we end up where we stop
after we go so far.

And objects in the rearview mirror
they may appear closer than they are.

I remember I got all over her
when she talked about how she smokes.
Told her it's selfish, it's killing yourself.
Told her high against it.

She stopped I heard,
stopped smoking.
She told me without her voice.
Only said it in words typed up.
The only way I've ever talked to her.

I was glad for her
real glad.
For smoking's taking away a life
one that's deserved to be had.

I told her it's best to just be comforted
rather than try to understand something you'll never know.
And I know she's been crying about him lately
and I know how much he meant to her.
That little kid I wish I knew.

She's still on that highway
and so am I.
We're all on it
we don't know why.

Where will we end up?
Where will we sigh?
Where will be together?
Where will we die?

Where will we be?
Where will it all come together?
When will we see?

Her name won't die with me.
Her name
won't die
with me.

She gives this place one last look
one looking over.
Then her car
is a pink blur in the distance.

It's
bold.
And eccentric.
And pale.

She puts on her blinker
she waves her good-byes
I can see her
she just cries.

She's gone.

She's gone, and I'll remember her name.
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A guy with a lot of nerve
to say what he has to say
for he is a manly guy
who is totally gay
he hasn't been on much in the past six months
he is a busy guy
he got a new boyfriend
he is sarcastic
but what a wonderful guy
he has cool hair
and a cool signiture too
the creator of bubatara
a friend of wrist cutter's
and a friend of I
he is a really cool guy
that everyone should get to know
for he is my friend
and a great guy
he lives in Orlando
and loves to ride coasters
all day and night
he enjoys watching football
and I enjoy what he writes
he says'lol' a lot
even more than I thought
he is just too cool of a guy
I sought him out
to get to be his friend
I talk with him every other night
he is a really sweet and friendly guy
we have some interesting convos
who knows
we may even meet
he is a really cool guy
he may be gay
but I don't care
he is just a really cool sarcastic guy
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  • 2 weeks later...
[COLOR=darkred]Reading Mitch's poem made me glad I didn't know BabyGirl too well.
It probably would've broken my heart to see her go.
Now it only saddens me.[/COLOR]

**********

[COLOR=indigo][FONT=arial][b]" A strangers comfort soothes the familiar unknown? "[/b]

I believe I walked past tense many times over
Motionlessly going nowhere in circles
Through close distance came intimacy
In spaces of physical detachment was touch

A stranger so familiar to my broken memory
Standing beside eachother before we approached us
All along we came to where we already are
Beyond this will be anything but nothing
[/COLOR][/FONT]
**********

[COLOR=darkred]New poem, new person....

- Mimmi[/COLOR]
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