Purple Koalas Do Not Exist

the works of Jessica Barril

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Category: Poetry

Runtime Error ‘1221’: object variable ‘love’ not set.

This is a pseudo-poem-prose-idk-what thing I made up while at work as I was thinking about the types of relationships that people generally experience.  I was gonna make a ramble post about my thoughts but then this sort of sprung into life.  It’s weird.  Don’t care, thought I’d share.

it’s funny how emotions aren’t unique in any way.
how romantic experiences are almost no different between anyone.
and somehow each experience is still special.
the first love.
the one who just wanted to be friends,
but you were still in love.
the person you thought was the one.
the person that is the one.
and yet even though we can generalize any relationship,
romance is an illogical entity.
sure, there are patterns or trends that surface after some time
and allow you to predict the outcome of a relationship.
and you might think, well that’s pretty logical.
romance is an illogical entity.
because what if, this time, it all works out?
what if, this time, the love is real?
and then the programmer in you kicks in and now there’s all these
if and else statements going on in your head
and you think, well that’s pretty logical.
but emotions are an illogical entity.
when you spell out your emotions
there are no syntax errors
when you think through your emotions
there are no compile time errors
but when your emotions go live
there are always runtime errors.
because emotions are an illogical entity.
and then you go into debug mode.
what went wrong? how do I fix it?
step by step you work through the logic
but you can’t figure out what’s wrong
because you know,
romance is an illogical entity.

Duckies & Drama Part IV

The main storyline of our campaign revolved around a prophecy (of course) that states or predicts the futures of seven people.  I unfortunately don’t have the prophecy written down, but perhaps Teddy could possibly stumble upon it randomly and then post it to OPAP under the title “Duckies & Drama Part V” with massive credit to our DM *hinthint*.  In any case, our DM had apparently made up the prophecy on the spot so kudos to him.

Obviously – or maybe not obviously – the seven predictions correlated to all of our characters…maybe.  Our DM kind of teased at one point that the prophecy had nothing to do with us, but I call BS since that would have been pretty boring.  Anyway, there was no way of knowing whose future was whose right away until we were closer to completing the campaign.  Well, I don’t think we actually ever found out, which is yet another unfortunate consequence of our DM leaving.  Since we all had some idea of where we wanted to take our characters, we could narrow some of the predictions down to some characters, though since the prophecy had to be vague, at least two predictions could be applied to any character.

One of the predictions actually came true! Maybe.  I don’t actually know if it was the right prediction when I wrote this poem, but I made my best guess.  So hopefully you all remember Scarlet the elf monk from last week’s poem with the Queen in Ice and that Scarlet is a goody two-shoes.  Well, our group was in a city or some large town with actual things to do and Scarlet decided to take on some side work.  She confronted a corrupt city guard and brought him to court, but the guard demanded a trial by combat.  The guard proved to be too tough and Scarlet, well… (At this point, we were around level 5 and the DM, for his evil DM reasons, made the guard level 10 or so.) The combat took place on or near some cliff and the guard ended up tossing her body over the cliff edge, feeding her to the alligators or crocodiles that lived in the waters.  It’s important to note that my character was not actually present at this event.  In fact, no other character was there to witness Scarlet’s death.  Two members of the party found out about it when people were raving about the fight.  They went to retrieve Scarlet’s things from the water and then told my bard about it.  So my bard doesn’t record the actual fight, only the cause and result of the trial.

The following poem isn’t in any particular format.  It’s definitely reads more as a story than a poem since it doesn’t flow as nicely as I think poems should.

The Lament of Erza Scarlet

If you know the prophecy of seven,
Then I will tell you the story of Scarlet,
Who had too soon risen to heaven.

An elven monk who worshiped Slüne,
She was embraced by the goddess of the moon
After falling in battle one day.

Her scarlet hair and emerald eyes,
Lithe yet strong she was
A beauty, which came as no surprise.

Kind in heart, she was good.
Fierce in battle, she was a monk full of spunk
And for the law, she always stood.

And for the law, she fought a man,
An unlawful man sworn to the city.
To bring him to justice, their battle began.

