There, in a castle very far away there lived a wicked King-
He kidnapped me and held me for the ransom of a magical ring.

Only one possessed this jewel and his name was Chris-
But he vowed to come and save me though this ring was his bliss.

At night I'd cry and beg the gods to hear
So Christopher would never have to come 'here'.

But they did not listen, they gird him instead-
With mighty, shinny armour and this is what they said:

"Go to her Sir Christopher, your maiden awaits
And if you are not careful, you will be too late,
For the Ruler that holds her has no mercy, no grace
He'd just as soon kill her and then spit in your face.

So, Sir Christopher mounted his white horse and fled into the night-
He had to find his Lady Melissa to make everything alright.
"Hurry!" he shouted from the top of his voice
As he rode fast the horse he'd been given by the 'gods' choice.

The moon was shinning brightly, And I shall never forget
How I looked and saw him racing toward me in the garden moon lit.
He was so handsome, his face shone as the sun-
As he called to me, "Come Lady Melissa, you and I shall run!"

And run we did through grass shoulder high,
Through briars and bushes and feilds of rhy...
Soon we stopped and caught our breath
And we two became one and called our son "Seth".

Now the Wicked King is no more... his castle faded away
For my Knight in shinning armour taught him how to play...

He taught him the magic of what love can truly do
And now the castle is bright in color and never again blue.

Sir Christopher brought unity and with it true Love...
For you see, My dear Knight is actually a Light from Above.

Those that look upon him don't really see
All that he is inside to little maidens like me.
He is gentle, strong and very kind
He is the one every maiden wishes he would find...

Know now that Sir Christopher is busy and now he must again ride
To find other damsels in distress and other evil Kings that hide.

I love him, as many other's do...
Chris, if you read this, it's from my heart especially for YOU.

The REAL you.

"Do you really know me?" he asked with his eyes sparkling wide...
"Of course I do darling." was my humble reply.

You can say :

I hurt....

You can say it's someone else's fault-

But, that would not be right.

It would simply be an illusion that you, yourself had created.


Yes, you do feel 'hurt'

....but it's not your fault.

And, it's not anyone else�s fault either.

One must remember that the Creator's ways are not your ways. Your understanding is not yet complete.

Hurt. It's a gift. It's an emotion belonging in a category all it's own. It is a very well hidden gift for you see.... Hurt will not show his face before sending before him the brother known as Anger and even sometimes a stronger brother known as Bitterness.

You must come to realize these emotions are the brothers to the polar emotions of their sisters known as 'Happiness' , 'Forgiveness' and "Un-Conditional Love'.

Come to know this one called "Hurt" as a blessing for without him, you would have never met your sister called Happiness and likewise, if you knew no anger, you could never know the goodness of "Forgiveness'.

Let us not forget the fruit of our purpose here in 'this' life which is to become like the Annoited Christ. Walk in UN-conditional LOVE....for only in this type of agape love can we ever hope to free our brother known as Bitterness.

~May the Light of LOVE Prevail and may we be reminded of Michael, the great Arch Angel of sword�s. May we remember our gift of 'words' as the gift of a two edged sword. Remembering to walk in 'balance'.~

March 5, 2004

I know you won't believe it, but this story is true
It's all about Aliens and their relationship to you.

Long, long ago there lived a group of people-
Nothing could stop them, not governments, not a steeple.

Knowledge increased, they became as gods-
Forgetting the holy place where Angels do trod.

With their labs and mice behind closed doors
They cracked a code and opened hells floors.

In a little tube a new baby would grow-
They would watch him, record him - where ere he may go.

Soon they created others, but would leave them all behind-
Whilst they took to the heavens to be with their own kind.

Yes, far, far away they would live and observe
Their tiny creations made without any reserve.

Oh, but do not worry... do not fret!
They didn't leave you alone lest they themselves forget.

So- every so often in the dark of the sky
They come to visit and now you know why.

It�s enough to make you tremble,
It�s enough to make you shake
Knowing our Mighty one Creator they did forsake....
We must not worry though; it will be fine-

For in the end, all will be remembered
...in God's mind.

