The Little Mermaid ValentineI longed to take you into my arms and draw you into my world. I watched you from afar, saw you sing and dance along the waves. I saw your friends, and I saw when you were alone. I saw your skin gleam in the salty water, taking in the shining light but never outshining your eyes.Today is Valentine's Day. Were you surprised that I remembered that, my love? Your eyes were shocked when you first saw me. You were caught; I was a part of another world, one that you barely believed in. But they say a smile is universal. I smiled, and you smiled back. A nervous twitch, and you were mine. There it was- my answer. You loved me too. So I decided then
Lament of the SuperzeroI'd like to be like Batman, but I don't look good in tights. I'd like to be like Superman, but for my fear of heights.Spiderman would be ideal, but eight legs make me cringe, And I really do not think that I could wear Boy Wonder's fringe. I have so many costumes that I love the chance to wearBut saving the world from evil? Well, I simply couldn't care. So Iron Man is out- a shame- as is the X-men crew(Although they might not have their costumes in size twenty-two.) So what about Catwoman, I hear your voices cry-Well, the costume might be slightly tight when worn by any guy. A quandary, I'm sure you'll find, as I must beco
Once: SarraIf Sarra was going to choose one moment in her life to recall, it would have begun with the smell of smoke. Her whole life seemed to be lit by flames- sometimes the warm, distant flicker where life begins, sometimes the growing inferno where it ends. Looking back at her life was difficult- a brief breath of being, shrouded in the ash of forgotten mortality. It was something that her husband couldn't understand. Or perhaps he wouldn't. Human memories are designed to smoulder, not to blaze for all eternity. An immortal would burn through a lifetime of memories in a moment and not stop to see where the ashes landed. Sarra did. It was often unexp
Once: PeachblossomHuh. So you're thinking, just because I'm a horse, I don't have one of these memory things? Well, shows what you know, doesn't it? Just because you humans don't know how to listen doesn't mean I can't speak, despite what some long-faced pages might think. I'd give 'em a sharp nip for their troubles, and the same would go for you if I were talking to you, rather than to this papery stuff. Apparently it can keep words in one place 'til they're needed. Sounds suspicious to me. If you keep on talking too long in one place, you'll get in trouble. There'll be bandits, or soldiers, or those furry spidery things, and then you'd be in trouble, friend.
Snow WhiteThere was a lady, long agoWho wished for skin as white as snowHer hair as dark as crow's black headHer lips a luscious ruby red...A common maid, but rich to wedSo tradesman took the maid to bedThru' marriage dull she yearned to know-What if my skin was white as snow?And as the lass grew large with childHer white-eyed fancies grew more wild:-A thousand jewels would crown my headIf but my lips would bloom more redAlas, her baby turned too fastAnd dreaming maid, she breathed her lastAnd lay upon her pallet bedBathed in ruby birthing redHer hair hung lank and dark as tarHer eyes stared blank at jewels afarShe s
Brain in a JarIf this world be but illusionAnd dreams the path I treadPlease wake me when I've clothes onAnd not when I'm in bed.
Description Game 1A man and a woman walk down a street. They do not touch each other or look at each other. They do not speak. From time to time they may acknowledge the other one by a quick glance, by holding a door open for a split second, but this is the extent of their contact. They don't hold hands or laugh or sing or whisper in the rain or anything that we are raised to expect lovers to do.Why should they? They might not even be lovers. They may be friends, relatives, acquaintances. They might be cousins or siblings or a father and child. But in their silence and isolation they are completely assured of their position to the other person. They know tha
Can you Read my Madness?Can you read my madness when it's written down?Let me help you, here The lack of punctuation, perhapsDisjointed phrasesReek ofA Disordered mindBut that's somehow not rightHow do you see my madness? It is structured.My mind is logical, it clings to patternsAnd despises these cheap tricks of mentalityWhich you read in novels and poems and think, "Here, this phrase has one less syllableSurelyHere isAn un-BalancedIndividual...The blood-red stench of a slaughtered metaphorSlathered in the froth of gratuitous languageWhile the poetess herself- ah, defying conventionNot to be a poet, but to cling to her femi