My New Works

[Gonff the Mousethief]

Here is the Diary Stuff from the old forum!

Diary

November 12, 1943   

I have not had much use of a diary since my younger
years, now I feel as though I am in need of one. The past years have been some of the worst on record, especially for Jews like myself. Ever since the Furor has risen to power, our race has been in trouble, with a majority being forced into ghettos or taken to concentration camps.  A week ago today my family, dog, and I left in the middle of the night to leave through an exit in the South end of Germany. However, we were caught by the Gestapo. My father, who was trained as a soldier, took on the two officers who confronted us. Last I heard as we ran were gunshots.While running, my mother advised me  to  go into the local  bookstore  and hide with  the shopkeeper, and family friend Mr. Apsel, until she could  find my father and a new route. He had previously been hiding  another family of Jews, but they had just left a month or so ago when distant family chose to take them in.  So I ran in, with the  midnight moon shining through the door. Mr. Apsel  was quite shocked to see and my schnauzer, Hahn, arriving so late. I explained my situation and he led me down to his basement ,which was connected to a water system flowing through Germany. There, he got me a few pillows from his cot and brought me food every which while. During the whole night, I bawled my eyes out with Hahn licking my face. The floor is just solid stone,  and there is constant leak dripping from the  ceiling . I can also hear the water rushing by from  behind the left wall . Mr. Appel  instructed me to keep two candles near me, both lit, so I can see in the dark depths. Finally, near my rest area, there is a manhole cover. Under it is a ladder that goes down to the sewers. If I am ever to be found, Hahn and I are to go down there fast and run as far as we can.
The week itself  has gone by tooslow. Mr. Apsel has tried his
best to provide for me, but both me and my schnauzer feel malnourished, weak, and tired. The three of us together are scared  far beyond death at this point. Every drip, every step, makes me want to jump down into the sewers  and run, and never stop until  I am out of Germany and of the Furor?s range. He can never get me, he can't? He can't...















November 13, 1943

Last night, Mr. Apsel and I developed a schedule for me to
follow throughout the day. It includes things such as when to eat, sleep, and  move  around the shop. Here is the schedule:

6:00- Wake up
6:30- Eat a small breakfast and gather school books
7:00- Shop opens
7:30-Start on the makeshift schoolwork
10:00-Collect the dripping water from pot for drink
12:00-Shop closes until one for lunch break
12:30-Mr. Apsel provides lunch
2:00-Finish schoolwork and rest/read
4:00-Tidy up rest area
6:00-Store closes; Safe to come out
7:00-Eat Dinner
9:00- Get cleaned up and go to bed

It seems to be going well. Mr. Apsel has gotten the Star of David off of my clothing, and has replaced it with a normal patch of navy to blend in with my trousers. If we are caught, he may be able to pass me and Hahn off as homeless, but I doubt it.



November 30, 1943

Lately, Mr. Apsel has been letting me read very interesting
books, such as Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis, Call of the Wild, by Jack London, and The a Wizard of Oz, by L. Frank Baum. These tales always spark my imagination, leading me to write stories and illustrate them on spare paper Mr. Apsel keeps. My favorite story is one about this small man who travel he destroy evil by burning it. What he throws tough, needs to be unique, like a necklace, or  bracelet. Oh, and he needs to have a group of people to help him. He is small after all. I wonder, if I get out of here alive, if someone could read it, or pick up the idea.
This morning, as I was going to grab a new book, Mr. Apsel
found my doodles and writings. He told me he liked my ideas, but he also quoted a book. His exact words were, ?There are no walls, there are no bolts, no locks that anyone can put on your mind.? I asked  what book it was from, but the shop was about to open so I was rushed down to my resting area. Since then, I have thought very hard on those words. My best guess is the author means that the mind is a place where much can happen. Things of  good intention, and  malice of  dark depths; Thoughts of  love, and threats of hate; Ideas of  creativity, and  a monotonous tone of boredom. All of these, good and bad, can come out at anytime, for there is nothing stopping it. We, as the keeper of the mind, have to be wise on what comes in, and what goes out. It is hard, but when bad things go out, wars like these start, and ruin other minds which are of no harm. Of course, I have been down here for a while, and the fear keeping me up at night, so I might  just be going crazy. Even so, the quote itself is one to consider, deep or shallow. That is all for now. I have things to learn, books to read, and eyes to rest.   




















