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"dwarves" poems
‘To bed! To bed!’ Said Sleepy-head; ‘Tarry awhile,’ said Slow; ‘Put on the pan,’ Said Greedy Nan; ‘We'll sup before we go.’ (from Mother Goose) They sat at the kitchen table as The candle flickered low, And Greedy Nan put on the pan To indulge her sister, Slow, While Sleepy Weepy Annabelle Blotted her book with tears, And thought of her Beau from long ago Who she hadn’t seen for years. ‘Why doesn’t Roger notice me, Why doesn’t Alan Dell? I’m wearing the dress cut low for me And I’ve hitched my skirt as well. I’ve a pretty turn to my ankle, so You’d think it would drive them wild.’ ‘But men are a mystery,’ said Slow, ‘And Alan Dell’s a child.’ While over the pan stood Greedy Nan, Was cracking a turkey’s egg, A lump of yeast and a slice of beast And a single spider’s leg. With a wing of bat and an ounce of fat And a toe of frog for the spell, She needed to turn her sister off From her crush on Alan Dell. For Greedy Nan was the eldest girl And would have to marry first, The other two would wait in the queue Or their fortunes be reversed, The omelette sizzled, and in the pan She added before they saw, A piece of some Devil’s Trumpet plant For the mating game meant war. She sliced the omelette into half And she served them up a piece, ‘Didn’t you want?’ said Annabelle But Slow enjoyed the feast. ‘I’m not that terribly hungry now I’ve cooked it up in the pan, I think I’ll just have a slice of bread,’ Said the scheming Greedy Nan. They finished up and they sat awhile, And they mused about their fate, ‘If Greedy Nan isn’t married soon, For us it will be too late.’ ‘I’ve set my sights on a country squire,’ Said Nan, without a blink, Lured them away from her secret fire To confuse what they might think. ‘The room is woozy, spinning around, I’d better get me to bed,’ Said Annabelle, while Slow with a frown Saw Dwarves dancing in her head. But Greedy Nan was cleaning the pan To clear all signs of the spell, Her back was turned to her sisters, spurned For the sake of Alan Dell. And when he came in the morning Greedy Nan was sat by the door, While Annabelle and her sister Slow Were lying dead on the floor, ‘I didn’t mean it to **** them, Al, It was only a simple spell,’ But as he cuffed and led her away He frowned, did Alan Dell. David Lewis Paget
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Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 8:01 PM UTC
To Bed! To Bed!
‘To bed! To bed!’ Said Sleepy-head; ‘Tarry awhile,’ said Slow; ‘Put on the pan,’ Said Greedy Nan; ‘We'll sup before we go.’ (from Mother Goose) They sat at the kitchen table as The candle flickered low, And Greedy Nan put on the pan To indulge her sister, Slow, While Sleepy Weepy Annabelle Blotted her book with tears, And thought of her Beau from long ago Who she hadn’t seen for years. ‘Why doesn’t Roger notice me, Why doesn’t Alan Dell? I’m wearing the dress cut low for me And I’ve hitched my skirt as well. I’ve a pretty turn to my ankle, so You’d think it would drive them wild.’ ‘But men are a mystery,’ said Slow, ‘And Alan Dell’s a child.’ While over the pan stood Greedy Nan, Was cracking a turkey’s egg, A lump of yeast and a slice of beast And a single spider’s leg. With a wing of bat and an ounce of fat And a toe of frog for the spell, She needed to turn her sister off From her crush on Alan Dell. For Greedy Nan was the eldest girl And would have to marry first, The other two would wait in the queue Or their fortunes be reversed, The omelette sizzled, and in the pan She added before they saw, A piece of some Devil’s Trumpet plant For the mating game meant war. She sliced the omelette into half And she served them up a piece, ‘Didn’t you want?’ said Annabelle But Slow enjoyed the feast. ‘I’m not that terribly hungry now I’ve cooked it up in the pan, I think I’ll just have a slice of bread,’ Said the scheming Greedy Nan. They finished up and they sat awhile, And they mused about their fate, ‘If Greedy Nan isn’t married soon, For us it will be too late.’ ‘I’ve set my sights on a country squire,’ Said Nan, without a blink, Lured them away from her secret fire To confuse what they might think. ‘The room is woozy, spinning around, I’d better get me to bed,’ Said Annabelle, while Slow with a frown Saw Dwarves dancing in her head. But Greedy Nan was cleaning the pan To clear all signs of the spell, Her back was turned to her sisters, spurned For the sake of Alan Dell. And when he came in the morning Greedy Nan was sat by the door, While Annabelle and her sister Slow Were lying dead on the floor, ‘I didn’t mean it to **** them, Al, It was only a simple spell,’ But as he cuffed and led her away He frowned, did Alan Dell. David Lewis Paget
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72
Even at my age, I see mountainous lands in the sky, Languishing among towering clouds, A lofty empire, lost kingdoms, Perhaps a strange magical realm, Thriving with dwarves and giants, Maidens in towers awaiting rescue, Where lone horse warriors wander, Maybe observing us, far below. Must be a poetic creative thing, Or simply the child deep within, Viewing through the eyes of the man, Dreaming ancient days of long ago, When the child yearned to be grown, To know all there is to know, Never appreciating escapism, The chance to drift within time, Ponder upon distant, aerial, worlds. Or maybe I’m just a dreamer, That and nothing more, hmm, Telling myself, I am a poet, A procrastinating creative spirit, In love with the trappings of art, The child asleep within wisdom, Languishing among towering clouds, I see mountainous lands in the sky, Even at my age. ©Paul M Chafer 2015
