"blustery" poems
Royalty
She dwells in the sea- green palace of her father
The mermaid swam alone on blustery days
The seed of the water god Neptune and a river nymph
Her beauty blind the sun and his morning rays
On days of boredom
She swam with the white dolphins
Riding high on heaving rolling waves
Other times with Omura's whales dive deep
Or play in a red coral reef bay
Tickling blue ***** that walked on the sandy bottom
Exploring the dark octopus caves
Floating often with the deadly jellyfish
Keeping her scaled tail very still
Or wiggling through the raging currents of the ocean
With the graceful ribbon eels
The day passed passed
She became weary
Came time to rest her head
Returned to the flowing green kelp palace
And did sleep on a starfish bed
All Rights Reserved @Tammy M Darby August 2013.
All Material Stored in Author Base
Aug 10, 2013
Aug 10, 2013 at 6:43 PM UTC
And so the green balloons did grow
Inflated, nurtured over time,
This tree of air
Nitrogen,
Oxygen,
Carbon
Dioxide,
Argon,
Traces of other gases too,
Out side was warm
Internal temp minus triple degrees,
What had been barren branches
Now sustained as these
Strings matured forth
Buds of latex and rubber grew,
Liquid air exhaled as the buds nurtured
Air expanded with warm the green balloons
Grew
&
Grew
Sprung forth in to life what once was
Small, now expanded fuelled by the
Cold fuel of the tree of white,
In the winds they did gesture
As if dancing putting on a show
Tree,
Branch,
String,
Green balloons flourished there veins
Feeding air anew,
Blustery winds picked up
Strings did snap, green balloons did
Float away, drifting upon high
Into a sea of blue,
But as seasons change,
Green balloons became loose
Many floated away to places new
Those that did not,
Deflated,
Depleted,
Exhausted,
Nourishment of air, no longer green ballons
Phenomenon's of gases changed
And green faded now this tree of air
Brought forth new shades of
Yellows,
Purples,
Black,
Oranges,
So these colours did fall from the tree,
Floating not as before,
They did descend, slowly to the floor,
Biodegradable. they did fade
From view, not what they were before,
The life cycle of these green balloons
The tree of white grows evermore cold,
For seasons change and green balloons will
Grow again next spring floating in the air once more.
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 6:15 PM UTC
A pleasantly bubbling creak murmurs softly, complacently flowing as a creak does, day in and day out
By the crumbling bank stands a strong willow tree, rooted by the prolfic stream
Thoughtlessly taking the water of which it needs, a simple commodity to a tree of such stature and poise
And gracefully, beautifully shivering at the base of his trunk, there lives a daisy, white and pure
The willows roots indulge themselves, thirsting, thirsting for more
Negligent to the flower below who makes its view that much more lovely
Than just a simple stream, and who provides to the animals and children a blustery smile
Beckoning them to the shade where they might play and the daisy might watch over them
And as the roots take and take they choke the misguided flower, leave her to wither
One soft petal falls to the grass rendering her no more than a tainted ****
No child will ever present her to his good mother now
Not now that she is no longer the pure beauty she once was, not with such an imperfection
And though she may beg for mercy, she must weaken and give herself to the strong roots of the willow
Until she is but a dying cause with browned stale edges and though she lay so close to life, stable life
She does not possess the power to take rein so she the sage awaits the logger in silent knowingness
Nov 9, 2014
Nov 9, 2014 at 9:52 PM UTC
There was an old man, I once knew
Peaches was the name he used
He was the drunk, set on our trunk
his body old and abused
Sharing his beer with an old horse
who caroused in the end stall
Each day by three, they'd walk by me
and stumble but never fall
His liver was a lace doily
alcohol pickled him thin
He'd been turned down, all over town
no one ever took him in
He drank his beer with ole Nellie
she could tip a bottle too
