I ventured once to see a mystic man about some hidden truthseeking answers to a burning question festering since my youth.Doubt and confusion accompanied me as I made my wayto heed warnings by the great and brave and all they had to say.They told there tales while trembling of what he had in storethe horrors and great evils and of things he's done before.Still I knew this was mine to do and to do my self-alonecrooked was the path that leads me to the wizard's home.Ashen dry and drying weeds and thorns most everywhererotting wood and stony rock assured the trail stayed bare.A chill of wind and smoky smell filled the graying skyI turned to see a fleeing shadow pass so closely by.Knocking branches and rustling leaves was all the noise I heardExcept for the call or the hoot of a hunting bird.All I had to keep me safe was my coat and walking caneI sang aloud a travelers song to keep me brave and sane.My walking pace stayed as quick as my beating heartNever allowing fear it's chance was the hardest part.Entering the land that was the wizards glowed with energyinstead of leaves all the trees were filled with electricity.Every rock tumbled and rolled the grass did a graceful danceeven the clouds high in the sky were caught in some odd trance.And there before me stood a castle shining like the sunit sat between the start of day and before the night was done.Before my knock the heavy doors unlocked swinging slowly widehow badly was my wish to flee or find some place to hide.Like a reluctant soul made to return back into it's graveI entered dressed in an untailored fit disguised as one whose brave.A vestibule of gleaming stone appeared before my darting eyeextending beyond my gaze away from me, towering just as high.And centered in the great hall way were stairs made in crystal glassflanking on both it's sides were polished railings of golden brass.The massive doors that had led me in loudly thundered as they shutI swallowed hard on my escaping courage till it knotted in my gut.As I turned the room had changed to a dimly lit foreboding placeThe vestibule along with the doors had vanished without a trace.Standing in a snow-white robe was the one I came to seewithout a sound or expression he stared coldly back at me.Between us drifted a fog like mist over a cauldron dark and deepreleasing buried thoughts in my mind could I no longer keep.Looking deep within the vat I seen the real that lies in sidethe very thing I feared the most and worked so hard to hide.I seen what consequences I would face should I release my other selfthe friends I'd loose the loss of love the changes to my wealth.So different would my life had been the chances, joys and dangerif I had switched places with my self and gave-in to be the stranger.To the mystic man my life was as a book one he before had readno sooner was a question imagined did its answer fill my head.So why am I, whom I am, what made me the person I am now?To know who you are is all that matters and not the why or how.But still there exists with in each of us a person we cannot denypretend it away and say it isn't there is like trying to live out a lie.It's there for a reason a second chance or to offer another choiceand screams out at you so strong and so private in a tiny suggestive voice.Worship not at an alter built to praise the deceptive alter egoreversed and perversed it's promised life in darkened paths to follow.In the end you are who you are and who you were always meant to bedespite any changes you would have been you but only eventually.The mist billowed up from the vat and filled the room till nothing could be seenI arose just to find the morning sunshine and the end of another dream.
My Grandmother's Story
Friday, July 25, 2008, 07:57 PM [General]
"I've kept it a secret, but for you I wiil tell,What happened a long time ago, still I remember it well." That's how the story began, as did all my grandmother's stories. On this how ever she told with a kind of urgent conviction, as if she needed me to truly believe. She was your typical grandmother, you know baking, bedmaking, gardening, that sort of thing. But when it came to story telling none were better. Little did I know that the times we spent together would later be my most cherished memories. As usual I fought against sleep but with my grandmother's calm voice to distract me and little else it was a battle already lost. Rocking slowly back and fourth I watched her and her shadow keep time with the rhythm of her tale. She never read from any book, instead the things she told could only be found in dreams. And it was my dreams I put them back. The bed felt a little softer when ever she made it up for me and my midnight snack of cookies and milk became sweeter with her touch. To this day nothing ever tasted or felt as good. I lay there in the warm embrace of my bed and comforting sounds of that sweet old lady. In a voice cracked with age she continued."Out past the town, beyond the meadows and treesto a place known only by birds and small bumble bees.Where flowers make colors bright as a rainbowand perfumes the air when the wind gently blows.The breeze was also filled with the songs of the birdsin chorus they sang with high chirping words.Moss