.
Walking in the forest was I
when I heard a plaintiff cry
begging me to give her aid
a desperate and 'prisoned maid.

Locked up in a tower was she
all alone with her misery.
“I'll let my long hair down for thee
to climb up here and rescue me”.

I thought this was a little unwise,
a wicked glint tinged my eyes,
a knowing smile, and feeling smug,
I gave her hair a hefty tug.

Down she fell into my arms,
muttering curses, gushing charms.
Over and over we tumbled for fun
rolling about in the midday sun.

I noticed the rip in her dress
so her thigh I did fondly caress.
Respond in kind she promptly felt,
loosening off my trouser belt.

And her father's lock on her chastity
was no match for my skeleton key.
Even though he'd chained the door,
his daughter is a maiden no more.


© Pagan Paul (2017)

I hear breathing and scratching under my bed, which sends an icy chill that would wake the dead.
A faint moaning springs from under my bed, it freezes my heart as I pray for a quick death.
My toes are out in the cold and they are very exposed, quick, quick can I drag them in?
I look over the side of the bed to see a pair of eyes blinking in dread.
As I realized to my heart's content it's just my kitten cowering under the recesses of my bed.

The American people have been Punked
His name is Donald Trump

©Pauline Russell

The town of Bakewell is under siege, gingerbread men are running free.
The bakers scream. Oh please, oh please save us our brave king, but the brave king is at a loss, for no one in the court has a thought.
When in the back of the court a small voice did say, I will save the town my way.
My boy, my boy what will you do. I will eat my way through, I love gingerbread and so do you.
The gingerbread men screamed and yelled, oh please, oh please don't eat us our brave king.
But it was too late, the  boy and king had gobbled their fill! Oh my brave boy you have saved Bakewell!

I was having a conversation with the Gerber baby the other day. You know, the one on the jars. Interestingly enough, he simply would not stop giggling. You know and here I am trying to get an answer out of him. But, he would not budge. "What's so funny, baby?" I inquired. {giggles, giggling and more giggles.} Well! What is it? He's not talking. Maybe it has something to do with the peas and carrots or the applesauce. I just could not understand his incoherent dribbling. I guess the joke is on me. I just hope he doesn't make me wear any of it. Oh boy! is he a happy camper.