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Thread: No Discoveries - No Critisism - Just A Place To Share Things

  1. #21
    The One Handed Warrior is offline Needs to say Hello! The One Handed Warrior is an unknown quantity at this point
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    A dozen jewels scattered across the country
    Rubies and diamonds and gold
    Over a million dollars to be found
    At first, this is the treasure I seek

    As the hunt goes on I change,
    I learn new codes and the history
    Of the game. Conquering the challenge
    Is my goal, that is the treasure I seek.

    The people I’ve met
    A new appreciation for life
    The friendships made here
    That is the real treasure I have found

  2. #22
    lucynymph's Avatar
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    Default "Zachariah and the Recurring Dream of the Tokenless Gle

    I swear I heard the buzz of a bee outside our window this morning, alas, was just the pesky dragonfly swirling paths of blue around Ana's thistle of breath. I look for Pook as I do each morning, my best friend, my companion, my laughter, and my practical mind flashes back to the crystallization. Like lightning. Like a firefly in your eye. Now I am an emotively crystallized carpenter, the birch grove is still gagging with blight, and the Snail perches on my window. Fairies accompany the creatures, Elrohir and Evan, Snail's handkerchief replaced with a shirt bearing a witticism. I smile each time I see it. I frown each time I realize this happens every night. The blight, crawling toward Yorah like a sinewy dragon, hiding in serpentine code. Rusful, still controlling the celtic knots with his dust. When will the dream end so I can return to the smell of oak and become one with Ana again. I miss making my puzzles by the lamp of the moon, but not like Pook. And it rains everyday. It rains incessantly so there is little wood, and aching, wet limbs at that. The blight elludes the rain. I long to hear Ana's singing and the alluring phrases from the tongues of trees. She is always asleep - encased in her willowy prison like a shadow of a dandelion. Perhaps my ladybug friend will drift in some morning to awaken me with her charming rhetoric, or even old spider, eight eyes and mouth offering me a 'lector-ish' lecture. Body beautiful sapphire blue like the wings of woodland Flower Fairies. The dream reknews, a candle whisper as I ache to touch the jewels - a chisel-cloaked Rusful. They ellude like pollen.

    bronte
    Deep in Blue Dog's eyes will always lurk the hopes and longings of a melancholy people, but, like the Cajuns, who always trained their eyes on the future, Blue Dog must move forward.
    ~George Rodrigue fr 'Blue Dog Man'

    He must have a truly romantic nature, for he weeps when there is nothing at all to weep about.
    ~Oscar Wilde

    From sumthyngness into givyngness unto the given.
    ~fr 'DAR' m.s

  3. #23
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    Default Fiction: Part Two: A Captive

    Ana awoke to a gentle buzz above her head - sitting up, she smiled at Pook and Zac sleeping soundly. "Well, what is it," she thought, brilliant slivers of acorn eyes fluttering. She searched for a pesky pickensrooter, but her eyes opened and blinked back the image. There was bee, gentle, hungry, perched prisonlike behind the bars on the willow-paned window of the treehouse bedroom. His ethereal wings of gauze and gems looked bent and damp - as if he had sustained a fall. Ana read his thoughts and drew breath, blinking back the tears. Since the blight had disappeared after the rain, with Rusful's demise, the pollen in the forest remained extinct. Flowers wilted with sun and rain, spider stomped angrily in the evening for a cool drink of honeysuckle wine, and Zac searched daily for the buzzing of bumblebees echoing throughout the Great Forest.

    " I zeem to be a prizzoner of a random darkling. When Pook zzzzzzaved Zac, and the Rain awakened the forezzzzzzzzzt creaturezzzzzzzzzz, I was snatched by a dark fairy, not one addrezzzzzzzzzzzzed within the immediate contentzzzzzzzzzzzz of the nomenclature." " I fear for the Great Forezzzzzzzzzzt and for myzzzzzzzzzzelf...."

    With that, the bee was gone, faded like a fabricated find, a dream. Ana rubbed her eyes. I must awaken, Zac.

    "Zac, Zac, wake up!" Ana whispered quietly but emotively. "Read my thoughts, shhhhhhhhhhhh....listen."

    Zac knew of the missing pollen, the dying flowers, the angry spiders, Ana's thoughts flooded his mind like a lake of roses, quieting him, preparing him. He heard her explain the plight of the bee, a key to the survival of the Great Forest, and jumped out of bed to assemble Pook and his troving parcel. A copy of Ana's 'book', an inkwell and paper, and the chisel Ana presented him with on their first anniversary were the only tools he needed - he was a carpenter after all, but his wits and intuitiveness would see him through. He had the faeries, now.

    Ana kissed him at the doorway, Yorah still sleeping in her age and wisdom. "Packed some thisles for you, dear Pook, and three dandelion sandwiches, dearie". Ana had taken to calling Zac 'dearie' since Yorah's weariness from age and ages with young acorns. "Wish there was a nice slab of honey on there..." Zac thought to himself.

    Remember, in the village Ana whispered, the sheriff I dreamed about, well his name was 'Rufus.' I hope he doesn't have our dear bee.

    I will find him, Zac communicated, and Pook let out a loud "uff, uff' to reiterate.