SAY NO TO CLONING
Yua'Hannah Wind
copyright July 2001
memphis,tn.
* I write under this name as a 'pen ghost name sometimes'

How can you make something out of nothing?
And, what is something when there is nothing?
So many questions to ponder the mind -
My thoughts move ahead leaving my body behind.
Something is nothing when you stop to consider
This world is but an illusion with it�s passion and glitter.
How can you make something out of nothing
When nothing is EVERYTHING?

What Am I?

I have been here from the beginning
Of this earth you now see-
And though I am ruled by men
I was meant to be free.

Without me- All would surely die,
Yet none seem to notice the tears when I cry.

Men beat upon me
and saw me asunder-
They use my body
to behold the pride of their wonder.

One day;
When they least expect it to be so-
They will cry for me and ask,
"Where did she go?"

And even then,
though they die too-
Many still won't understand
the majesty of a few.

I am the one
that when Christ called me....
He simply said,
"Come Forth Little Tree."

copyright Donna Yua'Hannah Adams 2001
Blessings from the crying wind of Yua'Hannah

If I do not want what you want, please try not to tell me that my want is wrong.

Or if I believe other then you, at least pause before you correct my view.

Or, if my emotion is less than yours, or more, given the same circumstances, try not to ask me to feel more strongly or weakly.

Or yet, if I act, or fail to act, in a manner of your design for action
let me be.

I do not, for the moment at least, ask you to understand me.

That will come only when you are willing to give up changing me into a copy of you.

I may be your spouse, your parent, your offspring, your friend, or your colleague.

If you will allow me any of my own wants, or emotions, or beliefs,
or actions, then you open yourself, so that some day these ways of mine might not seem so wrong, and might finally appear to you as right...for me.

To put up with me is the first step to understanding me. Not that you embrace my ways as right for you, but that you are no longer irritated or disappointed with me for my seeming waywardness.

And in understanding me you might come to prize my differences from you, and, far from seeking to change me, preserve and even nurture those differences.

If I am not worth this, then let me be as if you never knew me...for in TRUE reality, you didn�t.

*borrowed this from a close friend.

Okay. We can see that you're very artsy. That's all well and good. The question of the hour is ,"Why are you here?"

This is, after all, the Final Fantasy Shrine. Thus far, you've shown no desire to talk about anything Final Fantasy-related, or even game-related. Are you just here to show off your writing? If so, you've come to the wrong place entirely.

People here will ridicule you mercilessly, shredding your works with well-practiced methods of criticism and taunting your foolishness for thinking that we'll drop our everyday discussions and take the time to see you flaunt the fruits of your mind. And then, after you're gone, we'll continue to belittle you. You will live on in our memories as a subject of ire and a reminder of the price of vanity in this hostile environment.


But if I'm wrong and you are here to fit in with the rest of us, join our discussions, and be a part of our little community, then feel free to ignore everything I've posted above. Just remember that you will still be ruthlessly taunted, albeit in a friendlier manner.

*this is written in the style of my pen name of "Miss Sippy Tawker"
It is written in my southern accent. In other words, it reads just like I 'tawk'..(ie: talk)


Whelp yawl, I jest got done watchin another one a them thar Hollywood movies whar they make Missippy look like we all jest hate black folks so bad we wanna kill 'em all.

It's a dang shame that anytime Missippy is used in a movie or story line or a county person is mocked, we are percieved as a bunch of silly hillbillys that ain't got nare lick a sense. Jest cause we might tawk a little funny and like to hunt, fish, swap stories and such don't mean we are stupid and I can tell yen's right now that ain't all of us haters of black folks.

I'd like to thank that not all black folks hate us white folks neither. Some of us realize we jest cain't help what happened in history. We are stuck in tha here and now. All we can do is try to make it better fer our childrenz, ye know?

Anyhow, this here got me to rememberin about a time one of our neighbors named Miss Clare used to tawk bad about black folks. To be honest, when I was a little girl, thar was serveral of tha older folks that would call a black person the "N" word. That used to make my Mama and Mammaw so mad! To them, that was like saying a bad cuss word. So was usin tha word liar or sayin "Shut up" to somebody.