December 16, 1943


It has been a little while since my last entry, but it is in good
fortune. Mr. Apsel has informed me of the recent arrests in our area, and neither my father nor my mother?s names are on the list. I was incredibly relieved when I heard he news. They are safe!  These past weeks have felt all to familiar; my parents gone, being in a room all day, and people coming and going while I wait. It's just as when we had all of the family, both sides, at our house for  Hanukkah. The whole time my relatives were there, my mom was cooking something, my dad was in and out with groceries, and I was forced to my room. I have only one cousin, but she is off in the States for her schooling. It was so boring , dull, and tiring on my whole family. By Wednesday, it felt as if everyone had been there for years! I don't think I could have kept my sanity if everyone stayed another day. Honestly, I prefer my situation now. Yes, I can be sent away and killed any second, but I am at peace. To this day I still have a bad taste in my mouth of when they stayed. It makes me thankful though, that no one but Hahn is down here with me. I really don't think I could handle it. It reminds me of a book quote I read a while back. It went something like this, ?Anyhow, I've learned one thing now. You only really get to know people when you've had a jolly good row with them. Then and only then can you judge their true characters!? Seems that I haven't really had a jolly good row with any of my family. Maybe I can fix that when the war is over. For now though, I need to go help put some books on shelves and meet this new person Mr. Apsel has been talking about. Hopefully she is nice and won?t tick me off as my relatives did. I have faith that a good old man like Mr. Apsel would do no such thing however.

























December 20, 1943

I seem to have made this small basement a nice and tidy room,
a place where I can be myself. In the farthest corner from the manhole cover, I have a good amount of books and writings piled up, along with some school work. I have gotten new candles, and more blankets and pillows for the winter months. Hahn has been quiet and just the best schnauzer I think anyone could ask for at this point. The annoying water drip has faded tremendously. Mr. Apsel and I have deduced that the Nazis may be cutting off that water source, but we can't really be sure. Speaking of Mr. Apsel, the old knucklehead found himself a girl! Her name is Miss Lieselotte. She has long red hair and a good amount of freckles dotting her wrinkled face. She is a good six inches taller than the shopkeeper, but the way he looks into her eyes evens their height out. Mr. Apsel has told her about our situation, and she is very understanding, as her good friends had to go into hiding as well. Oh yes, back to my room. I seem to ramble far to much when writing in this diary. My room is, is, is what I truly need right now. I go to sleep crying every night, thinking about my parents, friends, and others who are being treated worse than cattle at camps for no reason. It needs to stop. I want to grab a gun from a patrolling Nazi and shoot down the Furor, blowing out all of his brains. No, I want to touch him first. Tie him up and starve him, make him lift stones all day, wake him up before the sun does, and subject him to brutal tests. Than, when he begs for death, I will not give it to him, but rather taunt him, tease him, and ultimately kill him by suffocation in his own poison gas chamber. I need to calm down. Being down her for so long  turns on my bad side. Diary, I am going now, to rest my head, finish up some reading, and get a quick bite during the lunch break. 






















