Poem: Glass Dance

On glass floor does one oft dance,
A wind imparting, a lasting chance.

For ever adrift in the bogged moor,
That bonds remain, forevermore.

Alone in the darkness will the doll thus ponder,
But in the shadows, were they meant to wander.

A Cheshire smile in the twilight gloom.
That does uneasily rise, as the crescent moon.

A spiteful grin, but a mockery true.
That always will she dance, forever rue.

Poem: Whale Blimp

The Whale Blimp, a small prototype project for a friend's upcoming birthday. Almost complete, just need a hoop to set up the mobile. Then he'll be sailing for different skies soon!

---

Whale Blimp

The Tail of a whale,

A whale blimp he may be, but no whimp is he, for
he had the heart the size of a whale's!

who wanted to sail--

--And sail he did through the sky,
Up on the clouds, so very high.

A little blimp, in lofty breeze.
To sail the winds, the skies his seas.

The ocean could not contain him, oh no!
For nay, he knew awaited, the limitless sky!

And up, up he went,
On his fins that were airborne meant.

The oceans of past, and skies today, tomorrow, who knows? Perhaps even space,
Because for him, to him, there were no lows.

For he was no whimp!
But a whale blimp!

---

Revision (March 11, 2017

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The Tail of a whale,

who wanted to sail--

Carrying my signature bomb. I like
to blow my friends away.

--And sail he did through the sky,

Up on the clouds, so very high.

A little blimp, in lofty breeze.

To sail the winds, the skies his seas.

The ocean could not contain him, oh no!

For the blue expanse, was above and below.

And he knew awaited, the limitless sky! 

So very high, that he need must fly!

And up, up he went,

On his fins that were airborne meant.

The oceans of past, and skies today, tomorrow, who knows? 

Perhaps even space, for to him, he knew not the lows.

For he was no whimp! 

But a whale blimp!

---

p.s. I wanted to put in a pun about Little Wei being a hot air baleen, but I couldn't find anywhere to put it in.

Snippets and Stories: (WtI) Bitter Tears

She refused to meet their eyes.

Gone was her fiery and passionate personality, and the very air around her was heavy with defeat, deprived of the meager substance that had kept her head high and guarded her resolve for so long.

There was no anger left, no desire to continue fighting, struggling against the unrelenting face of adversity.

Snippets and Stories: (WtI) The Bridesmaid

Shyloris smiled at the dark lens. It whirred and shuttered, momentarily pinging, to let them know the picture had been taken.

To her right, Silas relaxed, and wandered off towards the refreshment table. Neiro though, was already talking excitedly, eager for the picture.

It was a small gathering, the few of them, Esti, Ken, Silas, Neiro, Cheshire, Lokius, and of course herself, would spend the day enjoying Thanksgiving, together as it should be.

A numbered few though they were, were far too many for her. It had been a long Time since she had partook of anything festivities, or any other social event for that matter.

Snippets and Stories: (WtI) The Last Door of Corridor 5354

What could possibly shake him--nay, her, so that he--bloody hell, she seemed to cower before that last door?

It stood there so innocently, not even truly locked like the rest of them had been.

Their stalwart companion who was as the flames themselves, such fiery passion and vigor that the very atmosphere nigh filled with color, with Life. That the selfsame person now shrunk away as if scorched by her own self and flame.

They would soon understand why it was to be one that could never be forgotten, no matter how many sheets one covered it with, not a multitude of rooms and doors, yellow tape, nor chains, bolts, and locks.

Bedtime

Silas doesn't like being woken up. Ever. He also doesn't like being kept up.

Silas Curse 

<Not a morning, noon, afternoon, evening, night, midnight, or any other bloody time of day person>

"Lights out jerkwads."

He is the monster who will barge into your room if your lights are still on past 10:00 p.m. and lob pillows at you before smashing your light switch and leaving you in the dark to grope your way into bed. He will also eat all the cookies in your cookie jar out of spite.

If you're still not in bed he'll come back to smack you in the face with a pillow to knock you out "help" you sleep. If a slap in the face from sleep still isn't enough he'll bludgeon you with it until you stop moving. (p.s. These pillows are stuffed with bricks.)

Silas is a little ball of grump and rage.

Poem: Hands Out

To you, a hand I extend,
In hopes to find a friend.

Though to most I am a bore,
Would that you see but more.

That in the crowds do I hide,
But the loneliness inside.

A smile on the lips,
A hand at the hips.

But to speak of a smile in mine eye,
Would be nothing, if not a lie.

So many stories have been told and heard,
To lend to the plight, of this little bird.

That one may take to wing,
And that the soul may sing.

That wherever she goes,
May that always she knows.

That beloved is she,
And forever may it be.