Swig and sway, like Don Quixote
as they staggered, swirling, brew
We were headed for the races
this blustery afternoon
Each planned the trip, we had to ship
I knew we'd be leaving soon
From where we trained at the fairground
we carted them to the track
Where all would race, and take what place
each earned in front or in back
Peaches rode in back of the truck
so he could drink the whole way
My uncle said, he'd soon be dead
drinking had seen his decay
We sat apart from others there
he and I were best of pals
He'd tell me tales, of life’s travails
while I ogled all the gals
That day he shared a sordid tale
of pain he caused his own son
He had shouldered blame, bore the shame
for this thing that he had done
Back when he was just a young man
a pillar of support
He took his boy, his life’s great joy
to play their favorite sport
They went to a picnic that day
he had drank one too many
On the way, to watch his son play
of fears he hadn't any
His boy was riding in the back
not thinking they skipped the seat belt
He'd rolled his car, the door ajar
surprise was all he had felt
His boy was tossed out in a field
sweet clover of timothy
The child's light hair, seen lying there
remembered so vividly
"I was a Veterinarian"
said Peaches to my surprise
"I went insane, called out in vain
but God never heard my cries"
"So now I ride where I belong
In back of my self-made bar
Hoping he, will come to take me
by tossing me from the car"
Just then a tear fell from his cheek
the pain enveloped me too
Here cried a man, much deeper than
any of us ever knew
Tate
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 2:12 PM UTC
Mammy never owned a dryer,
She would always use the fire
To dry clean clothes for her eight kids,
Who played in pants as if on stilts,
Wore Goodwill shirts like cardboard fibre.
We'd no money for laundromats,
Immigrants don't waste like that;
We made the move from Ireland,
Turned our backs, washed our hands;
Chose Sarnia to make our home.
Yes, Mammy washed our clothes with stones;
She'd string lines from wall to wall,
And draped our patchwork overalls.
In autumn, winter and early spring,
Our house was strung with clothes line string;
Socks dropped on chairs near heating vents,
Every room had ***** like tents.
One day Daddy stretched a line
From our back porch
To the farthest pine.
Looped the wire on a tubeless rim,
Secured the ends with linchpins.
Mammy was so pleased with him.
We four saw what he'd done,
He'd made a ride for his sons.
We were gliding like clothes drying,
Riding down the yard.
Flapping, laughing, having fun,
Like human clothes under the sun;
We , however, were burdensome,
The line gave up, and we fell hard.
On blustery days when sheets are snapping,
I recall the clothes line cracking,
Our fall from grace had nothing lacking.
Oh, I remember he chastised,
But I also remember
Daddy's eyes,
And how they smiled
When he told his friends
He hung his sons
Out to dry.
Aug 5, 2015
Aug 5, 2015 at 12:57 PM UTC
It's 6pm,
anxiously waiting till its 8pm,
For the voice of magic,
that magnifies my heart from so many miles away,
This is my confession your voice is perfection,
I love the way you alter those words of affection,
Without going down memory lane,
Butterflies in my belly doing the flip floppy thing like a lolly,
As I feel your sweet melodious voice,
Solidify & Stir-up in my heart,
I wanna radically alter my thought,
I'm astonished by your rapid transformation of words
To be sincere,
If the sea where to be a burning fire &
the blustery wind were to blow it profusely
Like a stormy rain of volcano upon the land,
I will never leave,
I will always be on nigeria info,
Where I get all the info,
the purest of creativity you deliver,
you diva,
When I tune-in in the evening,
you Ignite my heart
Your eyes are the kaleidoscope,
to my ever moving colorful world of reality,
Let me leave for now,
I will be back soon by night,
I think others are in anxiety,
Trying to drop in,
Their beautiful words of human creativity.
Aug 19, 2013
Aug 19, 2013 at 7:55 PM UTC
My quest began, before Inquisitive questionnaires, questioned my solicitude.
I traveled round the globe, In search of a Gold, to meet my goal.