My Mama tried to raise us kids to never see color, money or a persons gender when it come to a human bein.

Anyhow, Miss Clare used to be real bad about sayin the "N" word when she was referrin to a person of color, even in front of us kids. One day she come in from town and was tellin my Mama about how this "N" woman had on a real perdy dress an she was thankin about maybe makin her a dress out of tha same material ifn she could maybe find some like it somewhar. Homecomin was gonna be comin up tha next Sunday at Church and she wanted a dress like one that "N" had on.

My Mama stopped her and asked her not to use that "N" word, especially around us youngun's. Miss Clare jest kept right on tawkin, like she didn't even hear my Mama. I noticed Mama and Mammaw both jest look at one another and kindly roll their eyeballs. Neither one of them said nothin else. They jest let Miss Clare keep on tawkin, but they made me leave tha room so's not to hear her no more.

The Hatchie Church Homecomin was a big deal ever year fer all of us that lived down in the holler. It was a time kindly like a big giant reunion cause you got to see folks you ain't seen all year long. Some folks you got to see you may not have seen in years even!

We would have a little service, then a bunch of tha women folks would put foods of ever kind you could thank of on tables tha men folks had lined up outside under shade trees and we'd all eat till we was nearly sick.

Then, gospel sangers and other groups would pick banjo's, guitars and stuff all evenin long while family and friends walked around tha graveyard we had been workin on all week cleanin an decoratin. We'd visit and tell the little kids that had gotten big enough to understand who was who by the tombstones. It was considered a mighty grand thang to learn who yer great granny or granpappy was an stuff like that.

Hatchie was so fer back in tha woods you didn't see many city folk. Everbody knew everbody else. You never seen no police. T'wernt never no need fer no police. Everbody took care of their own, and to be honest, them thar police fellers was probably sceered to come down to Hatchie unless they was called out on purpose. Hatchie folks didn't take kindly to strangers. Too many bootlaggers down in our neck of tha woods to be welcoming tha police!

Black folks was unheard of coming down thar. They had their place and we had ours. Course we all played in school together, but none of us even thought about askin to spend tha night or go over to each others house. Nothin like that. We jest sorta knew whar we had to draw tha line to keep tha peace.
Miss Clare used to boast all tha time about her "Southern bloodline" of George's. Said that the George family was one of the most respected of all Hatchie's families. Land sakes alive yawl. I bet if I heard that story one time at the Hatchie Homecomin, I've had to hear it a hundred. This year t'wernt gone be no different. I could see that already!

We had all jest got our plates of food and set down when Miss Clare started in tawkin to Mama, Mammaw an some more of the women folk. Me an my cousin's Debbie Jo, Tammy Lynn and Bobbie Faye jest set thar eatin and listenen as Miss Clare went on braggin about how royal her blood was. (Like we cared or somethan...)

As we set thar eatin and listenin' to her tawk, couldn't help but notice this car come pullin up in tha church drive way. I recon it got everbody's attention cause Miss Clare quit braggin long enough to git a gander at it too. Then I heard her say, "Rachel? Naw. That ain't Rachel. Cain't be."

We thought Miss Clare was gonna jest kill over plum dead yawl! Heck, she was probably seventy years old when this happened, and she had not seen her grandaughter in pert near ten years. Rachel had left after she and Miss Clare had some kind a bad argument is what I heard.

Seems Miss Rachel got pregnant out of wedlock and Miss Clare had all but disowned her. Now, here she was to surprise her Grandmama, and surprise her she did. In more ways than one I might add.

She shore was a perdy woman steppin outta that thar car. I was only bout twelve an I can remember it like it was yesterdey. She looked like some kinda movie star or somethan with tha blue an white dress she had on. She had her hair all done up and a pair of them sunglasses on.

Miss Clare got up and started runnin best she could toward her. Heck! We was all excited, so we left our plates of food an took off runnin with her. Rachel seen her Granny comin and they grabbed hold to one anuther and jest hugged and kissed all over one another. It shore was some site to see. It'd a made a grown man cry.

