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Offline Murometz

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Poetic Musings
« on: December 04, 2008, 06:07:39 PM »
emphasis on musings, NOT poetic.

I just feel we need a place for some poetry, songs, limericks, and lyrical musings of every stripe. Perhaps humorous, perhaps not. Original material only please.


Llamas in Tanks

The plains were a’flame, b’tanked, and x’ploding
As Ronald looked out, before quickly reloading

Shootin ‘em dead was his forte and  trade
But he couldn’t shoot tanks, ‘twas no arcade

His rifle he’swallowed and shot up his brain
and now there’s no Ronald, an’ no one to blame

Well, one can find blame with the Llama o’course
Camelids in tanks! Ronald laughed  til’ was hoarse
Who can imagine such a terrible force?

A llama b’tanked, and by choice!
« Last Edit: December 04, 2008, 06:21:29 PM by Murometz »
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Offline Murometz

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Re: Poetic Musings
« Reply #1 on: December 04, 2008, 06:18:58 PM »
The Ballad of Dujek

Concussion severe,
Deaf in one ear.
Eye drooled a puddle,
Speech slurred and muddled
The mage’s face looked quite like tripe
His ear, red cauliflower ripe

Chorus:
His jaw swung right, his jaw swung left
The side of his head was dented and cleft.
His jaw swung left, his jaw swung right
He never shirked before a fight

He sneezed up blood, he vomited brain
His skull was nearly cleft in twane

He rued the night he spied the gnolls
Upon the damp and grassy knolls.

His hands did tremble, his body did shake
He would never again feel wide-awake.

Chorus:
His jaw swung right, his jaw swung left
The side of his head was dented and cleft.
His jaw swung left, his jaw swung right
He never shirked before a fight
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Offline Murometz

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Re: Poetic Musings
« Reply #2 on: December 04, 2008, 06:22:31 PM »
Murometz.com theme song


Riding along the road
wet whistling ahead
inumerable cicadas
we're better off dead

yeeeeeaaah, we're better off dead.

gas primer conked
my ulnar reacting
wet whistling ahead
or is that her farting?

yeeeeeeeaah, we're better off dead
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Offline Pieh

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Re: Poetic Musings
« Reply #3 on: December 04, 2008, 08:16:38 PM »
Tic-Tac's Ballad
An unfinished song written by a half-gnome/half-copper dragon bard.

More than a Gnome,
not quite a Dragon.
We're goin' for a ride,
so hop on the wagon!

I'll play my banjo and I'll play it loud!
So loud, it'll make Olidammara proud.

Enough about me for now, we have to go!
Got a bit of travelin' to do ya know?

We grab our wheels and head for the stables.
Once inside, we put the horse to the wagon,
and the whip to the horse, and
wheel to the ground, an' we're outta town.

On the open road, the not so desolate path,
I shall unleash my Bardic Wrath!
Inspiration, Fascination, don't you break my Concentration!
Who the hell chose this camp location?
I cast Alarm and take a nap, that Kobold better not touch my crap.
If he does he'll get a slap, a bit of blindness in his face,
a Line of Acid, then my mace.

Morning came, we resumed our pace.
Down the river, along the woods,


Sorry, that's as far as I got with that (it was a few years ago). Tic-Tac was a fun character, but I no longer remember enough about his adventures to finish his tune, if anyone wants to add to it they may. Enjoy!
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Offline Murometz

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Re: Poetic Musings
« Reply #4 on: December 06, 2008, 12:39:19 AM »
Ode to MoonHunter (forgive me, Edgar!)

Once upon a midnight’s weary, while I pondered meek and teary
There came a tapping, a gentle rapping, at my chamber door
‘Twas the Moon Hunter, not a santa, not a whore, not a pizza to pay for.
Brazenly, he strode across my floor, having been here times before.

Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in arse-cold December
And my fire but an ember, and I expected to be napping
but he shook me, gums a’flapping, sat me down and shared his lore.

I Quoth the Moon Hunter, evermore!

