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The written word of a sock
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Germany sockenfussel
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PostPosted: Mon Jan 18, 2010 5:20 pm   Post subject: The written word of a sock Reply with quote


I hope you do not mind, me taking the freedom of posting my deliberately boring poem-posts in an own thread Rolling Eyes you should know that I just do that for some attention, for I love to be recognized and no help denying I enjoy the praise and the "wow"s I have gotten recently, so give my vanity and let me have my own little playground here, pleeease

Yesterday evening (in my time-zone) Jade wanted me to write about socks, so there I went on asking myself how come a sock could write at all here's the whole story (shortly abbridged Wink )

A sock's ballad

Misty was the grove of muses, where they danced with silky feet
parting where a toe had landed greyish air with body heat
elvenlike their flowing movements swinging dresses airy-sheer
of some stardust-woven texture made them shine like light so clear.

But now hear, one lost a footling, in the deepest grass not found,
as they vanished she'd not notice the bereavement on the ground
sockling lay about in moonlight feeling sorry and alone
fear of loss did overcome it thought that soon she'd overgrown.

not much later one heard rustling and emerging from a shrub
was a boozy elder women, thinking footling was a grub.
Yummy thing was old hags thinking and she tried to eat the cloth
luckily she could not swallow certain thing without a broth.

so she coughed it up and cursed it, "stupid sock, you shall no more
lie around and look like wormlings I shall give you life therefore,
you shall scream and laugh until you and your little throat go sore"
granny staggered off, but sock lay more bewildered than before.

How to give this all an ending, how shall I tell how it went
I could say "All's well now" and the story's put to an end
but alas, then came the humans hearing socken's endless scream
took her with them and destroyed then socken's every little dream
to become a famous poet, you can see I am not it
they have tried to educate me, but I never felt I fit
into anything that's human, into life on earth at all.
for I sometimes hear them dancing, I can see their moonlight-ball
still unable to return though or to get what I desire
I try hard to share some stories which might fill your heart with fire....
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PostPosted: Mon Jan 18, 2010 5:24 pm   Post subject: Reply with quote


Very Happy you rock lol.....this is great!!
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The right song can turn an emperor into a laughing stock, can bring down dynasties. A song can last long after the events and people in it are dust and dreams are gone.
Germany alien_avatar VIP (subscribed member)
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PostPosted: Tue Jan 19, 2010 3:02 pm   Post subject: Reply with quote


I like´it. Smile
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Germany tinkerbelle
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PostPosted: Tue Jan 19, 2010 4:44 pm   Post subject: Reply with quote


*curtsies very deep and respectful*

Almost as good as your ode to Jade, Sock!

And such a clever explanation of your rhyming skills ... Laughing
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Netherlands Haino
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PostPosted: Tue Jan 19, 2010 7:48 pm   Post subject: Reply with quote


Wink

Last edited by Haino on Wed Nov 02, 2011 8:19 am; edited 1 time in total
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PostPosted: Wed Jan 20, 2010 1:44 am   Post subject: Reply with quote


Socken, a true poet! Thank you for sharing these wonderful writings. I'm even more impressed... Smile
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PostPosted: Wed Jan 20, 2010 3:13 pm   Post subject: Reply with quote


Wow wow!

Smile

Great art, socken!
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PostPosted: Sun Jan 09, 2011 11:19 am   Post subject: Reply with quote


Righty Andres (and bru) challenged me yesterday to write sth (a poem in particular) for fun with these words:

blarney, aardvark, flapjack, genuflect, entrance, dubious, cattle

Here you go, not brilliant, but I couldn't leave untried Wink

A dubious aardvark named Barney,
knew to entrance with wit and with blarney,
he made cattle eat flapjack,
and they all got a bad back,
genuflecting before "Prince of Killarney".

tadaaa... Very Happy
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To learn to read is to light a fire; every syllable that is spelled out is a spark. (Victor Hugo 1802-1885)
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PostPosted: Sun Jan 09, 2011 11:22 am   Post subject: Reply with quote


Bwaaa ha ha ha ha ha!!!! Awesome, Sock!
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PostPosted: Sun Jan 09, 2011 4:31 pm   Post subject: Reply with quote


A sock's ballad.... you are amazing, Sock Cool



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PostPosted: Mon Jan 10, 2011 7:32 am   Post subject: Reply with quote


Brilliant poem.
Very impressive, more so because it's not in your native language. I thoroughly enjoyed reading it.
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PostPosted: Mon Jan 10, 2011 10:30 am   Post subject: Reply with quote


My my my sock how awesome and you've really outdone yourself,
I would say that it is genius, but that's my place on the shelf.
SST has found their herion and I'm not talking 'bout the drug.
It is Sockenfussel who is the champ, but watch out for Jade, the sst thug! :p :p :p Wink

Seriously, great poem. I enjoyed it and it IS awesome!
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PostPosted: Mon Jan 10, 2011 1:36 pm   Post subject: Reply with quote


LOL thanks elmer Razz this about sock though! Wink Very nice sock, as always a joy to read what you come up with! Very Happy
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PostPosted: Thu Jan 13, 2011 4:58 am   Post subject: Reply with quote


elmer856 wrote:
My my my sock how awesome and you've really outdone yourself,
I would say that it is genius, but that's my place on the shelf.
SST has found their herion and I'm not talking 'bout the drug.
It is Sockenfussel who is the champ, but watch out for Jade, the sst thug! :p :p :p Wink

Seriously, great poem. I enjoyed it and it IS awesome!