But the man was too strong and too fast.
He slew her and tossed her over the edge.
And the battle was over at last.

Against the man she had stood her ground,
But that day was not her day
And she fell in battle without a sound.

And thus dear Scarlet, my good friend,
Fought the good fight, but earned her rest.
In heaven she will stay, but this is not the end.

Alright, so unfortunately this is the last poem I have.  I hope you’ve enjoyed what I’ve written! I certainly had a lot of fun writing these and maybe in my next campaign (whenever that may be) I will be a bard again.

Duckies & Drama Part III

Often when I think of fantasy adventure stories, they take place in some part of the world with diverse regions of trees, hills, mountains, swamps, etc.  Our campaign took place in a desert country/kingdom on the coast of whatever continent it was attached to.  Deserts don’t sound particularly adventurous – they’re kind of like the ocean, with miles and miles of nothing to see but you know there are things out there.  This country did have some mountain ranges (that we never ended up getting to) and probably non-desert areas (of which I can’t recall), but for the most part, our journey had us trek across sand, sand, and more sand.

The thing about being in the desert… you don’t expect places to have snow or ice.  It’s just naturally impossible.  So when you find a place in the desert that happens to have ice, you should be a little wary, suspicious, or what have you, right? Right?

This poem is about Teddy’s character, who was an elf monk named Erza Scarlet.  For the record, before this campaign started, we all agreed we would have evil characters to switch things up.  Sometimes you just get tired of being the good guy.  Well, Teddy just couldn’t play an evil character and thus Scarlet was the odd (wo)man out… well, until the dwarf priest joined the team.  Anyway, our group had gone into a tower to look for a little boy (I can’t remember why) and some level of the tower was covered in ice.  In the center of this level, which I believe was all one room, was a frozen woman.  The majority of us decided to ignore her but Scarlet decided to go up and touch her.  I’m not entirely sure what Scarlet was thinking during this event (as a player, I was jumping back and forth between the campaign and work so I wasn’t there for the whole thing) but I assume it had something to do with the fact that she was a goody two-shoes.

Oh, also, it might be handy to mention that each stanza of the poem is written in limerick form.  I wanted to change up the style of how I was writing poetry as the last two were fairly similar in form so I decided to use the lighthearted limerick style to describe a ridiculous, yet serious (as Scarlet was in danger of dying), event of our campaign.  Every stanza doesn’t flow super well as limericks should, but I had fun writing it and that’s all that matters.

The Queen in Ice

There once was an elf monk from the east
Who entered a tower with a priest
She found a woman in ice
Touched her before thinking twice
And the ice queen’s power was released.

The ice encasing the queen turned red
From the body of the monk, blood spread
With fear she began to scream
But whispers lured her to dream
And ice started to encase her head.

Sensing danger, Brother Faith ran in
The warrior Lavark behind him
With urgency they acted
The ice queen now distracted
But still the ice covered her skin.

To save the monk, our hero Lavark
Hacked at the ice, sword swinging in arcs
Ice spikes sprung up from the ground
The monk in ice still was bound
And her vision started to go dark.

The priest entered a battle of wills
With the ice queen to defeat her chills
He fought with will and pure light
Overpowered her with his might
But it did not count toward his kills.*

The ice encasing the monk shattered
Falling to the floor with a clatter
The elf monk Scarlet was saved
The cursed ice she had braved
Will hurt no other ever after.

*It was tradition for us to keep a kill count during a campaign.  Pretty simple – if you dealt the killing blow on an enemy, +1 to your kill count.  The dwarf priest actually didn’t do a lot of fighting and, as you can imagine, didn’t get a lot of kills.  It was kind of funny to hear him do this great battle of wills with this magical ice queen but because he didn’t actually kill her, he couldn’t increase his kill counter.