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Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 5:08 AM UTC
Cloud Realm
The memory of you emerges from the night around me. The river mingles its stubborn lament with the sea. Deserted like the dwarves at dawn. It is the hour of departure, oh deserted one! Cold flower heads are raining over my heart. Oh pit of debris, fierce cave of the shipwrecked. In you the wars and the flights accumulated. From you the wings of the song birds rose. You swallowed everything, like distance. Like the sea, like time. In you everything sank! It was the happy hour of assault and the kiss. The hour of the spell that blazed like a lighthouse. Pilot's dread, fury of blind driver, turbulent drunkenness of love, in you everything sank! In the childhood of mist my soul, winged and wounded. Lost discoverer, in you everything sank! You girdled sorrow, you clung to desire, sadness stunned you, in you everything sank! I made the wall of shadow draw back, beyond desire and act, I walked on. Oh flesh, my own flesh, woman whom I loved and lost, I summon you in the moist hour, I raise my song to you. Like a jar you housed infinite tenderness. and the infinite oblivion shattered you like a jar. There was the black solitude of the islands, and there, woman of love, your arms took me in. There was thirst and hunger, and you were the fruit. There were grief and ruins, and you were the miracle. Ah woman, I do not know how you could contain me in the earth of your soul, in the cross of your arms! How terrible and brief my desire was to you! How difficult and drunken, how tensed and avid. Cemetery of kisses, there is still fire in your tombs, still the fruited boughs burn, pecked at by birds. Oh the bitten mouth, oh the kissed limbs, oh the hungering teeth, oh the entwined bodies. Oh the mad coupling of hope and force in which we merged and despaired. And the tenderness, light as water and as flour. And the word scarcely begun on the lips. This was my destiny and in it was my voyage of my longing, and in it my longing fell, in you everything sank! Oh pit of debris, everything fell into you, what sorrow did you not express, in what sorrow are you not drowned! From billow to billow you still called and sang. Standing like a sailor in the prow of a vessel. You still flowered in songs, you still brike the currents. Oh pit of debris, open and bitter well. Pale blind diver, luckless slinger, lost discoverer, in you everything sank! It is the hour of departure, the hard cold hour which the night fastens to all the timetables. The rustling belt of the sea girdles the shore. Cold stars heave up, black birds migrate. Deserted like the wharves at dawn. Only tremulous shadow twists in my hands. Oh farther than everything. Oh farther than everything. It is the hour of departure. Oh abandoned one!
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14.2k
A Song Of Despair
The memory of you emerges from the night around me. The river mingles its stubborn lament with the sea. Deserted like the dwarves at dawn. It is the hour of departure, oh deserted one! Cold flower heads are raining over my heart. Oh pit of debris, fierce cave of the shipwrecked. In you the wars and the flights accumulated. From you the wings of the song birds rose. You swallowed everything, like distance. Like the sea, like time. In you everything sank! It was the happy hour of assault and the kiss. The hour of the spell that blazed like a lighthouse. Pilot's dread, fury of blind driver, turbulent drunkenness of love, in you everything sank! In the childhood of mist my soul, winged and wounded. Lost discoverer, in you everything sank! You girdled sorrow, you clung to desire, sadness stunned you, in you everything sank! I made the wall of shadow draw back, beyond desire and act, I walked on. Oh flesh, my own flesh, woman whom I loved and lost, I summon you in the moist hour, I raise my song to you. Like a jar you housed infinite tenderness. and the infinite oblivion shattered you like a jar. There was the black solitude of the islands, and there, woman of love, your arms took me in. There was thirst and hunger, and you were the fruit. There were grief and ruins, and you were the miracle. Ah woman, I do not know how you could contain me in the earth of your soul, in the cross of your arms! How terrible and brief my desire was to you! How difficult and drunken, how tensed and avid. Cemetery of kisses, there is still fire in your tombs, still the fruited boughs burn, pecked at by birds. Oh the bitten mouth, oh the kissed limbs, oh the hungering teeth, oh the entwined bodies. Oh the mad coupling of hope and force in which we merged and despaired. And the tenderness, light as water and as flour. And the word scarcely begun on the lips. This was my destiny and in it was my voyage of my longing, and in it my longing fell, in you everything sank! Oh pit of debris, everything fell into you, what sorrow did you not express, in what sorrow are you not drowned! From billow to billow you still called and sang. Standing like a sailor in the prow of a vessel. You still flowered in songs, you still brike the currents. Oh pit of debris, open and bitter well. Pale blind diver, luckless slinger, lost discoverer, in you everything sank! It is the hour of departure, the hard cold hour which the night fastens to all the timetables. The rustling belt of the sea girdles the shore. Cold stars heave up, black birds migrate. Deserted like the wharves at dawn. Only tremulous shadow twists in my hands. Oh farther than everything. Oh farther than everything. It is the hour of departure. Oh abandoned one!