Then tha back door on that car Miss Rachel drove up in opened up and out stepped one of the perdest little black girls you ever layed your eyes on! She looked to be about nine years old or so, and she jest stood thar lookin around like a sceered little puppy. You could hear folks stop a breathin an some of tha women looked like they was gonna faint or somethan.

Miss Rachel turned around then and went back to take the little girl by her hand led her to Miss Clare, "Granmamma, I want you to meet Eve."

Miss Clare jest stood thar in obvious shock fer a minute. Everbody was deathly quiet as the little girl reached out her small light brown hand and touched Miss Clare's old wrinkled white one and said in a little timid voice, "Hello Grandmama."

Tears whelled up in Miss Clare's eyes. I looked at my Mama for a some kinda sign ta let me know I could satisfy my itch fer playin. She winked and I took it as the "ok" I was hoping fer.
I walked over to Eve and said, "Howdy thar. My name is Donna Jean. You wanna come play with me?"

Eve has been my friend now fer over twenty somethan years. Tawk about some fun! Gosh Dawg! We've sure shared some secrets and fun times.

I've seen poor Eve sure suffer a lot fer bein born two different colors though. I don't thank I'll ever understand that fer as long as I live, but my Mama and Grandma says that is jest tha way thangs is in this world, and ain't no sense in tryin to figure it all out cause God will take care of it. Best thang to do is jest try to love folks and hope they love ye back.

I met a bunch of good friends through Eve. One is named Tameeka and we got another one we call Pookie jest cause she is so crazy with her fun self. She is always makin jokes. Neither one of them seem to have a serious bone in their body. Maybe one a these days I'll tell yawl a story about them!

Black folks still don't like goin to Hatchie. I don't know if tha reasons are still the same, but I can tell yen's this:

Miss Clare never used that "N" word again, and she was blessed to have died lovin the thang she seemed to hate the most.
I'm shore proud Rachel came back that day and brought Eve. I needed a friend so bad at that time in my life, and her color was perfect.

I'll always love Eve.

*clears throat*

Um..... maybe no 'replies' (except yours) but the the titles sure are bringing in a lot of 'readers'.....

*guess they want to read about Final Fantasy too huh?

Really though...sorry for the 'confusion'.

This is absolutely priceless!

You know, I didn't have anything against you at first, but you've been bound and determined to rectify that. You just don't know when to quit.

But as I said, I'm done with you now. Do whatever you want, just remember my original warning when the wolves come for you.

Originally posted by Prak
This is absolutely priceless!

You know, I didn't have anything against you at first, but you've been bound and determined to rectify that. You just don't know when to quit.

But as I said, I'm done with you now. Do whatever you want, just remember my original warning when the wolves come for you.

*looks around, takes a sip of coffee and shivers with fear*

Originally posted by Lady Melissa Kail
*clears throat*

Um..... maybe no 'replies' (except yours) but the the titles sure are bringing in a lot of 'readers'.....


I've clicked on almost all of your topics and I didn't read any of them beyond the first few lines.

I hope you have fun with Prak. =|


But as I said, I'm done with you now.


awww =\

Hmm... Guess that means I'm your designated wolf this evening.

I was hoping so =\

But it's cool. I challenged her to a write off, so now I can look forward to defeating her with my expert writing skills, and verve, before going to sleep.It will surely send her into a dreadful spiral of shame. And, once she recovers from that spiral of shame, I'll do it again.

What are we to 'write about' sweety pie sugar plumb honey dumplin as that big bad wolf comes to try and eat me??

Only if you lose, Little Red Writing Hood.

Originally posted by Lady Melissa Kail
What are we to 'write about' sweety pie sugar plumb honey dumplin as that big bad wolf comes to try and eat me??

I don't care what the hell you write about. I'm starting the timer now.


I'm writing a poem about pants, and how we ought to put them on.

Originally posted by Prak
Okay. We can see that you're very artsy. That's all well and good. The question of the hour is ,"Why are you here?"

