[dogish]

woah reserve

[Shoe.]

Username:
Sinister Smile
Name: Poetry
Nickname(s): Poe
Gender: Male
Likes:
-The Public
-Attics
-Famous Literature
-Eels
-Beach Smell

Sexual Orientation:
Questioning
Occupation: N/A
Colors:
•••
Dislikes:
-Indoors
-Zero Caution
-New Movies
-Grapefruit
-Catchy Music

"You're doing life wrong."

Personality:
Poetry is remarkable in his ability to remember literature in a short period of time. He is, however, autistic. His autism prevents him from being social, but he longs to speak to the public. Unlike most authors, Poetry wants his name out there, he wants for other creatures to remember him. He has undergone many procedures to be rid of his mouth tumor (the cause of his mouth drainage) but none of them have been successful. Despite this, he is very clean. He likes to keep his surroundings clean. While he likes his surroundings to be clean, he prefers his attics to be dusty and dark. Poetry isn't sure why, he just finds a creepy attic appealing in some mysterious way. He enjoys hanging poetry and other famous literatures on his walls for motivation. His favorite poem is "Little Orphant Annie." This was the first piece he decided to put forth an effort to remember.

Poem:

Little Orphant Annie
Little Orphant Annie’s come to our house to stay,
An’ wash the cups an’ saucers up, an’ brush the crumbs away,
An’ shoo the chickens off the porch, an’ dust the hearth, an’ sweep,
An’ make the fire, an’ bake the bread, an’ earn her board-an’-keep;
An’ all us other childern, when the supper things is done,
We set around the kitchen fire an’ has the mostest fun
A-list’nin’ to the witch-tales ‘at Annie tells about,
An’ the Gobble-uns ‘at gits you
Ef you
Don’t
Watch
Out!

Onc’t they was a little boy wouldn’t say his prayers,--
So when he went to bed at night, away up stairs,
His Mammy heerd him holler, an’ his Daddy heerd him bawl,
An’ when they turn’t the kivvers down, he wasn’t there at all!
An’ they seeked him in the rafter-room, an’ cubby-hole, an’ press,
An’ seeked him up the chimbly-flue, an’ ever’wheres, I guess;
But all they ever found was thist his pants an’ roundabout--
An’ the Gobble-uns’ll git you
Ef you
Don’t
Watch
Out!

An’ one time a little girl ‘ud allus laugh an’ grin,
An’ make fun of ever’one, an’ all her blood an’ kin;
An’ onc’t, when they was “company," an’ ole folks was there,
She mocked ‘em an’ shocked ‘em, an’ said she didn’t care!
An’ thist as she kicked her heels, an’ turn’t to run an’ hide,
They was two great big Black Things a-standin’ by her side,
An’ they snatched her through the ceilin’ ‘fore she knowed what she’s about!
An’ the Gobble-uns’ll git you
Ef you
Don’t
Watch
Out!

An’ little Orphant Annie says when the blaze is blue,
An’ the lamp-wick sputters, an’ the wind goes woo-oo!
An’ you hear the crickets quit, an’ the moon is gray,
An’ the lightnin’-bugs in dew is all squenched away,--
You better mind yer parents, an’ yer teachers fond an’ dear,
An’ churish them ‘at loves you, an’ dry the orphant’s tear,
An’ he’p the pore an’ needy ones ‘at clusters all about,
Er the Gobble-uns’ll git you
Ef you
Don’t
Watch
Out!

Alone
From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were -- I have not seen
As others saw -- I could not bring
My passions from a common spring --
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow -- I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone --
And all I lov'd -- I lov'd alone --
Then -- in my childhood -- in the dawn
Of a most stormy life -- was drawn
From ev'ry depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still --
From the torrent, or the fountain --
From the red cliff of the mountain --
From the sun that 'round me roll'd
In its autumn tint of gold --
From the lightning in the sky
As it pass'd me flying by --
From the thunder, and the storm --
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view --

▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲

Relationships:
Zed
Poetry and Zed get along so well because neither can speak. They met strolling through the forest, Zed looking for a bite to eat and Poetry taking a break from his long day of writing.
Zoonotic
Zoonotic and Poetry are completely different species. They get along because of similar interest, neither of them are racist to each other. Zoonotic is a story teller, and Poetry has an eye for writing in any media. They look to each other for inspiration.

[Tyki-Pon]

[Tyki-Pon]

Sorry for double post. But good luck everyone!

[Guest]

I'm probably going to get a lot of backlash from this, but I'll say this much before I tell you who won: this contest was based on the poem.
That being said... [please don't kill me] I enjoyed Byteme's the most. I discussed my judging with the other Mako staff and at least one other person agreed, so I feel pretty sound in my decision.

Thank you all for trying out! I'd do some RUs but I'm too busy to do any; I'm super sorry.