My ideal reader must like Tamora Pierce, Terry Pratchett, And Josephine Tey Though I don’t write magic, Or comedy, or mystery; yet These are my best fit. I think my audience will be small.   Form and prompt: Write a sevenling.

Come to the place where nature’s blessings flow We’ll settle in a life long left behind To play the music fast, and sing it slow The world outside may scream and fall apart But it can’t hurt us living in the past. Reality’s become a…

Locked in and locked out both at once; So slow, I convinced I’m a dunce In all the social niceties. Some friends help, other like to tease the encumbrance. Locked in when I can’t leave my bed For the pain in my back, legs, and…

I see through many other eyes And feelings share as though inside The heads and hearts of beasts and men I am when dreaming, now and then. I walked in Tudor times again As someone’s loyal and trusted friend. A family of monstrous men And…

Night Dark sky Stark and wide From the bright city But bid the lights goodbye, And see dark skies blossom pretty Points of light, becoming clouds of bitty Distant fires, or rocks in space reflecting light From the hidden sun, behind the gritty Bulk of…

Idealists know that the hero must win And pessimists know that ideals are for fools Suffering brings its own wisdom, of sorts, But maturity comes when ideals are regained. Fresh-faced and kind-hearted, Flat-footed and dim, Idealists know that the hero must win. Betrayed and abandoned,…

An iamb is inherently a paradox of poetry Transparently trochaic, it cannot contain itself. Poor thing, it is Its own antithesis, and as such might be my spiritual synthesis As I am, also, set against myself; depicting what I am not Form fascinates me, yet…