How did I not see this until today? I LOVE this kind of thing! I'm in for a $5.99 GOG game, please :D

I wrote this in the summer of '97 or '98, as a letter to my eldest to read when she was older:

Just Bein' Mom
by genkicoll

Awake at six
Every day
I want to sleep
You want to play

I do the laundry
Fold and sort
You throw it all
Out on the floor

Time for dishes
Clean and dry
The dishwasher's open
You climb inside

Let's scrub the floor
Away with the crud
And here you come
Feet caked with mud

It's time for lunch
What a feast!
I can't believe it!
How much can you eat?

It's naptime now
I like it best
When you actually sleep
So I can rest

Not today!
You just sit and cry
For an hour or more
You want outside

If I lay down with you
Will you please go to sleep?
Oh, sure Mommy!
But you won't let it be

You just lay there and talk
And bounce on my head
Please leave me alone
Can't you see that I'm dead?

Being a mother
Can really be trying
I need some ice cream
Guess what, Dad, you're buying

Daddy will watch
Baby and you, both
While I get out of the house
The store's pretty close

I feel better now
I needed a break
The baby is hungry (of course!)
My timing is great

The baby will sleep now
I'd like to, too
I shouldn't even think it
Not in this zoo

A zoo with one monkey
One baby, and me
Of course, then there's Daddy
Big happy family

I actually mean that
though I get tired and cross
I love my little family
But it's tough being boss

You have so much energy
It never desists
But your big, joyful smile
I just can't resist

Let's play for now
While my energy lasts
You're getting hard to pick up
You're growing so fast!

I chase you down the hall
You jump on my back
We wrestle, we tickle
We laugh 'till we can't

Come on, Mommy!
Let's do A-B-C's
OK, are you ready?
Mommy, let's read!

What an odd child
You're smart for just three
But, you know, that's OK
'Cause you take after me

Hey, I've already read
This book twice!
Let's read it again, Mommy
That would be nice

The same book six times
I'm tired of this
Time for bed now
Come give me a kiss

I don't wanna go to bed
No, Mommy, no!
Get off of the floor, dear
I said, time to go

I lay down beside you
It helps get you to sleep
It only takes half an hour
It feels like a week

It's been a long day
I'm about to collapse
But before I do that
Baby wants a snack

The house finally quiet
Everybody asleep
Well, really, not quite
Everybody but me

I just sit in the dark
A rare moment alone
I think about tomorrow
and stifle a groan

Today was Sunday
My weekend is gone!
But I'll survive tomorrow
Because I am Mom ♥

In for the GOG game.
For the poem below I blame both playing Diablo and listening to Summoning.

_______________________________


do not enter this evil plane
where even angels fear to tread
amongst the plains of blood and halls of bones
you'll see the shades of those long lost

your path to heaven leads through hell
no mortal man has ever ventured there
and returned to the blessed light
here you are forever bound

the cursed creatures of the night
will never abondon their wicked hunt
they will catch you and drain you whole
until your eyes will see no more

your soul, whithered and currupted
shriek amongst the rotten bodies
there's no hope in devil's lair
as you learn the meaning of true pain

the shades are longer, the night is deeper
you fear becomes even more tangible
the gates are closed, the path is sealed
what new nightmare will tomorrow bring?

_______________________________


Of course, the poem is all mine :)

I am in for a Bard's Tale, as I have been eyeing it for a while and it fits with the theme. I will use a throwback from my younger days, and write the lyrics to my "rendition" of Summertime. I hope it counts.

Summertime, and the livin' is hazy,
Fish are drunken,
And the people are high,
Oh your daddy's a pimp,
And your mama's a skank,
So hush little drug lord,
Don't you OD.

One of these days,
You'll hit on the lamp post,
And you'll show it the bed,
And you'll break your Netherlands,
But 'till that day comes,
It'll be in high demand,
With all of your cash,
Blown on skanks.

This was to be repeated twice to fit with the actual song. I was a twisted little fifth grader wasn't I?

I'm in for the $ 5.99 GOG game.
And here is a short story I wrote:

Soul of a Poet

When Kyle arrived at his grandmother’s cottage at the other side of the village the old woman was already waiting for him at the door.
“You’re late! Now come on in and hurry up. We don’t have all day as you should know!” she screeched and shook her cane at him.
Kyle knew that he WAS a little late as he had taken the way through the woods watching the last fairies and imps gather supplies for the winter instead of just crossing through the village. But when everybody was only thinking about his brother anyway he didn’t see why he should hurry to do stuff for them. Nevertheless he mumbled “Sorry, Nan” and scampered inside avoiding her cane.

