Last poster wins!

May we do the rhymes once more?
Those were the days, with puns galore
And posts that we were fighting for
To win the game with verbal score
That is, if anybody's left
Unless this place is now bereft
Of challengers attempting theft
Of victory with posts quite deft
So let me throw a gauntlet down
In case there's anyone around
To step up to the battleground
Of this werewolf-vampire-ghost town.

Rhyming is and interesting thing,
Off of your tongue it makes words spring.
Although restricting one's word choice,
They may indeed enhance one's voice.
So let's begin this game again
as the crown we battle to obtain.
My rhyming style may have less power,
But all that matters is the hour.

For now I bid a fond adieu.
Rest in the knowledge:
I'll
crush
you

Oh, bring it on, dear friend of mine
I'm sure that you will soon resign
For after all, as you will see
This win? It now belongs to me
As will the crown, within due course
I hope you won't attempt to force
My hand, or else, that is to say
That you will not beat me today.

I'll beat you now and win forever
And, my dear friend, that's 'cause I'm clever.
The win is mine I think you'll find
Because my skills leave you behind.
Trailing, clawing to catch up,
As I deign to rhyme up with cup.
Even this pathetic rhyme
will prove beyond much doubt that I'm
the victor of this little game
so please withdraw your wrongful claim.

Victor, perhaps, but not for long
You see, my dear, you are quite wrong
For I am here, the victor still
The only one to fit the bill
Your beverage vessel rhymes amuse
But you will ultimately lose
For I have, what I call, the win
It kicked your last post in the shin
And like a pigeon, and a shoe
It killed it dead, and I beat you.

I have to say, you could be right:
Your rhyming verse has such a bite.
I will fight on as best I may
Until I reach my dying day.
When I am done you can rule
But until then, you absurd fool,
I vow to fight: I never lose.
So, play on or submit: which do you choose?

The choice, no doubt, is clear to all
Your pride simply precedes your fall
Like Sherlock did when Jimmy died
Or the Ponds... MOFFAT! (I cried)
But try to push the feels away
At least to give me time to say
That you will not deter me, friend
And I will fight until the end.

You mention events which caused me trauma
I must attempt to think of warmer
Times and look towards a future bright
Lest feels consume my mind this night.
So I say unto you, my cold-hearted friend
This title's one I'll sure defend.
For in memory of those we've shipped,
And those who Moffat's thrown off cliffs
I fight for what is by rights mine
And you'll take second, I'm sure that's fine.

I must admit, they hurt me too
The writers' cruelty, through and through
The ships I've shipped will never sink
Though they've been pushed right to the brink
Where mere mortals fear to tread
(And most of them are now half-dead)
But nonetheless, we shall push on
Even if dear Jim is gone
And Sherlock, Gabe and River Song
And Mitchell too, unless I'm wrong
This list could last a thousand days
But let us look to better ways
For all of those that lost the fight
I now proclaim, as is my right
This win is mine, I'll shout it loud,
As ghosts of fandoms gather 'round.

I win. That is all.

Nice try, but your victory is no more.

Alas poetry my forte is not,
My couplets read like a 4 year old clot.
My lyrical waxing is practically a crime,
And never ever ask me to rhyme.
I play this game, hoping to win,
but all the while causing a din.
Try as I might, my muse will not smile,
So all day long my poems are vile.
But at least now I have Engineering to do,
Which doesn't involve poetry, I bid you adieu.

It's been a while, dear friend of mine
Since last I spoke to you
By chance, I stumbled back online
Found somewhere I once knew
Where dust has settled, I'll confess
But memories abound
Of bittersweet nostalgia, yes,
But also friendship found

So though this forum slumbers here
And though we seem bereft
Let none of us shed yet a tear
For some of us are left
It's up to us to shrug off strife
To once more fill this space
I say we bring it back to life
And resurrect this place.

An era has ended,
A song has been sung.
Many battles fought,
A few of them won.
Sometimes it's a heart break,
Some-days it's even fun.
But it all comes to an end,
Leaving the smoking gun.

I suspect I shall be winning for a while....

Fair enough, I think i'll let you keep winning then

Now that was just mean

I feel like a change of leader is in order

Indeed, all hail President Ben!

QUEEN AGGIE HAS RETURNED!

I told you, we're an anarcho-syndicalist commune. We take it in turns to be a sort of executive officer for the week...

but... but... I'm a queen. All hail?


YAAASS I AM THE SECOND TO LAST POSTER. HAIL BISTED, FOR HE IS GOD.

Muh Huh Hah ha, puny mortal, with your titles, what's a Queen to a God?

I definitely don't have a superiority complex....