December 31, 1943

This New Year?s Eve has to be the worst in history. I thought
it would be enjoyable with Mr. Apsel, but oh was I wrong. Ever since that Miss Liselotte came to the store, he has seemed to have completely forgotten about me. He will call me up late for meals, won't talk to me when I start my schooling, and has no time to even speak to me. That Miss Lieselotte is even worse. She talks to me like a baby, tries to touch Hahn all day, and even worse, she squeezes my cheeks! What old hag would squeeze a teenager?s cheeks! It's just become unbearable. Both of them are out right now, eating dinner at some restaurant, Bernado?s, I think. Mr. Apsel has been a father to me this last month, and a good friend far before that. I just hope that woman doesn't get in the way with her schnauzer snatching and cheek squeezing.
On another note, the dripping water has completely
stopped. Our guesses must have been right, since Nazi rule is getting stricter around here. Though, I have no idea what need they would have cutting off a water supply. I know the sewer pipe runs southward? Wait? That means it goes to Switzerland? Oh my! This shop is located near the edge of the German border. My best guess is that the pipe probably was shared by the two countries. If this is so, than I could make an escape! Oh diary, this is wonderful! I will see if Mr. Apsel could check it out tomorrow, since he not working on New Year?s. Anyway this gives me something to wake up for now! 

























January 2, 1944

I am in a very bad situation. Yesterday, Mr. Apsel checked
where the sewer  ended. He found that it stopped close to the Switzerland border. As he was coming back, he saw the Green Police patrolling around, checking random houses. Quickly, he came back and informed me. Since then, I have been gathering my stuff and cleaning up my area. Miss Lieselotte has not been around since New Year?s Night, which is odd, since she has been glued on to Mr. Apsel for the longest time. She?ll probably be around tonight though. Hahn has also been acting weird. He has been very quite, and barely eats his scraps. Mr. Apsel thinks it may be worms, but I think he knows something; something important. He has never acted this way, even during storms. It may be that hag of a lady Lieselotte. She makes him so uncomfortable. I can't believe she doesn't hear him growl when she approaches him. Well, she probably is deaf any way.

January 2, 1944 8:43

The book shop was attacked. I was going to get some
leftovers, and the windows broke open. The Gestapo were breaking in. I ran back down to the basement, locked he door, and threw my books, blankets, and pillows down the manhole. From there I grabbed  Hahn and climbed down. When I got to the bottom, I heard  Mr. Apsel yelling and trying to explain, but they busted the door open and found nothing. My breathing was very heavy, and my vision was growing dizzy. Fear had set in. All I could do was sit down. When I sat, I saw that the stone ground was very damp, proving my point of the water being stopped. I sat down for about an hour, then finally got  up. My instinct was to go back up, but they could be on the look out of the shop and the surrounding area. I called for Hahn and the both of us went down the long and winding sewer system. Now, I sit here bundled up in a wet blanket I managed to savage. I am just barely able to see with a small glimpse of light coming from far above, most likely from a cover on a road. In the morning, I hope to find an exit out of here. I'm not too far away from  Mr. Apsel?s bookstore, so I could probably manage to get back there through some back alleys. It's a stretch, but I might be able to.








January 3, 1944

I traveled the entire morning through the sewer, and came
across a small trio of men. They all had ripped off Stars of David, and looked rugged, tuff, and ready to get into a fight. Slowly, me and Hahn approached them. The head of the group, Adalgiso, saw us first. I was frightened by the dark haired man, but he told me to come over. Slowly, I walked over to the small area where there was a lit fire, a small sack of food, and a couple cans of recently purified water. Adalgiso asked me why I was down here, and I explained to him my situation. He nodded, then introduced me to the other two men, Dewitt and Garon. Dewitt had short and stubby blonde hair, and seemed to carry everything for the men, since the pack on his back was worn and torn. Garon however, was clean bald, and had the biggest muscles I had ever seen. Both greeted me with heavy Dutch accents. What I saw odd about the trio was that only Adalgiso seemed to not be Jewish. He spoke with a soft French overtone and had bright green eyes and little stubble on his chin. In response to their first question, I asked them the same question. Adalgiso told me their grim tale. He was a native Frenchman, and a captain of the French Army. When they had lost a battle, the Nazis captured him and sewed onto his clothes a Star of David . From there he was put into a concentration camp. At the camp he met Dewitt and Garon, two neighbors who had recently moved to Germany before the war broke out. The Nazi scientists at the camp used Garon as a test dummy, and injected him with steroids and chemicals that made his muscles big, but senses numb. He can barely feel pain, which causes him to be injured and in a constant state of pandemonium. Dewitt had been the one who had planned the escape. While working in a quarry hauling rocks, both Garon and Adalgiso attacked the few guards on duty, while Dewitt unlocked the gate. The two brutes killed the men, stole their weapons, and made their way to the sewers where they stayed for three months. My heart went out to these brave men. They all were so gentle, kind, and nice fellows. I'm writing this as they are all asleep, and my goodness do they snore loud!