In frnt of me, stood a beautiful angel, with a beautiful body.
,nothing wil hold me baq,
the way she walked was so dramatic, which made her attractive, by love I became assertive, but her vioce was fantastic, So I grew attentive, In other to be romantic, which made me sarcastic.
her smile waz beautiful, Which made me Boastful, but yet doubtful, I became Playful, I Never knew she was powerful
her luscious gigantic figure, was Perfectly executed to perfection, Suddenly I became frantic, Now I have to be more strategic.
i only grew anxious, which made her precarious. i turned perplexed, while she remained unagitated, her behavior waz sassy. i grew crazy,
the meaning of loneliness, was created frm her lovely eyes, i wish you could see the angel I see when you stand in front of me, i fell in love with someone, Who separated me frm everyone,
i adore how u make me smile, even from so many miles away, you energize me in standing up tall, Love me again like you did the first day You are pretty, you are sweet, but im still a bit naïve with my heart"
If d sea were to be a burning fire under d sun, and the blustery wind were to blow it, profusely like a stormy rain f volcano, upon d land, i will never leave.
i will always be there for you, i am your little friend, i will always be in love with you, all the way till the end, My eyes blinked twice, Fully opened in tears
Tonite my heart seems in pieces, My eyes drop tears that itches, Now I am here making wishes , Trying to picture u near me within inches.
It was only a dream!
Jul 16, 2013
Jul 16, 2013 at 8:12 PM UTC
At last the sun decided to recede,
and dismal clouds suddenly appeared;
In grey-green puffs of swirling smoke,
while crystal rain fell down in tears.
The night seemed in an endless whirl,
of lightning bolts and blustery winds;
I closed my eyes when thunder raged,
and pulled the covers to my chin.
My room appeared as black as coal,
its shadows foretelling ageless tales;
Of great mysteries from ancient times,
while words dissolved into ghastly wails.
Soon awakened from restless slumber,
with profound relief at what I saw;
The burnished golden bloom of day,
as summer had turned into shining Fall.
Aug 2, 2016
Aug 2, 2016 at 6:10 PM UTC
Behold a glance at mother earth, you’re a witness to her fall.
A tortuous act of uncertainty a rage against all those who step
Upon her slovenly ground. A lash of ardent air that’s tears
Her golden limbs down.
As soda pop bottles reel through her grass
As a fawn come to inspect its newest injury
The top do the bottle rolls onto the damp ground
For she has been crying, a blustery song.
Her waterfall carries a small tangled duckling
Wrapped in an armor of fisherman’s wire.
She weeps some more wishing to stop the river.
As children stamp on the pedals of her waters reeds.
A cloud of beastly darkness overlooks a city
And her children cough to keep safe
From this monstrous beast.
She tries to cover their ears with a howl cry
To tell them to stop, or else she will die.
One petal stands on a daisy’s bud,
Her last child picks it away…let it float
Through the air to mothers hand…a reminder of home
When sons and daughters cared.
