Occasionally, I will think up some poetry. So, here's a piece for you all to read.


THE ROCK
By SuicuneSol



Upon the sidewalk does one sit
Every morning we pass by it.
We take no notice as we peek from our cars
It's stern and lonely figure under the stars.

Like an old man without a friend
Does it sit there without anyone to talk to
Always for itself does it fend
Through the years it must go through

Morose as it may be
It is not at all free
Not like you and me
Who can cross the deserts and the sea.

Dirty scent, rough skin, and moldy fur
Proves that rocks are inanimate that's for sure.




When I think up more, I will indeed post more.

Nice. I like it.

Hmm....how do I put this...

Your poetry, though it is pretty good,
it doesn't bring out deep emotion like my poetry could.
You write about topics so simple and trite
such as a mere rock lying on the sidewalk under a starry night.
You need more feeling, more emotion, much more passion
to make others enjoy it so that you can earn their satisfaction.
Any reasonably literate person can make words rhyme
but can you make what is written worth their time?

Ok, so maybe that was a bit of a harsh, exaggerated form of my opinion. But then, that's just my critique. You don't gotta take me seriously.

Nice way to state your point...

Hey, just trying to come up with a creative way of doing it is all.

Well it's not that great only because it's schoolwork. If it was out of my own will to do it out of my own time, I would've done better. I've got a few others that I thought up while I was in the shower. I can think better in the shower.

Good. Then why not post those? Those kind are usually better than a poem you were supposed to write for school.

Ok then I will sometime. Only I thought it up a while ago so I need to recall how it went since I didn't write it down.....

Aye, well good luck then. I've forgotten many a poem since I was too lazy to write them down. If you remember any of them, post them.

Pretty good. I like it. :}

Aye...all of yeh are too easy to please...

I know you are, but what am I?

LOL. I should post my poetry..... but I don't wanna coz it's crap!!! :sad:

Maybe, but that didn't stop Suicune from posting his poetry, did it? :D Nah just kiddin. That was mean of me. Really though, what you think is crap others may like. And if it is crap, what do you have to lose?

My Pride.


A Little Song Sung by Mia In The Master Of Alchemy


"I sense there's something in the wind
That feels like tragedy's at hand
And though I'd like to stand by him
Can't shake this feeling that I have
The worst is just around the bend

And does he notice my feelings for him?
And will he see how much he means to me?
I think it's not to be

What has become of my dear friend?
Where will his actions lead us then?
Although I'd like to make him hear
There is nothing for him to fear
Try as I may, it doesn't last

And will we ever end up together again?
No, I think not, it's never to become
For I am not the one..."

(Sung by Mia in the Master Of Alchemy)

Very good, Suicune. That was much better. It had more feeling to it than the one about the rock did.

Yeah. That was cool! I can only write dark depressing poetry.... But I can only write silly humour fanfiction. Yay me! ^_^

Dark depressing poetry is interesting, as long as it's not overdone. Too much makes the author look obsessed with the darkness.

Like Edgar Allen Poe.

No doubt that Edgar Allen Poe was a dark, twisted man...but still, he writes well. His poems are really the most worth reading.

The heck is he?!

Famous, french, dark depressing, insane, horror poem conjurer with a mustache.

Poe as in the Zelda ghosts?

:huh: Whoa...You've never heard of Edgar Allen Poe? Ever hear of the Tell-Tale Heart? The Raven? Any of his other famous works? Wow, I'm shocked....

The legend that is Poe is as famous as the legend of Atlantis. I'm quite surprised that you did not know this.

Wouldn't know him if he fell out of a tree on me. ^_^

Oh. My. God. What kinda remote place are you in?

Wow...I just looked up Edgar allen poe's biography to see what country he was from...turns out, he was American, not British like I thought. I guess since Silver's remote location is in London is the reason she hasn't heard of him...

He's American? I thought he was french...
But not, in a million decades, would I ever think him british.

Ah well, for some reason I just thought he was from England. I'm not sure why.