*harumph* it itches under my fingernails to improve these lines, elmer, sorry:

Why my sock that was amazing, and you have outdone yourself,
I would would say that this is genius, but that's my place on the shelf (very good metre here! Nothing to complain)
SST has her heroin(e) (not the same spelling) and I do not mean the drug,
it's Miss Fussel, who's the champion, don't pout Jadey! here's your hug! Razz (yeah I changed it slightly Wink) hehe
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PostPosted: Sat Jan 15, 2011 4:48 pm   Post subject: storytime Reply with quote


Hehe, I know I'm annoying Razz Today was story time and bru started with an educational and sort of brutal story about goblins and some elf and how it was okay to defend your home...
Right for those who wanted to read the story of the dragon and the little bird again in one piece, here it is. Again, forgive me my vanity, I'm weak.

Once upon a time there was a dragon and an old and dignified being he was. He was living alone in a dark stony cave in the mountains and was sitting there most of his days to keep the secrets of the time of yore.

It was long ago since he had seen a living being, for he was sure, whenever we would stir from his resting place, that there would come a knight to steal his riches, all the pearls and diamonds he had gathered over the centuries. So you see, the dragon was afraid to lose some of his treasures whenever he moved away.

But every morning, when the sun came out, and welcomed the fresh new day with her blood-like lively glow, the dragon looked out of his cave and longed to walk in the grass and feel the wind beneath his wings one more time. To be free, to feel the life pulse through his veins and forget that he was one of the last of his kind. He would become young for a day, for a moment he'd feel what it was to be alive.

But every night, when the stars twinkled over his cave-entry he nodded silently to himself saying that it was right the way it was, and that leaving his cave was way too dangerous. I could end here and say that he was content, if only he had been.

One of these mornings, when our dragon watched the sky again, a small bird flew by, but he seemed to be in sort of a hurry. Once, twice, three times the little bird passed the cave-entrance and made the dragon interested, what he was up to. With a curious shift of the head, the dragon tried to stand up and make his weak old bones move towards the light that came shining in.
Hmm that is curious; he said and stretched out his enormous neck. The little bird was still buzzing around making a lot of noise that echoed on the cave-walls. Finally our dragon reached the entrance of his cave looking interested at the little bird that just ignored the huge "monster" that was approaching him.
Busy like a bee he carried small sticks and feathers in his beak and seemed not in the least afraid, when the old saurian cleared his throat. "Good morning" he tweeted sweetly, still flying to and fro, making the dragon's head follow him, left and right.
"Who dares to enter the dragon's den?" Sarkis the dragon had wanted to say, but was totally stunned by the energy, liveliness and fearless attitude the little bird possessed.
So instead he said: "Why are you not afraid of me?" sounding rather raspy and rusty, rather surprised about his own question he lowered his hands on his paws, for he was a tired from moving all the way from his treasures to where the bird flew.

"Me?"... "Why.... should I... be... afraid?" the little twitterer said most happily between entering and leaving. "You are... nothing... but an... old... weak... tree" he went on, leaving Sarkis blank-eyed. After a few seconds had passed, the dragon couldn't help but laugh about the little fellow, who was so foolish to build his nest on the most dangerous of places, he could imagine.
With his deep raspy voice he chuckled and replied: "Well, how come that I can speak to you then?". The bird, way too busy to interrupt his work, tweeted a little song and thought about this question thoroughly. "Well, ..." he started ... "well,..."but suddenly he had an epiphany. "well, we're obviously in some kind of fairy tale world, you can talk because you were bewitched one day, and all it takes is some magic spell to turn you into whatever you were before."

The cave began to growl and shake from the deep grumbling laughter that shook the dragon. Sarkis couldn't help but turn on his back, move his huge claws in the air and kick it towards the cave-ceiling. The bird had been right in a very peculiar way.
Of course Sarkis wasn't a tree, but all the loneliness and years without company had made him weird and solitary, but only now did it dawn on him, that the little bird's company and a little bit of laughter were as good as medicine to his old bones, which still felt the earth revolve and move under his claws.

When Sarkis had calmed down, he bowed most reverently before the little twitter-beak, moved towards the entrance of his cave, as far s he had never dared to go for centuries. Suddenly when the wind brushed his face and his scales he spread his wings again, jumped a few feet high into the air and flew away, where? I don't know, but I had never seen him this content before.
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