Dec 5, 2011
Dec 5, 2011 at 1:05 PM UTC
The fleeing clouds have cleansed the tawny earthen meadows
Migrating sun doth steal away waning light of summer’s glee
High atop fir boughs bow in wind whispered homage
To the sapience the coloured leaves hath gleaned
The sweet scent of auburn brindled pinecone clusters
Ooze of glistening pitchy resinous fruit
Sticky figured squirrels chatter while they gather,
Stashing a survival cache of acorns and spinner seeds,
For another moment in sleepy winter tide dreams
A swirling eddy of spiraling leaves whirl beneath the tall timber
Fluttering gracefully with a gravity only falling leaves embolden
Enchanting like the evanescent timbre poignant piano notes decay
Writhing silent as summer Jasmine’s fragrant final bloom
Dandelion wishes soaring higher to kiss the fleeting winged skies
Lazily adrift up and over Cascade Mountain Crest
Fuzzy treetop flyers ascending far beyond darting dragonflies below
The sliver of golden harvest moon’s blossom aglow ,…
While wishing upon a shooting star's paling gleams
Serendipity sown about whimsically in the blustery wind
For to sow the will of untamed heart’s desires
A festive troop of Chickadees clinging like tiny acrobats
Foraging on ripened ginger hued fir-cone seeds
Wings to the sky wave goodbye to the deciduous cadence
Softly wafting with a pungent Lavender potion scented breeze
There is a secret place where memories go to hide deeply alive
Amongst the wild wood and impending leafless trees,
The only place on earth I've ever understood a sense of belonging
Where Autumn coloured leaves whisper in the gentle breeze ,…
“I would do it all over again”
Come September ,..when the leaves come falling down
© ... September 15th, 2016
Sep 28, 2017
Sep 28, 2017 at 10:47 AM UTC
The blustery east wind
gathers the fragrant
Warm Springs
high desert
mountain sage,
cascading
downhill
through
Dry Creek pass
surging downward
from above
the Hood River valley,
with breath of sky's bouquet
of billowing
aromatic avalanche,
gushing
of heaven's zephyr
The poignant
sudden starkness
of fiery autumn leaves
letting go
whirling ― falling
helter skelter,
pushed urgently
flying westbound,
beckoned franticly
by
distant whispered
ocean bellows
blowin' in the winds
of change ―
Adrift across
Parkdale
mountain meadows,
Coyote bent,
paw trodden
ripe sweet grasses,
pungent with
waft of mountain sage
and fermenting apples fallen ―
the waxing silence
of the marvelous moon
echoes just beyond
the Lost Lake of the Woods,
its golden orange crescent
dances on clear lake ripples,
high perched
sky reflection lapping
the moon kissed shoreline
― alone ―
The Sliver of the Moon,
skinny lithe
unripened youth
arching
as unsated
summer love ―
sage memories
waxing and waning,
whiffs of honeyed Jasmine
writhing witherings,
coalescent
time drifts onward ―
unstoppable changes
never turning around
looking back
to see
their fading reflection
recurring ―
august rivers 2017
*note to self:
September 15, 16 east wind
Breathing Waft of lingering Mountain Sage
another Autumn soon comes*
... and I'm getting older too
Oct 1, 2017
Oct 1, 2017 at 12:33 PM UTC
The old man who visits
in December and is loaded
with blustery showers
has forgotten us.
Lady July who enjoys
dancing in creek beds
draped in ferns and flowers
now has eczema instead.
The summer of smile
and flush I know well
has unexpectedly
become a dance with fire.
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 11:59 PM UTC
Pulsating honor doth corroded hearts impound
A blustery breeze echoes cries from each, preceding battleground
A recurring, eager parade of reporters, gawkers freely roam distant mound
Below, fatigued, tidy mass of steeled infantry; to death's throes bound
Neighing horses conditioned to mayhem the pageantry doth confound
On opposite ridges, mounted turrets prepared hell's fury to expound
On signal, a synchronized, concussive chorus doth its dark melody propound
Scraps of metal shards initiate; commencing another, toilsome round
After lengthy barrage, wits collected a more lethal volley to stound
Familiar, urgent order to charge christens hallowed ground
With youthful ardor a wide-eyed bugler doth the bridled expanse unbound
Shrieking rancor from recoiling rifles; a familiar anthem doth resound
Recurring cacophonous medley, weathered nerves drowned
Once more, a mass of flesh surges into the abyss with mortal hopes crowned
Anon, shattered limbs; gory wounds misery's cache compound
Jul 20, 2012
Jul 20, 2012 at 9:59 AM UTC
The weather seemed better from the day before
While the sun was backed by low clouds,
And the wind was getting a brisk touch,
The cold on the fringe, the snap of a finger,
The feeling could all be turned round,
The snow, piling the roadways
Feeling it not far from here,
With November upon us (November can you believe?)
