• Member Since 25th Feb, 2013
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Titanium Dragon

TD writes and reviews pony fanfiction, and has a serious RariJack addiction. Send help and/or ponies.


Maud Pie has written thousands of poems.

Here are some of her poems.

They're about rocks.

Featured by the Royal Canterlot Library and the Royal Guard.

Chapters (20)
Comments ( 385 )

How hilarious! I need to give this to my science teacher for extra credit :eeyup:

I love these things. They rock

D'awwww! :pinkiehappy:

Or when in a muffin basket, apparently. I'll bet quartz was the decor on Rarity's godawful hat.:raritydespair:

Pink rocks, right? :pinkiesad2:

This poetry is totally underground.
It is also on top of the ground,
And sometimes is the ground.
Poetry of the ground,
It rocks.

I shall never take you for granite, Titanium.
take my like.

Reading rock poems for a laugh.
I laughed, reading rock poems.
Until I read this one.
Then there were surprise feels.
This poem was not about rocks.

These are:

Absolutely grand.


Hmm, this one actually reads nicely for a poem. I dig it!

Rocks. 2edgy4me. Especially this one.

This has been oddly addictive and like eating a chip, you can't just read one.

Shame there wasn't a poem about obsidian lava rock (aka the sharp shiny black rock that Aztec weapons were made from), obsidian is awesome.

Okay, now I'm reading them aloud in Maud's voice...

That's cute... :heart:

This poem. So many feels.

This one is my favourite :pinkiesad2:

Those were all spectacular. :pinkiehappy:

I especially liked "Sand" and "Understanding Rocks" :twilightsmile:

Very entertaining, insightful, and heart wrenching. :pinkiesad2:

Looking forward to more. I also wrote a few poems about rocks. I'd be delighted if you were to check them out. :scootangel:

Don't take it for granite!

I'll see myself out.

Truer words were never written. :rainbowlaugh:

The best one yet:pinkiesmile:

Best one, definitely the best one. :pinkiesad2:

Didn't Pinkie metamorphosisize, in a way?

da meaning....

Brilliant! All of them! Number fourteen (can't remember the title) was the best. The first couple made me laugh, but the fourteenth one made me think and gave me feels.

This was an especially brilliant one. :pinkiehappy:

This reminds me quite a bit of "Alberto Caeiro", one of the personas of the portuguese poet Fernando Pessoa. A bunch were surprisingly good and insightful, but even the others had a very unique and interesting flow.

This was genuinely sweet.

For a moment I thought this was a Minecraft reference.

This is good. Have a thumbs up and a fav.

Heavy metal is loud
They should have called it rock.
But metals are not rocks
So they shouldn't call it rock.

i just get who is Maud Pie! She is grown up pony version of Wednsday Addams

i like rocks and some one shuld make a poetry about rock music and a song a bout rocks. i made a poem about rocks
Rocks are rocks
They rock
Like a rock
They're a rock
I like rocks.

I teared up a bit. So sweet.

This is so deep it's practically bedrock.

This one is my favorite. That Author's Note... :rainbowlaugh: TD, you're the best.

"Thank you granite." was a simple stroke of genius.

I enjoyed these poems.

Here I was, reading through these and laughing along... I was not ready for #14.

Very nice collection--very Maud-esque. It made for a nice Monday follow-up to the episode!

*Snaps fingers*

Holy shit! I did not know soil was made of rocks.

Rocks that have died, decayed and turned to something new.

More experiments should be made, Maude- err, TD. There is constant life from the death of a rock, and more life from the death of the soil... a cycle, eternal.

Wait... rock>soil>mud

This is my favorite poem


it isn't really about rocks, is it?

Not gonna lie, got this idea from another Maud story, but isn't it possible that Boulder once could have been a boulder?

A boulder gets shoved around as the earth shifts, knocking chunks of it off until it eventually lands in a river, where it lands in a river with a great ker-splash! over time, the river manages, with great effort and much flooding at where its banks were once narrow, to roll the boulder off into a waterfall. The boulder lands at the base of the waterfall, where it lands at it's base, splashing water everywhere.

The boulder stays at the bottom of the waterfall for a long time, constantly pelted with water and heavier debris, like other apathetic rocks who have slowly drifted down the river to cause their own eras of mass flooding. Over time, the boulder is scratched at and worn down into a small pebble until it's half the size of a hoof.

Eventually, the half-hoof-sized rock floats down the rest of the river to a bank, where it's constantly eroded and eaten further. After another eternity (although not as long as the previous), it gets lodged in the muddy banks of a calm fork in the river, buried deep in it.

Another eternity later, that mud is dug up and hauled to the Pie rock farm, where it is found much later by a small grey filly who was digging in the dry, chaffing dirt. She sniffs and observes the small abrasions and scratches, each one telling a story of the pebble's life. A dim spark of interest lights up in the filly's head.

With not an upturn of the corners of her eyes or mouth, nor even the sound of a girly squeal of excitement, she takes up the pebble in her mouth with all the grace of a grazing rhino and trudges to her room calmly.

Inside, her heart is beating a bajillion miles per hour, excitement and happiness soaking her over her and over.

She sets the pebble on the table in her room "I'm going to name you boulder." There is the slightest raising of pitch from her normally gravel-like voice as she smiles for the briefest of moments.

Inside, her heart's still pounding with joy.

Yet it yielded a lot of nutritional value, I guess.

What was once art is now food. Maximum value, those clothes made from fruit leather be damned.

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