Duckies & Drama Part II

The best part of having a large Dungeons and Dragons group is that there is a lot of variety between characters and players. Our group started out rather small – at first, it was just going to be me, Teddy, and three of our friends with one of them as our DM. However, one of them didn’t come back for that last semester, but in the end, we gained four more members, three of which were DnD virgins. Usually I am not a fan of large roleplaying groups – it takes way too long to get anything done and we never accomplish much in one sitting. (In the campaign before this one, several members of the group spent a good hour deciding how to protect a stupid wagon because they believed someone might try to steal it or something would happen to it. I may or may not still be bitter about this event.) ANYWAY, in this campaign, I was playing a bard, which meant that more people would generate more material for good storytelling. Plus, more people also meant I got to do less roleplaying and since I suck at roleplaying, I was perfectly fine with that. Besides, I was playing the neutral, observant bard who had grand plans for her own future but for the time being was enjoying the shenanigans her teammates were getting into. This poem is about the character of one of the DnD virgins. His character was a half elf barbarian who couldn’t read because he didn’t grow up in a civilized town or city. At this point, I don’t remember much of his character, only that he was pretty badass. During one of our pit stops in our grand adventure, we were in a very small town in which there just happened to be a festival going on. (As players, we were waiting for the rest of our group to arrive as two of them worked on campus and wouldn’t be off work until later.) One of the events was the brawl and our barbarian, of course, decided to enter it. His name is Agememnon, which is pronounced ah-geh-mehm-nahn. Eventually, since we thought it was a mouthful, we decided to nickname him Aggie except we are horrible at not being metagamers so we never actually used our characters’ names.

The Barbarian’s Brawl

Our tale begins with Agememnon,
The fierce barbarian of half elf origin.
At the summer fair in Arindale,
He enters a brawl, belly full of ale.
Before his opponent, Orzar the Orc,
Stands he completely naked stark.
He throws the first strike with a yell.
A blow returns but does not fell.
Another punch pushes back his foe,
Who kicks at him, not high nor low.
Agememnon seizes his leg
To make him fall, knock him down a peg.
An elbow to the face yet the orc still stands,
The brawl not going as he had planned.
The barbarian goes into a rage.
In the fight he is engaged.
One hit and another,
The orc cries for his mother.
And with a critical blow
Defeat the orc will know.
Agememnon the victor,
Proven to be quicker.
So this story comes to an end
And to fame Agememnon shall ascend.

Duckies & Drama Part 1

Okay so this post doesn’t actually have anything to do with duckies (sorry to disappoint!) but I was having a hard time finding a word relating to literature that started with “du.” Why was I looking for such a word, you ask? Well I wanted to have a clever “D&D” title because I’m a nerd and this post is related to Dungeons & Dragons poetry. So, you know, the drama part is relevant so I’ve got that going for me.

Anyway, the following poem was based on characters from my most recent D&D campaign during my last semester of college. Since I was a bard, it only made sense that I would write poetry or “songs” about our adventures. Unfortunately, since our dungeon master left halfway through the semester, we never actually ended up completing the campaign and thus I only have a few poems about some of the more awesome/particularly inspiring events that happened. There are still a couple of events I wanted to write about, though it’s been so long and I wasn’t present at the events that I don’t know if I’ll be able to tell the stories properly. But I digress.

This poem is the first one I wrote during the campaign and it is about the (human) warrior and the (dwarf) priest that had very different personalities and didn’t really see eye-to-eye, though this has nothing to do with their height differences. The warrior was much more mercenary-like and did not believe in any god while the priest was, of course, very spiritual and holy and good and whatnot. So often these two butted heads together when it came to making some decisions. I wrote this poem after a special event brought these two together and caused them to form a bond of friendship.

Lord Lavark and Brother Faith

Lavark and Faith, foes at journey’s start,
Unite as near brothers to touch our hearts.
A fae, the enemy, demands a life.
The warrior Lavark makes the sacrifice
To save his friends from an endless fate.
But the fearless Faith with Lavark he waits
For the dawning sun to meet their end.
They face the fae as one, as friends.
An epic battle soon breaks out.
With strength they fight without a doubt
And defeat their foe before the morn.
With triumph they cheer, the priest and the lord.
The oasis fades along with the fae,
But not with these two, with us they will stay.
And so this tale comes to a close.
And Lavark and Faith are no longer foes.
Brothers become they, adventures they’ll share.
Man lord and dwarf priest, a friendship rare.


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