Ode To Worthians 2

Cyn
Kansan,
You are tops.
I lick your chops.
They’re so delicious
As art, quite nutritious.
Feeding my pitiful heart,
Inspiring me to work on art.
Increasing my angst, low self-esteem.
I wrestle with my tablet and then dream
We meet, I gaze behind your seamless eye
Into your mind, some secret to spy.
Talent so kaleidoscopic
Such mad skills, what makes you tick?
Fooling Godly preachers;
I’m in the bleachers.
You soar above.
All my love,
I am
Spam.

I've grown quite fond of forum posts
That make me laugh much more than most
Images that made me roar
Daring words that I adore

Dinosaurs and soldiers who
Decorated things taboo
Costumes that were quite insane
A wonderfully demented brain!

What else is there that begs for love?
That cutesy tuft of hair above
And voice that I was shocked to hear
Was oddly pleasant to my ear!

Sparkling eyes and fiendish grin
that speak of mischief deep within
You joke about your portly frame
Just more for us to love I claim!

But now your posts are far too few
I think that many miss you too
I for one do wish to see
Much more of you my sweet monkey!

There once was a Textor named Merbley
who wrote lovely stories superbly.
Wielding words sharp as swords,
she won lots of awards,
and defeated all challengers verbally.

When a head-to-head contest arose,
with a keyboard she vanquished her foes.
When it came to Romance
not a soul stood a chance.
None could match her impeccable prose.

At the top of the Text Hall of Fame
carved in letters of gold, is her name.
And the thing I find oddest
is that she remains modest —
so humble, she puts me to shame.

Long-eared beagle of modern lore,
Above mere mortals you do soar.
Your eyes are bright and true.
Your panting tongue and smiling face,
Your tiny paws in warm embrace,
Each day our love renew.

Gentle romance, but not hardcore,
Leave me begging, wanting more.
In truth you make me blush
Stopping just short of ripping lace,
With sweaty palms, my heart does race.
Bright red my face does flush.

Coveted eights with ease you score.
Share your secret, I do implore.
With envy I am green.
The trophies line your mantle place.
I hang my head, abject disgrace.
Awed by your regal mien.

I try as I have tried before.
To emulate what I adore.
In your shadow I reside
Your comments they do not lambaste,
Yet myself I still do debase.
As my feelings I confide.

When I enter a contest and I think I might win
The sight of other entries wipes away my grin
And the votes keep coming, lower each day
Crushing my hopes and washing them away

So it was only natural when I saw the subject line
‘Photoshop Mentor Program’ — the chance was mine
I read through the thread and typed ‘mentor please’
And into my world came the great Qofcheez

She has trophies and medals and stars galore
Her karma’s so high it can’t rise anymore
She decided to give me a much needed hand
Despite the time zone in her faraway land

With three entries so far she’s helped me along
She knows what is best and she knows what looks wrong
Her tutorials make chopping so easy and fun
She’s always been patient since the start of day one

Qofcheez, I write this to thank you so much
With your help it will be victory I too will touch
Though my average vote has yet to pass 4.5
It’s toward that gold trophy I continue to strive

His talent is truly amazing,
A gold-littered path he is blazing.
He uses his quill
With astonishing skill,
And the bar he is constantly raising.

As the morning sun bursts with orange flames
And the golden sea calmly shuffles out,
I hear all men whisper a thousand names;
Bella, Sweetness, you know there is no doubt
Your name I'll roar above the thousand cries,
Above the thousand tears when lovers mourn.
My love for you, my sweet, is without whys,
With you in mind I'll never be forlorn.

Blueness veils the darkness crowned in the west,
Silence signals lovers are now in awe
Of the golden sun, brighter than the rest.
My love, I know that you are twenty-four
And we've never met, but, please don't ridicule,
For I love you, my Ozzy-sweet, MollyCule.

In ev'ry life, there's one true friend
we know will stay, to bitter end,
who knows what goals we dearly seek,
who guides our path when we are weak.

It is less known, but mostly true:
Companions help us all here, too.
Protecting us from errant word,
and making sure our needs are heard.

That can be hard for them to do:
A challenge met by special few.
Indeed, some textors use their aid
even at Worth, to make the grade.

Diogenese's one such guy
whose forum posts could go awry.
His partner works to keep him true;
makes sure his writing has a clue.

Tis not easy; there's little fame
in keeping Text from being lame.
Is it wrong, or bad? Not very.
This special friend's imaginary.

We thus fete them, in rhyme and song:
Diogenese and Flagon.

LadyMin, Fraeulein, where are you?
Worth is so blue!
Hear all the sobs
Now you’ve two jobs.

Forums are stagnant, wits are slow.
You have to know -
There is no kink,
No friendly wink.

Worse, no entries from your soft hand,
Your place to land -
Pasty with grief.
Bring us relief.