PS- I think Adalgiso has taken a liking to Hahn. He fed him some extra scraps after we ate, plus he is always petting him.












January 4, 1944

Dewitt woke up me up very early, maybe four in the morning.
He put his hand over my mouth, and pointed up. Above me I heard loud footsteps, all in unison, and German chants. Next I heard windows breaking and doors being beat down, followed by screams of women and children. After a good ten minutes, the steps faded and my mouth was released. Adalgiso explained to me that the Gestapo had given leads of hidden Jews in the city to the Nazi, and that they were searching the area. I was incredibly scared. Did I  just endanger the lives of many? My body started shaking , but Adalgiso covered me with one of his blankets. After a quick meal, we went on down the sewer.

Walking with the three men was such a good experience.
Garon seemed to be cracking a joke left and right, which always made out sides hurt. Adalgiso would be hitting the wall, creating a light and simple beat, with Dewitt starting to sing a marching song. Te chorus of one of the ones we sang was:

You can throw us up in camps,
Hold us ?till we starve!
But what y? can't take from us,
Is our free born ?earts!

Burn our houses down why don't ye,
Only our mothers will care,
The only way y? gettin? t? me,
Is when y? shootin?  at me dead stare,

You say you?ll rule a thousand years,
HAH! I'd  like t? see y? try,
The only thing you be doin? then?
Is rotting with a bullet in your eye!

Another little ditty we performed was

Call me a Nazi  you may,
One Two, Three Four,
I'll cry to my leader, his petty brain,
One Two, Three Four.

My awful aim none can compare,
One Two, Three Four,
I'll shoot my bullet backwards, through the air,
One Two, Three Four.

We all walk in groups like lil? girl gangs,
One Two, Three Four,
With ?Heil Hitler!? Being the only song we sang,
One Two, Three Four!

When I first met these men, they seemed rough, rude, and dominant. But now, after hearing of they have been through, and seeing their merry ways, it has made see that there is good in everyone, but in certain ways. Such as Mr. Apsel being kind but worryful, or Dewitt being scrawny but bright. I don't really know about myself, but I think I am good in some way. And maybe, I will be able to see that. Now, we are getting ready to go to bed. Hopefully tomorrow we can have another ?Jolly Good Row?.



January 5, 1944

The  Gestapo found us. I don't know how or why, but they
did. We were ambushed in the middle of the night. It may have been the singing, but, I can't tell. They first stabbed Dewitt, whose screams woke us up. Adalgiso told me to run. I only got to grab Hahn and my diary. When I turned to run down another way, three different gunshots went off. One thump echoed  as a ran. It may have been a Gestapo or one of my friends. Either way, I am scared. Scared that they will find me. Scared of the dark sewer with little light. Scared? Just scared?

I plan to keep heading through the sewers. The time must be
around  six in the morning. I'm too awake to go back to sleep, but too tired to keep on going. Oh well, at least I can get away from the area if the Gestapo are still around. It's just, I have this knot in my stomach. Is Mr. Apsel still alive, it is he at a camp? Might he be staying with that Miss Lieselotte? Or what about Dewitt, Garon, or Adalgiso? Who won? Who survived? And what about my parents? Did they escape? Or did they finally get captured? Heck, for all I know, they all could be dead! I can't do it anymore, meeting all of these people just to end up hurting them. It's my fault that Mr. Apsel?s shop was attacked. It's my fault the trio were ambushed. Its, it's, it's just my fault?