Nan followed him inside, let herself fall on her favourite chair, the one with the most carvings possible on a chair while still be useable as piece of seating furniture, thumbed the floor twice with her cane and then spit out her orders in fast progression “First you need to chop some more wood, Carl, the neighbor, said that I have enough for two winters but I feel it in my bones that this will be a hard one so I want more and when he has to chop and dry wood in the middle of the winter he’ll see that I was right – hah!-, then I want you to hang up the thick wool curtains, and then fetch some water for the big basin in the kitchen and then I want you to dust in here, oh, and of course you need to beat the dust out of the curtains and… that’s it. Then we hurry to give your brother a warm welcome. Your mother has prepared a feast I shall think.”

Kyle hurried outside and chopped some wood at a leisurely pace. Then he carried water from the well into the kitchen and noticed with some satisfaction that the kitchen was very neat and clean. So the family of brownies he had tried to get to move into Nan’s cottage had finally taken to the place! And as Nan was old fashioned and always put a saucer of milk out for the little folk the brownies would surely stay. Just a pity that he wouldn’t be able to tell anybody what he had done, but that’s brownies for you, they leave when you tell people about them. Kyle sighed and went to get the heavy old wool curtains out of their trunk to hang them up in the living room.
Nan watched him closely from her chair, squinting in the weak light. “Your brother, he’s so talented” she told him when she apparently didn’t find any fault in what he was doing and therefore couldn’t reprimand him. “He is one of the youngest students ever to wear the red robe of a magician. Do you hear me?” “Yes, Nan.” “You should be proud of him as well.” “Yes, Nan.” “And happy that he has time to visit us before he goes into winter confinement.” “Yes, Nan.” Kyle started to dust the room and blocked out Nan’s voice going on about his oh so wonderful brother. “…talented young man.” “Yes, Nan.” “…will go far in life.” “Yes, Nan.“ “…can read and write in several languages!” “Yes, Nan.” “…has the soul of a poet!” “Yes, Nan.” “You are not even listening.” “Yes, Nan.”
Her cane hit him at the small of his back. “As you’re not listening and have been dusting the same spot for some time now I think it is time for us to go and help you mother.” “Yes, N…” She gave him a sharp look and he decided to better help her get up from her chair without saying anything.

They crossed through the village and it took quite some time as Nan would loudly greet and stop any person she saw on the street. “Greetings, neighbor! Brian in his red robe is coming home to visit today. There will be a feast! Maybe you wan
t to come by.” And while Kyle tried to look as bored as possible, and as a lanky teenager it was very possible for him, Nan told the same things all over again. “Yes, red robe … talented young man … soul of a poet.” After the sixth time Kyle could have spoken along with her.
Finally they reached the house and the rest of the day was just a busy blur for Kyle. Food was prepared, even some of the good bacon that was dried for winter was brought down from the attic, Brian arrived with a shy smile and an impressive leather bag with bronze buckles, there was much cheering and more talking and then everybody stuffed their bellies.

Late in the evening when the smaller children were already asleep on their mothers’ laps everybody gathered at the big fire place in the main room and warmed their hands and cups of ale at the fire and the talk slowly died down. Into the comfortable silence Brian’s well modulated voice said “It’s late but there is still time for one story, right?” And he got up and stood next to the fire place his cup of ale still in one hand. Mothers shook their children awake and a whispered mumble went through the room “so talented … soul of a poet”.
“Yes, Brian, a story, if you please” Nan said.
Brian emptied his cup, handed it to his mother, opened his bag and took out a big jar made of clear glass. He held it high in his hand so that everybody could see it. Then he touched it with the index finger of his other hand and spoke a single word that rolled through the room like low thunder.
In the glass a faint mist began to glow and the trapped soul of a poet began to tell a story.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GMQBJSaT5gk

My friends doing a great version of a song I wrote.

Oh, I've seen it too late (actually just now), otherwise I might have contributed something with my Hurdy-Gurdy, would have been fitting.
You need more time for stuff like this or there always will be very few competitors. How many have you gathered in this short period of time?

More creative stuff like that (especcially handmade/sung music) from this community would be great.