Then me’thinks, the air grew denser, perfumed by some forgotten censer
and the Hunter stood reclining, there beside the velvet lining, and began his wise divining.

And verily he spoke.

Tell me, is there any sage a’wiser? Sharing knowledge like a geyser?
Any prophet more prophetic? Any genius so energetic?
Any mystic as intense? Tell me quick, you flighty twit
Before I even think to sit.

Nay, I prattled, no one else! Thy brain is paranormal!
But have a toddy, rest your feet, there’s no need to be formal.

Then the Hunter, still beguiling, forced my sad face into smiling
As he stood there, gently winking, the man taught me the art of linking
as I sat there, heavy-drinking. Then, alas, we turned to google, while I baked the sage a strudel.

(you try rhyming something with google).

This and that, his wit exploring, and not a single word was boring,
he had called it mental-soaring, wisdom-knocking at my core!

I Quoth the Moon Hunter, evermore!

There I sat, engaged and guessing, at which next topic he’d  be addressing,
but no syllable expressing, not a peep from me at all.
Feverishly, I began a'mapping, while he started his golf-clapping,
all the knowledge I had learned, as his mind just churned and churned.

Only once I needed rising, bathroom break, not so surprising,
 and fiercely did I stoke the hearth, before we moved along to Aarth.
Later still, I wouldn’t mind swearin’, the Hunter unlocked the gates of Kerren!

I still remember the compiling, of all the notes and careful filing, of all the Lore of Lores and more.

I Quoth the Moon Hunter evermore!

Night outside my chamber door, by then had reached a quarter’ four,
the snow had settled with gentle ease, upon the Autumndale Trees.
And faster came the tales of gnosis, my brain to his, a thick molasses.
And yet I managed to learn more!

I Quoth the Moon Hunter, evermore!

And the Hunter, never flitting, kept on talking, never sitting,
there beside my fireplace, a knowing grin upon his face.
Just that once he stopped to marvel, making me feel a tad bit larval,
when he spoke of a certain smell,
which reminded him of the Garage-Sale from Hell

Quickly engaging in subject-changing, my last week’s socks while rearranging,
I asked the sage, nay did implore, for one more tale of ancient yore!
The Hunter smiled but shook his head, and glanced at me askew instead.
No more tales you’ll hear of mine,
instead take my Top Ten Tips for two-thousand and nine!

And only then began withdrawing, as I settled back to snoring,
did the sage, with slight, curt, bow,
and all I could think to myself was, wow!

His very last words before departing, like angel's songs,
as he went darting, for me quite bitter-sweet and smarting,
and whispered just beneath his breath,
gifting me yet more mental wealth.

I know you think my leave is tragic,
but remember me thusly;
go read Garan-The Name of Magic!

Now as I wise-man, I say as before,
I Quoth the Moon Hunter, evermore!
« Last Edit: December 12, 2013, 06:50:18 PM by Murometz »
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Re: Poetic Musings
« Reply #5 on: December 16, 2008, 09:54:37 AM »
You have much to beg Edgar for forgiveness for Muro!

Actually, this is quite good - suggest rhyme Noodle with Google? :P
   
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Offline MoonHunter

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Re: Poetic Musings
« Reply #6 on: December 18, 2008, 12:57:14 PM »
You have to love this man's work. When he gets into a groove, it is unstopable.  I love all the touches, the poetic ones (mind ...gutter... remove). It is truly a lovely piece of work.

.... now if we could just get him in the groove more often...

I will be back soon. I am currently at 108 posts on my new project
http://forum.rpg.net/showthread.php?t=424444&page=11


« Last Edit: December 18, 2008, 01:15:47 PM by Murometz »
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Offline Murometz

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Re: Poetic Musings
« Reply #7 on: December 18, 2008, 01:08:19 PM »
Thank you for the kind words. It was fun to write. :)

*makes plans to visit Moon's 108 posts*
« Last Edit: December 18, 2008, 01:10:35 PM by Murometz »
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