Fallen Angel's poetry from a long ago age.

ScienceFair

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Re: Fallen Angel's poetry from a long ago age.

« Reply #315 on: March 02, 2007, 10:38:09 AM »

Yay, fight back and reclaim the land go Paladin to the max! Did you actually make that picture or just add the text? Cause if you made the picture I'm rather surprised. Is there anything you can't do? :-O


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Fallen Angel

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Re: Fallen Angel's poetry from a long ago age.

« Reply #316 on: March 02, 2007, 05:02:54 PM »

Heh...I wish SF. No, I just Photoshopped it a tad Tongue

But the words are mine nevertheless


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Friends share love, laughter, joys & tears. And also share pain, sorrow, dreams & fears.
Never waste the precious present moments we have. For the future is very unknown, and the past…it’s the gone evermore.

ScienceFair

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Re: Fallen Angel's poetry from a long ago age.

« Reply #317 on: March 05, 2007, 11:28:05 AM »

You can use photoshop!?!? ROXXORZ!!!!1!!eleven!! That's crazy. There really is nothing you can't do. Though I do kinda miss seeing your writing submissions, but then again I guess you could say something like that to me, but it's not like I've ever been um... consistent. :-D


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Fallen Angel

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Re: Fallen Angel's poetry from a long ago age.

« Reply #318 on: March 10, 2007, 09:11:18 PM »

Friendship is a funny thing sometimes. What appears like expectations of one another, really isn't that at all. When friends speak to each other, they do not fear speaking the truth, nor, do they fear a reaction to said truth. At least good friends don't anyway...if they do, then they aren't really friends at all.

And then there are those of us, who have that special friend, a special bond, an undefinable pull where the words unspoken, are heard loudest an clearest. I have a friend like that...one whom is held very dear to my heart. One, whom redefined the word 'friendship' to me in many ways. This is for that friend.

Please know my friend, that even when you do not speak...I still hear you. Wink

She Calls To Me

She calls to me across the miles
Night winds carry her whispers
They float on the breeze and through my windows
Falling gently upon my ears
- Hush -
I hear her now.

She calls to me from the oceans
Glittering stars cannot compare to the sound of her voice
When she speaks to me, I am consumed by the sounds
I can hear them now.

She calls to me through my dreams as well
Playing together in the shadows of my sleep
Where we laugh and talk about everything
Friendship unbound
No pressures now.

She calls to me
Every moment of every day
Distance couldn't keep us apart
When fate drew us together
I have befriended her for eternity
That is...
As long as she keeps calling.


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Fallen Angel

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Re: Fallen Angel's poetry from a long ago age.

« Reply #319 on: March 23, 2007, 05:17:20 PM »

I was feeling creative again. Yeah, I know...not real creative is it Undecided

The Keepsake.png (52.8 KB, 387x386 - viewed 193 times.)
« Last Edit: March 23, 2007, 05:33:49 PM by Fallen Angel »	Logged

ScienceFair

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Re: Fallen Angel's poetry from a long ago age.

« Reply #320 on: March 24, 2007, 12:44:25 AM »

Quote from: Fallen Angel on March 23, 2007, 05:17:20 PM

I was feeling creative again. Yeah, I know...not real creative is it Undecided

ROXXORZ!!!1!! I can't believe you managed to write that so well. Did you build the scroll on your own then take the picture? You have really good handwriting, that's awesome!!


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Fallen Angel

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Re: Fallen Angel's poetry from a long ago age.

« Reply #321 on: June 29, 2007, 07:35:50 PM »

For those of you who do not know this, Ontario has to be one of the worst places for weather extremes. The winters are very cold, and the summers very hot. And...they get mixed up all the time as well. Like...10 in the summer. Anyway...a friend has this nasty habit of , well...read the poem. It says it all.

The Ontario Game

I have this friend, and we play this game.
However I cannot, tell you his name.
It’s a lot of fun, and we laugh like kids.
Until I brake, hearing the tires skid.

He turns up the heat, oh so very very high
And watches me glare, and let out a sigh.
“Its 30 degrees outside you know”
Then he turns on the air, subtle and slow.

Next thing I feel are my ears start to freeze,
As I cower and drive, in the now cold blasting breeze.
He tries not to giggle, nor laugh nor smile
As I see the frost forming, with each passing mile.

Then when he thinks, I’ve just had enough
And claims I am not, really so tough.
He cranks up the heat, and the stereo
And claims that he wins, the Game of Ontario

For you my friend. *bows*