And Christmas, that 'time of the year'
Each date, each principal, each feeling of time
Passes quick and full and blows by like the breeze
With a smile for the things you can do,
A happy feeling for the things you will do
A snag, but a feeling of 'I tried' with the things you cannot do,
All this, all these, all of it wells inside you and feels
Like the rush of the wind on a blustery day
With a feeling that somewhere, home, you know it's there
One can feel, your words, your skin, your heart
And can feel it with a smile,
Can feel it with a warmth, and a protective arm
Can wrap around you, and in the silence,
You know, it is there.
Nov 30, 2011
Nov 30, 2011 at 8:51 PM UTC
The scene was casual for its inhabitants but an unholy terror for his eyes
A carnival of violence and debauchery, ages 18 and up if you please!
Walk on in ladies and gentleman
You’re just in time to watch the show!
This circus is rated F for **** you
And now its time for the new act.
Watch as the young thing we call
Serotonin Sam battles her demons
Armed only with her blustery attitude
And a .44 mm Magnum
Terrified, he stared on as she lifted the gun and pressed it to her temple
Her face was placid, serenely calm through one exhale and an explosion
When the smoke cleared the carnival disappeared
Replacing his fantasy of wild music and colors
With the faded pastel reality shrouded in darkness
She wasn’t gone quickly, she just became less
With each self-destructive move
She lost another piece of herself
And now instead of a vibrant girl
He listened as a ghost began to speak
“Can’t you feel me,” she whispered?
I came here to breathe words of derision in your ear
Take stock of where we are and react
Just like the sweet little boy you are
Give me your innocence, not much but it’ll do
I need it to lighten my heart and empty my brain
I’ve never had the will to do so much penance
I’m doing my best impression of oppression
And fertilizing the weeds that strangle you
I’ll need to drain you dry of wholesomeness
Come on babe, escape with me
“This isn’t you!” He screamed while the carnival colors and sounds return
Everywhere he looked he saw a different fun-house mirror version of himself
He turned and ran as fast as he could
Tripping on bags of peanuts, discarded prizes,
and popping a lost bag containing a lonely goldfish
He keeps running until a curtain smacks him in the face
And the scene is the same.
But he’s the one out there now.
How long can he regale the crowd?
Feb 7, 2013
Feb 7, 2013 at 5:26 PM UTC
I watched some crows this very eve,
Play upon a blustery, early November breeze.
Wave upon wave of those corvid beasts,
Now going west, now going east.
Now rising up, now darting down,
Now racing east,
Now tacking west.
No sailor on the seven seas
Can tack so well as one of these.
Now up, now down
Now left, then down.
One flies north
Another south, then darts east.
Yet flock drifts by despite these feats.
Another joins in synchronous dance
Then up, then down, then back again
Waving together till parting perchance.
Then each alone, up,
Then down, then back again.
Some stall for several ***** and blows,
Remaining still to trees below,
Then a feather's twitch
Banks into the wind
And soar, ...... soar, ..... soar,
Soar away.
Down a slope only birds can know
Racing faster than the wind
Above the trees below.
*It seems so wasteful, this fighting of the wind,
Futile and vain as a skein does not.
It's not hunting, I think, nor ***
Except perhaps for showing off.
But I suspect play at play.
Jonathon Seagull's desire, it seems
Infects these playful playing memes.
Perhaps I see play where there is no play,
Projecting wishes onto senses.
But corvids do play, it seems.
Do you too so seem?