covered the trees as they reached for the skythat was bluer than blue with clouds drifting by.To a pond ran a stream with frogs leaping nearit's cool water refreshed the fox and the deer.It was this place I had found, one day on my ownso far back into the woods, so far from my home.I followed a path made by squirrle's tiny feetalong I found berries that were juicy and sweet.Only once did I stop to have a good laughas I watched a slow moving turtle cross over my path.Then off I went with a pace that was quickwhile tapping the ground with my walking stick.Finally I grew tired so I decided to stopI glimpsed the small jump of a rabbits scared hop.But what flew off his back was the strangest of thingsfor lying on the ground was a fairy with a bent wing.Cautiously I crept to where she still lay"Are you all right?" Was all I could say.With a tear in her eye caused by her wing's hurtshe brushed off grass leaves and pieces of dirt.And then in song she spoke softly to mewhile I towered over her as tall as a tree."I beg you please, I need your help,"her pain and fear I suddenly felt." Interupting my grandmother I tiredly asked, "What did you do grand mom?" Slowly she leaned in close and tucked the blanket tightly around me. As if I were in her arms, I felt my body melt into the soft blankets hug. This was the kind of magic that only a grandmother can make. She eased herself back and with a faint smile she continued."I told the little fairy, "Don't go any where,"as I gathered two leaves and the bow from my hair.I placed her bent wing between the two leavesthey were held with my bow, the fairy was pleased.For the rest of the day, together we playedbut the shadows grew long as light started to fade."How do I get home?" I said with a tearin my voice the fairy heard the sound of my fear."Hold me close," the fairy said, "You'll see with my glow,""I'll light up the path making it easy to follow."Before long I was home but it was dark and latethrough the window I saw my mother nervously wait.Back in my hair returned the ribbon bow tieno longer needed, the fairy now able to fly.I entered my home, my mother happy and madgone were the small fairy and the fun that we had.My mother's replied to what happened that day"Just forget you ever saw it, it's better that way." Gathering the last of my waking energy I asked, "Why did she say that grand mom?" Exhausted and shaky she answered, "I scared her so bad when I came home so late." With a sigh and a pause she said in a sad low voice, "My dear, it's a scare only a parent can feel." I barely heard the words when sleep finally took me. I remember waking to my mother lying close to me. Her eyes red and swollen betraying the smile she desperately tried to make. I remember the tears that rolled down her cheeks as she spoke of a better place and how happy grand mom now was. But most of all I remember everything my grand mother said. I tell her tales now to my grand child from notes I made to better remember. And as each is read I save the place I left off with a ribbon once worn in my grand mother's hair.
Made a small contribution to The Unseelie Court group
Thursday, July 3, 2008, 07:49 AM [General]
It's a poen called An Enslaved Succubus. Love to get some feed back.
The July and August Fairies
Monday, June 30, 2008, 06:05 PM [General]
The two most playful fairies of the month's are in August and July.Spending there days in games and funas they soar in the summer sky.How irresponsible and so carefreethese twin sisters have become.With not a concern nor worry in the worldon how anything is to be done.Children these two will forever be never wishing to fully mature.Pranks and jokes and fooling aroundwhile achieving nothing more.Sometimes in play they can go too fartill Mother Natures nerves are worn.Scolding the two for there childish waysin the form of a thunderstorm.But still there nature is the summera careless time to live.A chance to fiddle and frolica diversion from life's worries it gives.And who hasn't felt the stir within to step back a couple of years.Most when hearing the sound of playing childrenringing within the ears.For Mother Nature this is the very reasonshe lets them play there little games.Summer is made for all childrenwithout them it wouldn't be the same.
The Summer Fairy
Friday, June 20, 2008, 09:27 PM [General]
Honey blond hair of the summer fairy shineswith a radiant glow like the sun filled sky.And when in lightning flashes of the darkest storm reflect her wet tresses as they gently dry.The mountains, valleys and hills are green and aliveas she soars high above so carefree.A princess whose kingdom is a warm bright worldstreching as far as the eye can see.Blessed with flight made on silken wingsextending beyond the reach of her arms.Making also her way on light graceful bare feet a dancer skilled at performing her charms.Clothed in white linen and of silks and of laceher gowns are made to adorn such a queen.Freshly picked flowers make up her royal crowna lovely vision born from a beautiful dream.If by chance you were to stop and give your self-resta need the soul cries for after drearier days.You may indeed glimpse the pure essence of summer as she passes through the suns golden rays