Never heard of him. I don't know much about literature, to be honest.

But silver...what baffles all of us is that even people who don't CARE about authors and literature have at least heard of Edgar Allen Poe several times in their lives...congratulations. You are the first and only person I've ever known who hasn't heard of good ol' E.A.P.

Silver can you ask your parents or your sisters if they ever heard of E.A.P. ?

My sister's wouldn't know. They're both younger then me, and they're both stupid morons. Plus I don't talk to them 'cept to yell at them.

I see....
Well have you heard of the Oddysey? It's an epic by Homer.

Yup. Heard of that one. Haven't read it though.

All this talk about old literature is getting very boring for some reason...don't you have any more poems, Suicune?

Funny you should ask. I just was planning I posting my latest one:


When I Was In 4th Grade
A freelance love story...


Let me tell you a story.....
In 4th grade.....I had entered a new classroom. Twas the first time I had ever been on a classroom with a 2nd floor. The classroom was yellow with paste on the walls like all mediocre classrooms had. They were empty of tacks and posts for the year had only started. Some new classmates....some old went along with me. I remember the time so vividly.
My teacher was she, a brownish like Oprah. But not her of course. Not at all was she the girl I favored.
We had seated down all gibberish and loud, like all children after a summer break. Enjoying the summer talk about our worries and woes, chatting and treading on each other's toes.
She had short hair she did, sat across from me. I didn't know her, she didn't know me. Hair was black, skinny arms, wasn't that pretty, but definitely not ugly.
As the class settled out, teacher introduced herself. And so the year went on. We both naturally became friends, like it was meant to be. We just conversed, every now and then, and it changed to a bigger friendship in a way.
I was stuck on her. And she was stuck on me.
But what was odd was her lonesome mind, how her only friend was I. She had no other friends, like an orange in the branch of an apple tree. And the warm feeling between us held fast.
As the year went on, I had a place for her in my heart. I was unaware of her feelings for me, but we for sure knew we were friends. I had not looked at her as pretty, more a loved one I could not bear to see absent.
Then the end of the year came, we spoke of our times, laughed at our jokes, stated our rhymes. Never did I have such a wonderful friend, never did I think our lives would bend.
Then the end, of the school came. She walked out the door, out of my sight, strolled down the hall, away down the right. Hoping 'till next year 'till she would return, then again our times would once again burn.
I had turn head. There would be no other.
But however, twas not to be, as I had to soon see.
The next year in 5th, grade that was, we strolled to new classes carrying new baggys. And backpacks and purses and jeans with the saggys.
I sat down in chair waiting for her. I placed my backpack on the seats chair and stood shyly in my old seat. For we were to be switched out of this class this time. It would be a shame to see my old class go. But then again some would join back with me. And some new.
But the bell rang. And she did not appear before my awaiting heart. I had figured she was late for class, as she sometimes was. So waited and waited. And waited---waited---waited---waited---waited---waited.
Until the day ended and no trace at all had emerged.
I began to turn hair. She was not there. In the chair she sat was empty. Twas empty---empty---empty---empty---empty.
The chair was empty.
How I had entered the new classroom without a guide. How the heavens had lied. In this new life I must glide, without her close friendship.
I had regretted the fact, her number was obscure, for we had never asked ourselves the question.
I sat in my new class thinking now, she'll be back tommorow...no need to frown.
So I waited---waited---waited---waited---waited...
And I waited some more. But she was not there after. So I waited the 3rd day, the 4th, 5th. to the end of the week.
I went to pieces I did, her absence it's cause. Could not believe her absence a law.
I waited again and again---again---again---again---again. But she was gone.
She had not come, when I was ten, and never be back, ever again....

Awww. :( Poor you.

The tale is pretty moving but...the way it was written was so focused much on trying to make it sound poetic that it came out not making much sense. You misused several words and said some lines that didn't come out sounding terribly educated either. If you want to make yourself sound like you have a large vocabulary, you must at least use the words in such a way that they actually make sense.