Perhaps they even dream.*
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 8:41 PM UTC
I want to live like Starfish
simply giving my right arm
and noticing after I make the sand-angel
yet still resembling a furious nuclear planet 93,000,000 miles away
to forget a piece of myself and live as if it was always lost
to stick up my nose at lost extremities
'cause that's gotta hurt worse than heartbreak
bleeding nothing but the air I breath
like the currents and jetsam and shores
I am but a system of the sea
I wish to chase the tide
to make my worries be of the moment
letting seawater be my blood
ebbing and reviving as the brine tickles my insides
every roll of wave my heartbeat
yet blustery winds blow; rattling the depths with tempestuous intent
finding hidden fury concealed underneath my cracking skeleton
maybe these things are stored in a lost limb
and can satisfy some gull roosting in the cliffside above
eating my feelings for me
I wish my potential
were undiscovered depths
where seaweed grows like ivy across shipwrecks
turning former "value" into a house for the stars
maybe a couple with only four legs
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 10:45 PM UTC
The chill of winter bites into the skin
And the valley sleeps in muffled din
In the freezing blustery winter night
The shivering trees stay huddled and tight
Stars have lined up in the sky
With cotton clouds swiftly sailing by
The moon light seeping through the veil
Makes the foliage glisten in the dale
Sharp noises sounding eerie
Leave the valley a place so scary
These sounds parley in a tongue unknown
Of gory tales, to none ever known
Did some cannibal tribe once congregate
In this nether territory to live segregate
What midnight revels had they held
No one knows and history remains cold
Now, here amid thickets and thorny shrubs
Where darkness, like a Fiend proudly struts
And in leaf fringed corners and crevices wide
Serpents coil with poisonous fangs in hide
Look, the sly fox walking stealthily away
After feeding greedily on his hapless prey,
Through the ravine and down the furrow
How he sneaks into his covert burrow
The glassy brook that mirrored the skies
Now in dark, under a thick blanket lies
But the water rushing through pebbles and rocks
With sonorous music, the nightly calm breaks
Among the branches of towering trees
Birds have perched and roost in peace
Little birdies with downy feathers
Cuddle under their mothers splayed wings
From far off woods comes a shrieking howl
As frightening as the hoots of a night owl
Wind, rushing through needle pines
Sounds like a child when he, in pain whines
Now the valley sleeps in muffled din
Until the Sun for his daily ritual parades in
In day light this valley would be up and awake
And life for sure will a renewed turn take
Nov 27, 2016
Nov 27, 2016 at 5:47 AM UTC
YES. my simple biceps are purring perfectly slick immobile death
rictus wearing skulls. i needle my flesh and ink it and make it pretty
the smiling violence of my triceps
bulge distended arcs of fists. ladling terrifically through stale
air mingling vibrant vibrations
calm tigers of effortless dream making darkness my arms dance and
jolt pleasurably and every body loves
the infliction of their splendid pain;they roar and combust
suddenly at the night crafting carpals imbued to my wrists
jouncing and blustery voices thrash from throats
they love it
they love it they love it
i
'll do it some more
Sep 1, 2010
Sep 1, 2010 at 2:56 PM UTC
Time slipped away in the spring, in the muddy puddles and the rain, in the sweet-smelling flowers and the rain.
It rubbed circles into the small of my back,
whispered bittersweet apologies and tacked a sticky note to my corkboard.
“Remember to call.”
I forgot.
And I sit under the blooming tree
my bare feet soft against the grass
Time left me in the summer, in the sunny skies and the rain, in the sweltering heat and the rain.
It ran somewhere unknown, far, far, far away,
while I treaded chlorinated water and prayed that the fall would come sooner.
“You can call whenever.”
I didn’t.
And I sit beside the verdant tree
my bare feet hard on the pavement
Time was gone in the fall, in the whispered breeze and the rain, in the crinkling leaves and the rain.
But I had company in a glowing screen,
And as days turned to weeks turned to months I forgot about time altogether.
“Someone is calling.”
I hung up.
And I sit far from the dying tree
my bare feet resting on the couch
Time slept in the winter, in the miserable cold and the rain, in the blustery wind and the rain.
Numbers and names disavowed,
As “today” and “tomorrow” become “now” and “later”
“What is the word called?”
I don’t know.
And I cannot see the empty tree
my bare feet asleep on the carpet
Time has returned in the spring.