Open til the 15th. Today is the 13th

Depends on which half of the planet your on.

Here is my entry:

JP's nightmare in the warehouse

https://onedrive.live.com/redir?resid=E87946283794C59A!1600&authkey=!AGRNlzgxrsACl1A&ithint=file%2c.mp3

Which is a twist on JP Lullaby

https://soundcloud.com/search?q=JP%20Lullaby

When taking the Intro to Guitar course I practiced JP Lullaby over and over and over again, then, to cleanse the lullaby out of my brain I had to twist it into a "cheesy horror" version...

<Edit: I already got Populous at the summer sale>

I had a bunch of fun goofy songs when I played NWN as a bard forever (for anyone who played on City of Arabel ages ago, I was "Wilin Unders the Bard.") But I don't think I still have any of those.

Here's a short story that's slowly being transformed into a novel (currently on hiatus for Persistent Dawn and another revision of The Darkest Wand):

Mr. Murphy’s Attic

My parents suck. I smashed up Mr. Murphy’s old ratty mailbox. My punishment is dusting the old fart’s entire house while he sits outside. He always sits outside. He’s so old he can’t really move. But he has a pile of stones he throws at us kids when we happen across his yard while playing tag or football.

‘Get off her!’ he yells and then ZING! They really hurt.

Mr. Murphy hasn’t gotten what he deserves yet. I’ll smash more than that old mailbox. I wonder what he’s got in his attic.

I climb the stairs and open the creaky old door to the attic. It’s dark with only a sliver of light shining through a vent. But it’s enough to see that he’s got four stone pedestals sitting in a circle. Each has something on it: a clump of old red crap that looks like it might have been flower petals in another life, an old yellowed piece of paper, a silver ring and a glass bottle.

He must really love this stuff.

To start, I figure I can tear up that precious paper. As soon as I touch the paper, I’m jerked back and the room fills with light. Suddenly, I see my dad. But he’s not my dad. But I know he’s my dad.

“You know, Murphy comes from your grandparent’s name Murchadha which means ‘Sea Warrior.’ You were meant to be in the Navy. Give those Nazi’s hell.”

I drop – no – I throw down the draft notice and the room fills with darkness again.

My eyes are adjusting to the dim light when I stumble into a pedestal. My hand smacks into the pile of rose dust. Again the room fills with light and the dust forms up into a living rose in my hand. And I’m giving it to a beautiful girl. She’s smiling at me and I love her. I didn’t even realize I could love someone this much, but I do.

She’s wearing funny clothes, but I don’t care. I could stay in this moment forever. I’m so in love.

But then the room darkens again and the rose flings out of my hand and explodes into a cloud of fine dust.

Desperate for more of that feeling, I reach for the silver ring. Suddenly, I’m putting the ring on her hand. She’s older than before and I’m in uniform.

A priest beside me speaks. “May I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Adam Murphy.”

A roar of cheering fills the hall and my lovely bride and I run down the aisle. I see a table filled with gifts and my mailbox is there, nestled beside some boxes wrapped in white.

I turn to look at the mailbox, but I lose connection with the ring on the pedestal and I swing up against the glass bottle.

For a moment, everything zips in fast forward. The bottle is filled with pills and I’m giving them to my young wife. She’s in bed. And the sun goes up and comes down dozens of times and the bottle gets emptied. And she gets skinnier. And paler. And then, holding the empty bottle, I’m standing in my front yard. The priest now stands in front of a hole. And men lower my bride.

Suddenly, the door flies open. “Out!” Mr. Murphy roars. “Get out!”

Afraid for my life and stricken with the most intense sorrow I’ve ever felt, I sprint home. And I vow to save my allowance to fix up Mr. Murphy’s old mailbox.


(edit: in for Bard's Tale)

Well, I need more than a day to write a decent song and learn to play it decently and got a lot going on this weekend. ;)

B u m p... ♬

Posting something soon, have to pull it up and post it. Will be up soon I promise!

The only poem I wrote that I ever really like was in high school. My English teacher lost it and I never got the words back.
In for the $5.99 GOG game

Now my journey ends
I rest beneath liquid sky
Down deep where the whale bones lie
I held it in my heart

Even the now I dream
For someone to hear my plight
But I no longer see the light
The hempen rope has crossed my eyes

I promised I'd come home
Never more to leave your side
My stars my life
I promised you a ring
Hope I hold you still