January 6, 1944

I reached the end of  the sewer. The wall I am facing is old,
with a clear water marking  of were the water level was a one point. It does however keep going down, left and right. My guess is that I can take either corridor. However, I feel as though this is the end. I have no food, no clean water, and my pen is just about out of ink. So, this will be my last entry in this diary. Since this is the closest I will ever get to writing a book, than I must end it like all others: with a conclusion.

Throughout this journey of about three months, I have
seen and experienced so much. Mr. Apsel opened up a whole to world to me with this diary, giving me the opportunity to open my mind, which for fourteen years has been locked up. He gave me books, he gave me paper, he gave me a pen; this pen. Truly, he let me explore all of the ideas and creativity stored away in my head. Before I met Adalgiso, Dewitt, and Garon, I had a bad taste of friendship. The only one I got along with was Hahn. The three showed me that we are all similar, and have good inside each and every one of us, all in our own way. Heck, even that Miss Lieselotte has shown me that you can't trust people by the way they look. I, I am so thankful  for all of these people. Without them, I would be sick with Typhus in a concentration camp. They have all made me into a better person in a war only getting worse. So, my ink is starting to fade. I will leave my diary here and journey on through the right corridor. Hahn is weak, so I will have to carry him. Anyway, if anyone is to find this, than please, please thank these people for helping me. Tell them, that I would love to have one last ?Jolly Good Row?. Goodbye.






















December 9, 2015

Hello there! My name is Theodore ***, grandson of
Marshall ***.  I am writing in this old diary to explain what happen to my grandfather and those who helped him hide.

After leaving the diary in the sewers, Marshall traveled
through the right sewer. Luckily for him, it led to Switzerland. From there he made it to the nearest town, and found out that Mr. Apsel was staying in a second bookstore owned by his late brother, since his other one was trashed and he was thought to be a criminal due to hiding a Jew.  He went there and met the old man. Both rejoiced, telling about what happened to the old shop and how Marshall had managed in the sewers. Turns out, Miss Lieselotte had secretly given leads to the Gestapo about many Jews living in the area, including my grandfather. She had no clue that Mr. Apsel had gone to Switzerland, so by the end of the war she was arrested and left to rot in prison. Also after the war, on July 17, 1946, Marshall reunited with his parents. Both of them had been caught  very late in the war, since they had fled to Poland. His dad was set to Mathausen, while his mom was sent to Belsen. My grandfather always said she would go on and on about this young girl, a little older than him at the time, who was hopeful during the whole thing. Sadly she died after going into a coma. A few weeks later, both of the camps they were at were liberated, and they got to go back home in search of their son. Today, Marshall resides in a old castle in the north of Scotland. He has become a famous author, and even owns the Mr. Apsel?s Buchhandlung line of bookstores. Mr. Apsel himself lived a long life of 96 years, and is now buried  with Marshall?s parents in a valley close by his original shop.

