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Ovan Maxwell Vice Captain
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Posted: Thu Aug 20, 2009 7:28 am
I figured that we would need a contest like this to express to com- (unincate) Sorry, just wanted to make a haiku. So, the prize is currently3k, but the more entries and donations the bigger prizes. Basicly write about a different kind of love *please limit the same sex cuoples to a minimum, though they are accepted* Have fun and get your friends to join!Ovan
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Posted: Thu Aug 20, 2009 7:40 am
He's older than me By over 20 years
People laugh at us They say that were horrible disgusting people
But I don't care
I love him and I would go to the bottom of the abyss and back If it means i can be with him ----------------------------------- She's younger than me By over 20 years
People say thats its wrong They call me a b*****d They tell me Im breaking gods will
But I do not care
I love her and I would face the fiery gates of hell and battle the devil himself If it means I can be with her
I wrote this about a couple who have a huge age difference. Im not sure where i got the idea, but I think it came out really well. There meant to be said right after one another, or at the same time. The line is to show where there seperated. I was going to put them side by side but I cant.
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Posted: Thu Aug 20, 2009 5:01 pm
Here's my love story.
The general atmosphere was one of such gloom that it seemed to weigh down the air, seeping slowly into the skin of any lonely passerby. Dark, ominous clouds obscured the sun and a thick fog lay upon the ground, a dark veil such as one may have worn to a funeral. Upon this gray and lonely path one, solitary person tread, the heels of his black, polished shoes making a muffled clicking sound against the cracked pavement.
In keeping with the funereal theme, the man’s attire was mostly black with a faint hint of white or gold here and there. Even the complexion of his gaunt face was ashen and pale, tainted by the presence of dark bags beneath his sunken eyes. The only color that seemed to exist was the bouquet of a dozen pink, long-stemmed roses in his hands. Slowly, with much reverence, he approached a solitary tombstone, kneeling to the ground before it, hardly seeming to care about the mud and rainwater soiling his trousers. And, curiously enough, he began weaving the flowers into a wreath, fingers moving deftly and with such swiftness and certainty that it was clear that he had done the same thing many times before.
The pink roses rapidly came together to form a perfect circle with neither a damaged petal nor a broken stem. With great reverence, he placed the wreath upon the grave, looking up at the giant slab of stone. He began to speak, not seeming to notice that there was no one there to answer.
“Do you remember these flowers, Cecile?”
He paused, as if expecting an answer.
“They are from the same bush as all the others, you know. The one I planted from the flowers I had spent so many hours searching for—the ones you sent back to me the moment you saw them.”
His voice had taken on a faintly cross, accusatory tone. Again, he paused, raising gray eyes as if searching for something.
“But this wreath was easier to make, you know. I suppose it is a skill that comes with practice. And—you should know this, though, without me saying so, Cecile—I have had much, much practice.”
Another long pause.
“Is this one acceptable, Cecile? Not a single withered flower, just as I promised, you know.” With a hint of bitterness, he added, “Just the same as the last fifteen.”
If the numbers on the grave were to be trusted, the woman, Cecile, had died five years ago. And every week, without fail, rain or shine, the young man currently kneeling before her grave had come before the stone and woven a wreath of pink roses. And, curiously enough, each time a strong gust of wind had come and blown it into his lap.
This week was no different. A fierce wind whistled through the trees and scooped up the roses, raising them higher and higher into the sky before finally dropping them upon the young man’s knees. “So, these are not acceptable, either, Cecile?”
For a moment, a look of bitter frustration and disappointment crossed his features. But, he heaved a sigh of resignation and murmured, “Very well, then. I shall plant another rose bush from these flowers, as well.” Clutching the wreath, he picked himself up, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.
“It is not fair, Cecile!” he burst out, finally. “Why will you not love me? Have I not been faithful to you? Shall… Shall I come visit you more often? Shall I—” Before he could finish his sentence, the wind returned, this time stealing away his hat, blowing it several yards down the path. “Very well, Cecile, I shall leave. However, I will return in exactly one week’s time.”
He walked away, kneeling to pick up his hat. Heart broken for what felt like the millionth time, he returned to his home, set on a large plot of land covered completely in pink rose bushes, each smelling so strongly of Cecile’s perfume that if Jean closed his eyes he could almost believe that she was there in the room with him. And with that illusion came a curious pleasure that was tinged with sadness. It was the only semblance of happiness Jean had known or would ever know.
