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Alex McQuate Mar 2022
Oh Gygax,
If you could see what you've made,
What it's become,
To those you've touched,
With simple dice, paper, and pen,
You'd see a community you've helped,
A people inspired,
Of joys you bring everyday.

You introduce to some a world of creativeness,
Of fantasy and dragon slaying,
To others you've helped provide a creative outlet,
Something they thought they'd never have again.

You've helped people make friends,
Some lifelong,
Connecting them in various ways,
But through it all,
It will have all started,
With a 20 sided dice,
And a simple question;
"Would you like to play?"

You've helped some through some rather dark and rough patches,
A form of escapism that can't compare,
To others you've provided a fun weekly activity,
To decompress from the toils of the day-to-day.

From the starry eyes of our most youthful,
To the slightly hazy eyes of old,
Entertainment you've brought to us,
From your average joes,
To famous folk,
The touch of your creation enraptures all that it beholds.

My friends and I gather again,
On this Friday night,
To fight zombie hoards, Kobold warlords,
Even a Black pudding or two,
And for a little while,
In those fleeting instants,
They're great hero's of Valara and Altour.

So thank you Gygax,
for all you've done,
as we sit down at this table,
from the noble adventuring group known as the Assless Chaps,
(Exasperated Sigh)
And their beleaguered Dungeon Master.
Zack Ripley Jan 2022
To the dancer in the dark: what you do
isn't a walk in the park.
So don't be afraid to let someone
shine a light on you.
To the singer in the shower:
you know as well as anyone
how music can heal.
So let people hear your power.
To the sketchbook artist:
one person's trash is another's treasure.
So, please: don't throw something away
even if it doesn't give you pleasure.
To everyone else:
you all had dreams at some point.
If you're friends with artists, respect the hustle. Respect the passion.
Help keep the dream alive.
Because dreaming is still
how the strong survive.
But they can't do it all alone.
I know I've said it five hundred times
I hope five hundred is okay
Five hundred words,
Five hundred ways,
to say I love you in a day.
Five Hundred words  that still fall short
Can't think of one to say
Five Hundred words and still not one that truly can explain.

How I feel
and how its real
How I'm supposed to say,
How you make the moon shine,
How you make me flat-line
When you make the birds ring and the trees come to life.

The beauty in your smile
The jewels in your eyes
When you sing with your voice
With the stars in the night

Asking myself where does the time go?
And how you make the breeze blow.

When I dream of a future with you by my side
With our dog in the picture and
these corny *** rhymes
With you on my chest and your hands in mine

Where I'll confess my love
another five hundred times.
If gestures be great wonders, I'd build you the pyramids.
They'd be as vast and grand as when we gaze into the universe,
telling tall tales of stars.

And It'd be just you and me.

We'd connect the dots in our hearts
Well past twilight, in the charm of the dark.
and pick our thoughts apart.

We'd dance like pups and sing our songs
like the foolish children that we are.
We'd ride the same frequency
revel in our indecencies

We'd breath winds of nostalgia.
reliving vibrant memories.

We'd laugh and joke
Listen to rock and roll,
smoke northern lights and boundless joys
while music vibes with our souls.

We'd fall asleep
trading treats and body heat.

We'd dream of fairy-tale love
until the next time we meet.

And It'd be just you and me.
Rea Dec 2021
18
any ground 18 stood on crumbled as all once-great nations do.
the flame of hope that had kept the lights on
turned and burned down the wooden roofs,
while the archers left arrowheads in flesh.
lakes of insurmountable grief covered the ruins of who she once was.
in moments of cruelty, she could feel the bottom of the waters,
could feel the glory of the old self.
the wickedness was that she did not possess the strength to lift it up again, could not resurface glimmering gems.
left without sight and taste, doomed to the brush of fingertips.
Every year on my birthday, I write something to summarize that year. This is part of my ode to 18. Good riddance honestly.
Maloi Oct 2021
As my mind think a lot
It made me realized
For I am a daughter to my parents
A sister to my siblings
A friend for my friends
But who I am for myself then?

I took time to explore
And understand more
How complex it is
And question of what ifs

So, I came to the point
I’m a better companion
Exploring this new connection
With a sense of direction

I guess this is it
For what they call a gift
Recognizing the depth
In a spectrum of oneself
I hope I could carry on
And look forward to see what’s next.
I wrote this for myself :') I love you Eloi !
Maloi Oct 2021
The world is spinning so do I
It is just a beer with peers
But I feel great once in a while
No mindless thoughts
And a sudden woke
It is just me and my ode
A quick writing of me while between drunk and sober at the same time
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