    "ZZZZZZZZZZZee you zzzzzzzzzzzoon," Ana said, strangely. Stranger still, Zac knew what she meant...



    bronte
    Deep in Blue Dog's eyes will always lurk the hopes and longings of a melancholy people, but, like the Cajuns, who always trained their eyes on the future, Blue Dog must move forward.
    ~George Rodrigue fr 'Blue Dog Man'

    He must have a truly romantic nature, for he weeps when there is nothing at all to weep about.
    ~Oscar Wilde

    From sumthyngness into givyngness unto the given.
    ~fr 'DAR' m.s

  4. #24
    The One Handed Warrior is offline Needs to say Hello! The One Handed Warrior is an unknown quantity at this point
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    Default The Dream

    The Dream

    In my dream, I plod along for miles and months in the marathon. Initial excitement turns to tedium and finally to euphoria as the end comes into sight. One hundred yards from the finish line, a van pulls up and dozens of runners emerge, sprinting towards the finish line. They look back at me saying, “Sorry old man, no points for longevity here. The only thing that counts is crossing the line first.” This isn’t a marathon but a sprint and I’m in the wrong race. I wake…

    Into another dream. Racing a car around a track – five laps, a dozen. At the checkered flag, I’m in front. I pull myself from the car and go to the winner’s circle, seeing the amazing gold trophy in front of me. Seconds before I take the trophy, a nameless, faceless woman grabs the trophy cackling “finders keepers, losers weepers” over and over again. I wake …

    Into another dream. I follow the way pointed by fairies. Checking carefully against my clues, I pick my target and search. Success! And gold! Instantly, dozens of people surround me all shouting “I knew about this months ago”, “I was here yesterday”, “I talked about this with my friends”, “Cheater”, “Fraud”, “Do the right thing”. The din is so loud that I wake…

    Into another dream. It’s October 2005 and I’m logging into tweleve.org. I check to see who is in chat and only my old friends are there – h_____ and b_____, the four S-men, 2 C’s and D’s. Are they just reminiscing about the games’ final moments, the “good old days”, or have the last two tokens evaded everyone’s grasp and this is a brainstorming session for the hard-core, the old-timers, the persistent ones? Trembling in anticipation of the latter and fear of loneliness in the former, I click on Chat and I wake….

  5. #25
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    Default Speechless

    What a powerful post, my heart is racing, your use of metaphors is effective and personal, I related very well. Thanks for such a sentimental synopsis of sleuths on a Sunday, eating sandwiches, searching for soundness of a subpoem ; (no offense, lyric

    I dig it the most


    bronte
    Deep in Blue Dog's eyes will always lurk the hopes and longings of a melancholy people, but, like the Cajuns, who always trained their eyes on the future, Blue Dog must move forward.
    ~George Rodrigue fr 'Blue Dog Man'

    He must have a truly romantic nature, for he weeps when there is nothing at all to weep about.
    ~Oscar Wilde

    From sumthyngness into givyngness unto the given.
    ~fr 'DAR' m.s

  6. #26
    lucynymph's Avatar
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    Default Part Two : AN UnANticipated GAthering ATT FICTION

    Outside my window in cloak of blue, the Dragonfly wears her dance
    A regal gown, of gossamer, her courage sweeps romance
    I spy the Snail, and what of you, sweet circles on your face
    With patience 'cross my handkerchief I shall always fare the race.
    I see. A Bee. With thistle-down, her sad swoop, faded buzz
    Alas, in hunt, she has been smacked, outfoxed, by Forest Fuzz...
    Dear Grasshopper, my oldest friend, like Yorah sings her songs
    Your music in the evening keeps my faith, with stream, along..
    Oh Caterpillar, lost in blight, I long to set your silken prison
    Upon my feet, like slippers, new, to sip your willow wisdom.
    Sweet butterfly, so stifled now, and captive of the wind
    Return back to the Yorah of the hope I hold within...

    bronte

    (see, i can rhyme, insane
    Deep in Blue Dog's eyes will always lurk the hopes and longings of a melancholy people, but, like the Cajuns, who always trained their eyes on the future, Blue Dog must move forward.
    ~George Rodrigue fr 'Blue Dog Man'

    He must have a truly romantic nature, for he weeps when there is nothing at all to weep about.
    ~Oscar Wilde

    From sumthyngness into givyngness unto the given.
    ~fr 'DAR' m.s

  7. #27
    debz's Avatar
    debz is offline Good Twelever Gold debz is an unknown quantity at this point
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    Default

    What creative minds we have here. Enjoy your work, all of you!

    debz
    The only token I found was SQUAT!!!
    http://www.tweleve.org/upload/squat_token.jpg

  8. #28
    The One Handed Warrior is offline Needs to say Hello! The One Handed Warrior is an unknown quantity at this point
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    What begins as a renewed interest in nature turns destructive
    Soil compaction, vandalism, homes destroyed.
    What starts as teamwork and camaraderie turns sour
    Backbiting, fingerpointing, name calling.
    An undeserved sense of entitlement from the new ones
    leads to unjust bitterness and negativity from the old.
    Familiarity breeds contempt; human nature at its norm.
    My disappointment ever expanding

  9. #29
    rags is offline Getting the hang of it. Copper rags is an unknown quantity at this point
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    One Handed Warrio

    That was perfect......it represents how a lot of us feel.
    I am sure this is not how MS envisioned his hunt.

    Thank you for expressing my feelings as well.



    rags

  10. #30
    12pm's Avatar
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    Default

    No matter how this practical man’s heart pumps,
    There is a xylem in my blood that spells what trees speak.
    On the peak of a dream, I parsed your willowed prison.

    Of all lovers we leave entwined, here’s the gem:
    Old self, mon frere, mon semblable -- my roots’ reach
    From muck to fount a new beginning.

    That is how all good fairy tales end.
    Counting the goodness an ant can teach.
    Brooking the language of leaves.

    Out of the rotten stump,
    Blazes the azure, the fly,
    The arrowed spider, the tongues
    That number our true names.

    We who were the children in the garden’s maze
    Become the alchemists in the frozen web.
    What we touch that’s green grows cold.
    We but live to die, but love to live again.

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