As for the diary itself, that comes from a different t side of
things. Adalgiso was the one who found the diary. He had just finished  fighting off the Gestapo. Sadly, Dewitt died on the spot by the multiple stab wounds, and Garon gave his life defending Marshall and  Adalgiso. He was shot a total of five times, but managed to throw, crush, and slaughter the seven troops who attacked them that night. Adalgiso had no were to put the bodies, so he lay both to rest at the end wall, where the diary was found. The Frenchman read the past few entries and followed the trail of the young teenager. When he made it Switzerland, he traveled up to Bern to stay with close relatives, but made sure to keep the diary safe. About ten years after the war, while in France, he donated the diary to a museum who was creating an exhibit based on the Jews who went into hiding. Since then, it has stayed there until the grandchild of Adalgiso visited my grandfather  and told him of the merry man?s fate. Since then I have retrieved the diary and was given permission to write one last entry in it. Before I did this however, I let Marshall see it. As he read through, be would talk about how poorly this was written compared to what he does nowadays, laugh and sing the songs he wrote down, and cry when reading about the men who save his life. After he gave it a quick read, he said to me, ?Theodore, listen. This whole event, the war, the Holocasut, all of it, brought great things out of me. I wish for you to take whatever bad situation you may be in, and learn from it. Take those lessons to heart.?  He said those words to me about three months ago, while I was struggling with major confidence issues. I listened to what he said, and applied to Oxford, and got accepted! Now, I sit here with one of Hahn?s great-great-great grandchildren, Walter, in my dorm, about to ship this old thing back to France. I can not truly express how life changing reading it and meeting the people who lived through it really is. It truly is like reading a book. So, to close this off like my grandfather would, I have things to learn, food to eat, books to read, and eyes to rest, but first, let's have a ?Jolly Good Row.?

[close]

[Hickory]

Very nice. On a side note, it's spelled "F?hrer" instead of Furor.

[Gonff the Mousethief]

Yeah, a bunch of stuff got switched around with the broken code. Thank you though!

[Gonff the Mousethief]

Guys!!! I won!!! Three of the four things I entered got 1st place!!! I am so friggin excited! The ones that win were The Wanderer, In the Midst of War, and my essay (Only 6th graders won short story, but I got fourth). Now, all they need to do are win at state, then I go to Nationals again! After the stressful year I have had, this is a relief, and a great one at that. All y'all influenced me when I wrote, so I owe all of you a big thank you.



Here are the entries and Preface:

Okay, so the contest in which I won National's in, started, and I entered a piece into each category! I have them here if you want to read them. Hopefully they can win!

(Will add Diary Project soon)

For If the Light (Updated from Requests thread)

For If the Light

    War is not something one forgets, nor do they want to forget. In war character is built, for better or for worse. Death is the only smell. It reeks and fills the heart and mind of those who have the justice of good inside of them. Blood is the paint which walls and bodies bear. Screams are the equivalent of bird song to those who have the heart of a lion and the mind of a hawk. They do not fight for us, themselves, or any other. They fight to defeat evil, and let the good prevail. Good that will not go away, only fade. For a light with oil, no matter how much, will always burn.


    From the wall I saw it happen. Our leader, who had led our small army of two hundred against the side forces of Lord Velrgrip's, was held hostage by one of Velgrip's commanders, Rylit. All of our men were slain, except General Gilaphad and I. My body was sorely wounded, taking two arrow shots to my right leg and one to my left shoulder. Everything had gone black when I was hit, but now I was awake, and in excruciating pain with a great amount of blood lost. My mouth was sealed, for if I cried out, my fate would be sealed. While my pain unfolded, my attention was on my commander. How sorrowful and dead he looked. No life sprang from his eyes. No more joy was in his smile, or justice in his expression. All that was left was, well, nothing. He had no where to go, no more time left to live or anything left to live for. His decision to take on this army was a mistake, leading his men to an un-escapable doom. We were the meat at the butcher's hands. But now, driven down to his knees, with a sword pointed to his neck, the great captain and leader was just a simple hostage, only good for information.
"Tell us of the plans which the Royal House Navy possesses oh great 'Gilaphad'," sneered a loony voice. A dark, solitary mumble came from the broken man. "Rylit, I swore to nev-" "Oh yes, you swore this, and you swore that, I know, I know, but either you tell me, or I take your life!" Following his statement, the mindless general laughed, creating an echo in the small outer area of the fort's grounds.
"Take it then. My duty is my duty." "Fine with me! You are, well, already dead anyway! What would be your last words, oh mighty general?" Gilaphad looked up into his enemy's soulless, dark eyes. "The Light which stands for all good and right in this world will never go out. The Darkness which consumes you Rylit, is evil and cunning, tearing away at your soul. It will go out. Darkness is just the absence of Light; and when that Light shines, using the blood of these fallen men as oil, all of the Darkness will wither away. Just. Like. You."


