My, my, my, it's been a while; I hope I'm not too rusty. Compared to Halloweens past, this one is rather striking, isn't it?


((For more, please check out the Seed's Poetry Corner Index

[=darkgreen]
I'm still not entirely sure what to think of Walter's...reincarnation? new form? after-after-after-after-after-life? Regardless, all I can hope is this one will be better than the last, and if there's anything I can do to help guide him well, towards the best he might be, and away from his demons, then I'd do it and gladly.
Today, though, it was just frolicking in the ruins -- at times resting, at times playing with a few other fawns, like Jojo (she introduced herself to me, so I made special note of her) who'd gathered around him. He seems so hesitant and small; I just want to pinch his little cheeks and protect him! Aaaaah! It's too much! I tried to teach him to dance, but he wasn't having it -- too soon? Well, he'll learn it one day. It was just good fun, and I was glad to see it; I suppose the Walter I knew never had the chance for any of that, and I think perhaps -- just perhaps -- the path out of hatred begins there, with days like these, peaceful and bright and cheerful, with the sleepy scent of poppies in the air and the bounding laughter of fawns, the bright golden whir of magic. There might have to be big moments -- there will always be big moments -- but they will live or die on these little ones. I believe in that, in heavens found in wildflowers.


And as interesting as that was, I wanted to write about something that happened between that. Cian, a recent patron of mine, came to me suddenly in the midst of this play, asking urgently for me to follow him. I didn't exactly understand his purpose at first,but he was insistent that I come. And so, with a worried glance over my shoulder at the fawns (well, they'd be fine; I'd almost never had proper supervision as a fawn and I'd turned into a loving, if useless and deeply neurotic adult), I followed him to a likely-looking flower patch, where waited a doe.

[=darkgreen]

I encountered Honeyfur and Phobos again today; I've mainly met Phobos through her, so I can't say I know him well, but I hope our acquaitance will continue nicely, and deepen well. For a time, we sat in peace and quiet in the First Forest, enjoying the solitude. I made some resolutions to be more visible, and to shake off the shyness plaguing me lately, if I could manage it.
And also, to attend to my obligations, which I've been neglecting horribly.
Like these diary entries.
Well, my sighs will improve nothing.

Eventually, restless spirits rose to the forefront, and Honeyfur and I began to play about. At first, Phobos remained cemented in his own thoughts, and would not budge, but eventually sprang to life.
After a while, I began running a sort of obstacle course through a likely-looking string of mushroom-bearing trees, just tight enough to weave back and forth through them while hopping. After a while, I noticed Phobos was playing the same game I was, alternating which side of the tree he crossed with each tree. I was pleased to see it, because it's not something I see other people do: make obstacle courses with rules, I mean.
A fawn joined us, and we began picking up the pace. I soon found I had to slow down to turn in time to cross the small gaps between the trees, using skids to control my turns while keeping the momentum up...
It was a difficult enough task that I didn't notice when everyone else scampered elsewhere while I was circling, and had to hurry and catch up.

And then we came to play at the logs at the base of that mushroom circle'd hill, down by the ruins.
Seen from almost any angle, those logs are the same to me as to any other: a place to root around for mushrooms, a place to sit and laugh, a hurdle to clear in a single leap...

But from one angle, just one... It remains the last place I saw my first love, a warmly-scented place, steeped in memory.

I was born, 6 years ago, not long after a Carnival much like this, and with confetti in the air...How nostalgic.

I'm not normally the sort of person to write a poem like this, but...Well. Perhaps just this once.



((For more poems by Seed, check out Seed's Poetry Corner))

That's right! I nearly forgot since I've been busy the past few days, but... It seems that Seed's another year older! I've been playing TEF for 6 years now, and I'm hoping for another good year in 2014!

I love Valentines Day, so let's have a couple of poems I wrote while wandering.



((Want to read more and get notified when there's more poems? Check Seed's Poetry Corner))

So, I've been thinking that, with the new pictogram generation around the corner, there will probably be a good many new characters dawning. And, under such an atmosphere, there'd be no better time to try and revive and find some company for some of my older characters I've abandoned. So I thought I'd see who people would be most interested in seeing (possibly again).
For many of them, this would involve some sort of reboot, soft or hard depending on the circumstances, but...It likely wouldn't be too hard to manage. Our candidates are...

Faris A self-styled old-fashioned knight, self-proclaimed preux chevalier of the forest. Enthusiastic when confronted with battle, tries to be gentlemanly but is hot-blooded. Loves competition and sparring, and views his opponents as like brothers. Or sisters. He's not 100% sure about that part.

The Witch She may or may not have a name, but she's a vain, efotistical, megalomaniacal deer who specializes in shape-shifting spells and various pranking spellcasting. She views herself as a great evil witch, but... Given how easy it is to clear up magic in the forest, she's really more of a vague pest. This drives her nuts. Enthusiastic but easily frustrated, wearing her emotions of her sleeve.

Nimbus A cloud sort of 'possessing' a deer body, Nimbus is unfocused and has trouble emoting. He doesn't understand many aspects of fleshy life, but N's stuck with them. N's got sort of a weirdo perspective, going off on odd tangents and approaching things from strange angles. Nimbus likes flying around and following people.

Hyacinth Honestly, I don't like much of Hyacinth's original premise anymore, though some parts of it are still kind of interesting. A sort of "damaged innocent" character, much of her backstory will be thrown out or re-written to suit my feelings, so it's hard to say how she'll end up exactly. Probably sweet and jittery, though.

The poet is restless these days: hungry for inspiration that seems a little thin on the ground in his personal life. Maybe he's just looking for some inspiration, some audience.

And maybe you're bored or troubled, and want something to distract or comfort you, like a story like you might have heard when you were little. Maybe you have something you want to say -- to a special someone, perhaps? Or maybe even you just want to hear something about you.

Well, maybe he can help you if you can help him. All Seed needs is a little inspiration: a theme, a topic, a request, and he'll compose something for you.
Now, our poet sits under the bridge, just above the water line, and ponders... And waits for you to come and ask some "pretty words" of him.

The poem is the explanation for the poem, I think; Only stopping to note that this has been on my mind.
A note from a later date: I suppose I should at least give some context, for a reader besides myself. As Sage, my love, is so often away, I've tried my hoof at writing letters to her, and she seems most fond of the notion. And so...



((More of Seed's poetry can, logically enough, be found through the Seed's Poetry Corner Collection))