Minute Poetry
The Minute Poem is rhyming verse form consisting of 12 lines of 60 syllables written in strict
iambic meter. The poem is formatted into 3 stanzas of 8,4,4,4; 8,4,4,4; 8,4,4,4 syllables.
The rhyme scheme is as follows: aabb, ccdd, eeff

source

As commas are laid to rest,
Fragments joined, run-ons split
Attributions punctuated
And emotive fires lit.

Proofing finds another error
Which involves another word
The word filter decided to change
Into something too absurd.

Syntax and sin taxing
Grammar found in fault
Verbs and nouns in disagreement
Hyphens spread like salt

After the spell check
the just one more reading
eyes blurrier than old bifocals
the limit no more exceeding.

It is in the reading
the pudding finds its proof.
Each plot a bit more twisted,
Every character raises the roof.

Textors exercise their craft.
Wringing out grief or mirth.
Drawing a picture in the mind
Showing what words are worth.

Author Dio we all love and know
Of his book we said “oh, way to go!”
Wearing red glasses
The girls will make passes
Then maybe he’ll have to lie low.

There once was a girl JoodieBee
From what everybody could see
Liked so much Camelot
She went to see Spam-a-Lot
And guess whom is jealous – who me?

Suave Stadsman is good with the chop
He’s great with the ole Photoshop
Though why he loves London
Is such a conundrum
Does he like Brit beer brew from hop?

We all know that Min is a Lady
And with contests she really is abley
With her magic wand
To leave you au fond
For trophies for her is not maybe.

There’s one with the nickname Fanatic
Good grammar for them is ecstatic
But they a gave blue star
From a place very far
Now that was quite aristocratic.

A figment of imagination
Could bring one to joyous elation
If you had forgot
That their talent is hot
For Figmentt is congratulation.

I hope you will not be offended
If my words to you not extended
As a nubile young thing
I am not in full swing
And now my small ditty has ended.

If I could express what 1000 is worth
Using either pictures or words
Would I create a work of mirth?
Or, simply fodder for nerds?

I’ll often peruse creations sublime
Wishing I had the gift for the graphic
But what I could create, even given the time
Would hardly increase site traffic.

I’ll have to use English written with letters
To make clear my ideals of art
I’ll leave the pictures to my visual betters
Photoshop I can no longer take part.

Would that I could create such things
For truly then my heart would sing.

My addiction, my affliction, I can not get enough.

I sit at work and sneak you in, my browser with a fake desktop to stop those prying eyes. My boss thinks me hard at work, and truth be told, I am...my entry will take first prize, I'm sure of it this time. I've dedicated 15 hours to my image and I have the time clock card to prove it; I even cut my lunch hour short so I could work on through it.

Now you may think it wrong of me to earn my pay while working on my entry, but I can not decide. I cash the thing and barely have...enough to live life by. So I trim a little from my work and use my time for good, I sponsor everyone I see that needs a helping hand,. I am a good asset you see… to this wonderful community.

The boss thinks my work is swell, my co-workers don’t think of me so well. They call him from his office(to catch me at my task), he grumpily replies, “Get a camera, take a picture and upload it.“ and he forwards them a link. I open up the mailing and click upon the link; Worth1000 opens up and shows me his stats page.

SOB, he’s the one who left me in second place!!

highly eclectic,
talented people abound
all deserve a win

Define the value of imagination.
Priceless.
Define the value of imagination within limitations.
Creativity is born.
Praise be to the creators who find meaning between the lines.

Lastly, there are the writers of Worth1000 (Yes, there is a text section at Worth). This is a good place to hone one’s skills, as well as get honest critiques. Everybody was helpful, but I would like to single out Jago, for his single minded insistence that I get my quote punctuation right. I use a lot of them, and it was a help, though it took at least six months to get into the habit of doing it correctly. I don’t know which of us got more frustrated during the process.

Merbley's full of romance
IC's story's hot
Dio's talks with Flagon
Brendan writes with robots
Fanatic reigns supreme
Deactivator's moving up
Figmentt gives the creeps
Celtic's Death is joyful
Sickboy Haiku'd best

Each contest more take up the pen
to see what they'll say next.

All hail MadMonkey2
Possessor of one of Worth’s more twisted senses of Humor
And the awesome cartooning skills to express it
Able, with a single entry, to turn a multimedia contest on its head
May your wizard’s wand never wilt

I love my Worth 1000
I come here everyday
I give Photoshop my all
And get helpful feedback along the way.

I have learned many tips and tricks of the Photoshop trade.
Now only if I were better,
Then I might get paid.

I wish that I could really, hone in on more of my skill
And If I stick with Worth1000
I’m pretty darn sure I will.

When I started I was terrible.
Time went on and now it’s a bit more bearable.
I am not quite where I would like to be
And with more Practice I think my fellow Worthians will see.

I am thankful for the staff at worth1000 for everything you do, because if I were not here I would just be feeling blue.