    Hot blood sprayed on the crazed general as the thump of a body and sword falling to the ground sounded. His deranged eyes looked down at his victim. He pulled his sword out of the valiant man's neck and wiped the sticky substance off with his overcoat. "Ok men, head to Ebington! We will breach the walls, just like this dump." And with that, he walked out of the small fort's walls and down the gravel path, taking no heed to what his foe had uttered to him only moments before.


After years of conquest and plunder, both Lord Velgrip and General Rylit were defeated by the Royal House Navy, which had used the old battle plans and war logic written by the late General Gilaphad. Today a statue of him stands at the remains of the fort in which he died. A small plaque under it reads: Darkness is the absence of Light, and no matter how much oil, the Light will always burn.

[close]

The Wanderer

Notice: I wrote this poem based on my feelings. I never can really stay with friends or places very long, and sometimes I come to except that I don't necessarily need to. The "Wanderer" in the poem is a reflection of me. He starts out in pity of his calling, but in the end comes to terms with it and excepts it. He sees that everything has its place, and usually that means they are together, but he isn't, and that is okay. Its a truth that I need to see. The "Wanderer" is also based on the quote of Tolkien's ,"Not All those who Wander are Lost", one of my favorite quotes. Kinda an homage in that way as well.


The Wanderer

I am a wanderer, set upon the course of time,
My desolate path bends each and every way,
Alone from the start, alone to the end,
Passing by, leaving before a welcomed stay.

The grass dances in its own unison,
Feeling the beat and warmth of the wind's tune,
It turns a blind eye from its own joy and song,
But I am a wanderer, not knowing if happiness is soon.

The mountains form in their army line,
Regimented by their willingness as a pack,
Joined each by another, a system of militant range,
But I am a wanderer, knowing not of the love on my back.

The sun and moon wrestle, siblings 'til the very end,
Wanting it all too much day, or never enough night,
Their argument ends when the shadows travel East,
But I am a wanderer, with no family in sight.

The clouds, they sail, on the seas of endless blue,
Never reaching a destination, sails lifted high and flung to the breeze,
With granted hope, together they may sail t'wards port,
But I am a wanderer, with a journey that never will cease.

The night, it hushes, with the tingling of sounds,
Wishing these broad bodies a place to rest on earth's bed,
The stars connect, auras pertaining to perfect peace,
But I am a wanderer, with a trail still far ahead.

I will travel over fold over,
To places no one here can ever tell,
I wish you off safe, I wish you off right,
For I am the Wanderer, with the path of adventure that never will quell.

[close]

The Midst of War

The Midst of War

Past these five Aprils,
I've worn the winds of war,
Slaying my own brethren,
Fighting through the squall of blood.

I don't feel like a knight,
Or an honorable man,
I go deaf to the screams,
And suffocate in the smell of death.

What is it for?!
Hills dewed with red poison,
The feel of such treachery,
And utter hopelessness.

But I trudge on,
Living on just hollow bread,
Wounds reside upon my body,
The bandages have changed me.

I long for the end,
To feel Freedom's warm hands,
But for the stars and stripes on the forerunner's flag,
I charge into the battlefield fray.

[close]

I also have an essay I wrote, but that deals with science and religion, so PM me if you want to read that (Also it gets kind of boring)



Anyway, I hope those of you who read enjoy it! It means so much that you would see what I concocted, so thank you to the moon and back in advance!


- PoM, the Poet

[Skyblade]

CONGRATS GONFF!!

[Mhera]

GONFF! That is awesome, congratulations!

[Gonff the Mousethief]

Thank you too so very much! Getting a word or more in full caps from you two is a very achievement by itself!

[Hickory]

[Gonff the Mousethief]

Amazing gif Sage! Thanks you so very much!