A former lyric to celebrate some bode
A lyric to praise someone who is a goad
A lyric in praise of the West Wind - an abode
Of Autumn and frost; a lovely lyric that rowed
Many poets to the highest pinnacle mode –
Inspired me too, try my skills at a crossroad.

Poets write on ephemeral with you, O Anode!
They describe love, beauty, or music, borrowed
From Pindar or 1st century poet Horace lode.
But chose I You, Dear, stunning, serene, grim Ode.
Inspired so much that feelings and views outflowed
From my pen and compelled to pen down the load
On the paper; ideas from Wordsworth I borrowed.

A strict line or stanza is not required in ode
So free, so unrestricted, so honest to explode
Your emotions; anyone can try his carload
To stride his feelings to carve elation sowed
In heart to pen down his emotions bestowed.

Types are the Pindaric ode, the Horatian ode,
and the Irregular ode; third being most popular load.
I follow Monorhyme, and wrote an ode on an ode
To commemorate importance. Nor ignore nor strode,
Used my flair, elegance and ideas winnowed
With imagination; no notion borrowed.

The tone is serious, genuine, and reflective strode
Celebrate major events and moments load
Aeolic ode written with a calm, tranquil mode
And contemplative tone so that pacify abode
By William Wordsworth or John Keats showed
Expecting to see more elegant and serene ode.

There's this empty void
when I look to you

It's all those things I don't know
about you

All the times you got your heart broken
and the ones you spinned that too.

I remember your laughter
when it was real and it was not
and your eyes after disaster
when they would be downcast
and filled with plaster.

So hard to reach you at times,
it made it all the worse
when all I wanted was for you to look
and see me whole.

There's not enough words
to explain what we would receive
if I could be honest with you
and you with me.

Either way,
I wish you only the best
while I have you
in my dreams.

Small creature, why are you here?
The forest is only a minute away,
and yet you chose concrete.
Did you die of fear?

Small creature, I cannot be so bold
as to stop and lift you into grass
for I have commitments
Did you die old?

Small creature, on cement you lay prone
feet in the air, nose up
food for some passing hawk
Did you die alone?

As you drink, may your spirits be lifted  
An ode to a life lived and yet, to live
A toast to the day that has passed and for tomorrow to come

Whenever I return
I make sure to take notice
of all your quirks and the works
that in a few years
will be gone on short notice.
I photograph and I film
so later I can reflect
on all the time together
we have spent.
My best friend since birth
my partner in crime
we do everything together, yet
I cannot imagine a world without you
my beautiful divine.
Hair as white as snow
and eyes as blue as the sky
your pink nose, and ears
and the smile you leave behind.
I cherish and treasure
every single moment together,
you are spoiled and sometimes rotten
but rest assured, that in my life
you will never be forgotten.
They say mans best friend
is D-O-G
but to me that's a fable,
because for me
it's C-A-T
never forget, I love you Kenny

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.

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.