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Posted: Fri Aug 21, 2009 9:17 am
Only send a few pages? Idk, but it needs to be sent by the end of today. After that im on hiatus from gaia
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Ovan Maxwell Vice Captain
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Posted: Sat Aug 22, 2009 6:53 pm
How I feel about Him ........♥.........♥ .....♥...............♥ ...♥....................♥ ..♥......................♥ .♥........................♥... ......♥....♥ ♥.........................♥... ♥..............♥ .♥.........................♥.. .................♥ ..♥.........................♥. ...............♥ ...♥.......................... .............♥ .....♥........................ ..........♥ ........♥..................... ......♥ ...........♥.................. ....♥ HeArT ...............♥.............. .♥ ..................♥..........♥ .....................♥.....♥ ......................♥..♥ ........................♥ ........................♥ .......................♥ ........................♥
I will try to say the words That my soul wishes you to know I want you to understand how much you mean to me And why I love you so. No one else can understand my feelings better And touch my heart like you. None can melt my heart By just holding my hand like you. Your affectionate glance or a gentle kiss Is enough to make my cares all fade. Loving thoughts of you envelope me And always keep you near.
I would have written about The big bad Wolf and Red Riding hood but it is To Wordy. crying
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Posted: Thu Sep 03, 2009 5:40 pm
This is a poem about a different kind of a love, the love enough for another person, that you would run with them no matter what the costs. (I know it's a bit repetitive, but I like it)
'Away'
Through your blood stained hand and your tear filled eyes I see your fear, you're screaming inside So take my hand, I'll share the stain The forever regret, remorse, and pain Together ,forever , we'll run away.
Through continents of Earth and the stars in the sky for now and tomorrow, together we fly So take my hand, I'll share the stain The forever regret, remorse, and pain Together ,forever , we'll fly away.
Though your deed is forgotten , It's never forgave So I'll always be with you, Together we'll stay So take my hand, I'll share the stain The forever regret, remorse, and pain Together, forever, we'll stay away.
Though death, one day, will approach, I've been here from the start So together, entwined, our souls will depart. So take my hand, I'll share the stain The forever regret, remorse, and pain Together... forever... we'll fade away
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Posted: Fri Nov 27, 2009 12:42 pm
Do opposites Never Attract?
You fool me? Should I cry or should I laugh? We aren't that different You and me You see life for the future While I'm still stuck in the past What holds us there? Is it hope? Dreams? Or just memories? They said we were in a fools game Two opposites don't make a whole Or so they tell me Can this really not work? Is our love a lie? Should we really listen? Cause isn't the point of us, so we can truly express ourselves? So we can laugh? So we can cry and all that in between? Since when did we start to listen to others? Its our love Not thiers Can't we bring them togother? Past and Future You see life for the future While I'm still stuck in the past Can we make something in the present? Or do opposites never attract?
by: luvd_n_forgotten
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Posted: Fri Nov 27, 2009 2:05 pm
funeral to come
You wander in the park but there is no spark of love to be said in my head i feel so badly injured from all the mean thoughts you conjured my love burns for all the times i yearned for you we should have been two to just sit on the bench but while the wrench of love never turns my love still burns and even as i yell you will not fall under my spell as i hoped to be cupid i felt rather stupid pretending i had a bow and arrow there will always be this sorrow beneath my heart that i thought could never break apart or sever into pieces all those around would see my grievences and hear the sound of the lack of beat from the heart and the stomping feet non which are rampart halt at my sobbing body and soul pouring no one will be prodding at my crushed frame no crane too lift for i am to stiff to be bothered on this day no one will sway me any more my heart forever sore will be broken till stroken by the hand of the unseen grant of Death's scene
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Posted: Sat Jul 03, 2010 6:22 pm
Hey is this still open? I only ask because you gave no real end date and you didn't announce a winner. At least I don't think so. Just wondering....
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Posted: Sat Jul 03, 2010 6:32 pm
I forgot about this XD sorry, err, i guess it could be reoppened, but most of these people are no longer active. I shall end it at the end of this mounth
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Ovan Maxwell Vice Captain
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