It looks me in the eyes,
profuse apologies pouring out from its lips.
“But you didn’t call.”
I blink. Didn’t I?
Apr 28, 2021
Apr 28, 2021 at 12:52 AM UTC
Tempests escort trust
Right out the door
In rudest manner.
Blustery, with an icy chill
That breathes nausea into my soul,
Fear has ******* trust for far too long.
This is not The Way.
This is not what He designed,
Nor paid so dearly for.
He could not be more clear:
“You will have trouble-
But take heart,
I have overcome the world,
I am with you always,”
Cast your cares on me,
Consider the lilies of the field,
I’ve numbered the hairs on your head.”
It’s time I get ruthless,
Toss fear and worry out,
And bar the door with trust.
Start a fire of gratitude in the hearth,
And cook a celebratory feast.
When darkness descends
And trouble comes in waves,
When I see things gone wrong,
With no redeeming bent,
I will wait.
I will clutch His hand and wait.
I will look around in this moment,
And ask, “Father, what would you have?”
I lack understanding,
And there is nothing good in me,
But I belong to One who
Loves extravagantly,
Strengthens repeatedly,
Forgives freely,
Rules in humility,
And is jealous for my trust.
I’m beginning to think
It is an all or nothing proposition.
Clarity may not come,
Not in this shady realm.
But confident expectation surely can.
Do I or don’t I?
Will I or won’t I?
Trepidation and trust
Just a heartbeat apart, these two.
It’s time for ruthless trust.
Apr 26, 2013
Apr 26, 2013 at 1:49 PM UTC
Quivering here in the end of summer breeze
Tinged at the edges and speckled with decay
Drinking in the iridescent evening suns rays
Autumn is but a few blustery storms away
Retirement has not quite caught up with me
Winter is thankfully still 1.5 seasons at bay
But when my time comes, I'll happily fall
For when mother nature calls we all must obey
Aug 14, 2014
Aug 14, 2014 at 7:25 PM UTC
She emerged from the mist of a never ending fairy tale that was mistaken as a horror story and spread her wings to breathe death upon all who sort to strip from her the scales that had bought her glory and wrought death and destruction early on roaring I love to wake in the morning to the smell of chicken cacciatore!
But the days turned to weeks turned to months turned to forever when they just went on and on and the people she once terrorized died and turned to dust (if they escaped her justice) and she never aged one day over time. She sat back and snorted as her rage curled like smoke from a dying fire and contemplated that all her rage had dissipated and she had lost all her spark with her diminishing ire…
So she retreated to her lair deep in the Carpathians to contemplate her too long fate and only ever emerged to hunt (yes, she still ate) Her motto of Meat is fair game never changed, she was Dragon, her physiology stayed the same but she made sure it was a clean **** out of necessity, not borne of fear and went back to her cave to lick her tail while studying her navel and sniffing back the occasional tear
On a particularly cold and blustery night, a bard, who was following the latest in season ‘now’ knight lost his way and stumbled into her cave and gave both of them a fright. She recognized his poet heart and he recognized her, from the start and she agreed not to eat him if he carried her musing to the heart of the people… so began a mutual understanding of the words that would be impart
She understood that her words would be the water that slaked a raging fire and would show others that she was angry but they had nothing to fear from her in the least and when she spoke and accidently let loose the fire in her heart then she felt contrite but there was nothing she could do about her inner beast.
All she wanted was the world to know that she had something to say and it was important that they looked beyond what they saw with their own eyes and ignored her form and looked into her heart.
She ate the bard, he was a tasty treat. She realized she was able to speak to the world, without interference because she was otherwise human and could embrace that part.
PS:
She still occasionally terrifies small children and is partial to animals for a quick snack but she remembers to walk among the village with a smile on her face and a twinkle in her eye and knows that her words will give back :)
Mar 22, 2013
Mar 22, 2013 at 7:42 AM UTC