This is, after all, the Final Fantasy Shrine. Thus far, you've shown no desire to talk about anything Final Fantasy-related

This is Fiction and Poetry, Where you talk about things other than Final Fantasy...Dumbass

My Gosh! I have a chest cold and the laughter has me coughing my head off!

Little Red Riding Hood ain't got nothing on me my dear sweet Wolf! I know a short cut to her house and by the time you get there, I'll be hiding with a meat bone and when you come to take it, I'll tie a collar around your neck and YOU will be MY pet!

As for you that needs to write directions on how to put pants on OR take them off....it's simple..you just don't wear any at all! Be FREE like a 'tay in a wane'....

Ever seen the movie Nell?

lol

Originally posted by Alpott87


This is Fiction and Poetry, Where you talk about things other than Final Fantasy...Dumbass


Indeed. I have noticed this. You seem to have completely missed my point, however, and I'm in no mood now to explain it. Ask me later, 'kay?

<CENTER><FONT face="Times New Roman" color="green"><U>Do you know me?</U>

Once I was alone, adrift in my own eyes
Following footsteps on a path through fragmented, blue silence
And though I was not very afraid
I found the strength to crawl on through the night...

Many dreams vanished as ghosts in a horizon of crimson flames
Myself shattered, distraught, I walked on
And through the archaeic, dimly lit tunnel I crawled into a place in my mind
That I could never find in truth in, though I searched in grails, far and closeby...

One day, near the end, I found in you a light, not present in sweetest blurry dreams
A rainbow from terrors of giants and sepulchre night
A platinum, elestial waterfall of orchids and purple hearts

My dreams are all broken nothings I'm afraid
But I found an Unconditional key in my life
The key unlocks many gentle wishes, of light-hearted sparrows and loves far, far beyond me
The dearest one to me is you...

Melissa.

Thank you so MUCH for the beauty in this writing. It's the perfect thing for me to read now before I get offline and attempt sleep. So beautiful.....

To the rest of you....HEY! Nice meeting you and it's been lots and lots of FuN! I look fwd to coming back and reading more tomorrow night.

Take care and may each one be blessed with sweet dreams and awaken to a new day of deepened 'awareness' of ' the divine TRUE self.

hugs and kisses xoxoxoxoxx

Can I join in the poetry bash?

It wasn't a serious contest, so feel free. You even win! Though it would be cool if someone could start up a serious one. I'd do it, but I don't have money to spend on a prize right now.

But I'd totally enter. I could reuse my pants poem. Change the word "pants" to "socks" and a few other small edits and apparently it'd be like an entirely new experience!

Originally posted by rezo
I was hoping so =\

But it's cool. I challenged her to a write off, so now I can look forward to defeating her with my expert writing skills, and verve, before going to sleep.It will surely send her into a dreadful spiral of shame. And, once she recovers from that spiral of shame, I'll do it again.

Just for the record...

Your Pants poem- easily the greatest poem ever written. All future poems I read will be held up against that one, although I doubt they will measure up.

You should make it a song, and I can listen to it when I put on my pants. ; ;

You know...

I agree with Ndi. It should be made into a song, it's ****ing cool! Kudos to you, it is very catchy...you win, not me, we'll let Ndi be the judge. You can't judge, you wrote the poem!!!

BTW, I'm sure if you searched online you'd find quite a few contests. Hopefully they're not all snobby, preferring crap like mine lol . Na mine doesn't even make any sense, just emotionless words of daydreamy sentences strung together haphazardly. Often though it seems to come together beautifully, but that's just by luck (or maybe something else...spooky) But yours is more fun and more real. Good on you.

I've always liked ODP's, because he uses a bit of analogy in there, and yet knows how to continue it on otherwise. You have great flow.

Melissa, your writing feels more forced than anything. It's not that it's awful. It just doesn't really feel natural. It's like you're writing poetry because you feel you have to, not that you genuinely got inspired. You then constantly rhyme and it all feels tremendously unoriginal and boring.

I'm not raining on your parade. I just genuinely don't feel anything for what you wrote. Don't write because you have to, but because you want to.

Also, Prak, take a hike if you've got nothing useful to say.