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Is it wrong to want a Disney romance? That may seem a bit silly to say, But really now, Who doesn't want a prince to come sing sweet melodies, "I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream", Like seriously, Inside I be screaming "Marry me!" Unfortunately, my life is not like that, at all, I'm scrubbing floors like Cinderella cept I don't have a fairy godmother to help me off to my ball, I am the little red headed mermaid splashing around, ******* down saltwater, glancing up at Eric, wondering if he'll ever see me, Yep, I'm Belle alright, reading every night, Stuck in her dreams, hoping Gaston will quit bothering me, Gosh! I want my beast already, I want my star to grant my wish, That the spell would break from true loves kiss, But either way I'm still here, living with some dwarves cleaning up after them, Lucky ******** Hold up, that's not a very Disney thing to say. Either way, Disney got it right, We girls just want to be saved, Well I mean, I do, I don't know about the rest of you, Prince Charming can you just give me back my shoe, My heart is your's in return, I promise, Yeah, that's me waiting, wanting, wishing like always
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Oct 15, 2012
Oct 15, 2012 at 1:26 AM UTC
Disney Dreams
" In the sea of desks There is talk of bags and games And long pipes that leak dreams with a strike of a match And there's a loudness to the whispers I hear Whispears shouldn't be that loud, should they? There's a girl over there who everyone knows And men without ears who will stand by the door for a price And long hallways; there are angry mobs of dwarves and rats and one single angel. "
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Sep 25, 2016
Sep 25, 2016 at 11:44 PM UTC
- Rusty Borgens
Disney didnt lie You just haven't found the right guy And I don't mean that "nice guy" You know the one That always wants to have fun But always expectin sumin' And sleeping beauty lyin in bed Rattlin her head Like Disney said i was a princess But I feel like a Pauper instead Because I havent found that kiss that opens up my eyes And all these players out here are frog just tellin lies In disguise But I want a prince eric that goes into the ocean I want me Aladdin that knows how to fly But ofcorse Disney didn't lie And I just haven't found the right guy 3 days to find love But that ain't enough time And im tryin to find a healing flower That heals my broken heart A genie in a bottle that would set me apart Maybe one day I will turn in to a mermaid and live a life with music and art But thats a farce Maybe I will end up like elsa Queen of the singles Not needing to mingle With the common folk Sometimes I feel like Disney is a ******* joke But I keep hearing that Disney didnt lie And I just havent found the right guy The guy that will give me all his time The guy that isn't in it for the money Or the glory Or the crown But im looking around and all I see are these clowns And John isnt around to save his Pocahontas Theres a long list Of reasons I get ****** That flynn's not out here trying to give me a kiss And I feel like my opportunity was missed And I'm on the ground in some mist Waiting for the dwarves to put me in a glass casket And i just hear the same fact **** That Disney didn't lie I just havent found the right guy
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Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 4:53 PM UTC
Disney didnt lie
Disney didnt lie You just haven't found the right guy And I don't mean that "nice guy" You know the one That always wants to have fun But always expectin sumin' And sleeping beauty lyin in bed Rattlin her head Like Disney said i was a princess But I feel like a Pauper instead Because I havent found that kiss that opens up my eyes And all these players out here are frog just tellin lies In disguise But I want a prince eric that goes into the ocean I want me Aladdin that knows how to fly But ofcorse Disney didn't lie And I just haven't found the right guy 3 days to find love But that ain't enough time And im tryin to find a healing flower That heals my broken heart A genie in a bottle that would set me apart Maybe one day I will turn in to a mermaid and live a life with music and art But thats a farce Maybe I will end up like elsa Queen of the singles Not needing to mingle With the common folk Sometimes I feel like Disney is a ******* joke But I keep hearing that Disney didnt lie And I just havent found the right guy The guy that will give me all his time The guy that isn't in it for the money Or the glory Or the crown But im looking around and all I see are these clowns And John isnt around to save his Pocahontas Theres a long list Of reasons I get ****** That flynn's not out here trying to give me a kiss And I feel like my opportunity was missed And I'm on the ground in some mist Waiting for the dwarves to put me in a glass casket And i just hear the same fact **** That Disney didn't lie I just havent found the right guy
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47
The anvils rang and the hammers rose To beat out bright blades of dwarvish steel These were blades for elven kings For soon the wars would rage The Mordor hordes were marching From the blacklands they would come Bringing death and desolation To the green and pleasant lands But the elven hosts were marching Alongside dwarves and men And the eagles circled above them Eyes searching every vale and glen Bright were the swords of the elven kings Tightly strung the bows Heavy the axes and hammers of the mountain dwarves Long and fierce the spears of men The horse lords rode there on the flanks And also in the van They would be the first to fight When the orchish hordes came into sight Orc riders the target for their spears Wargs the targets for their swords To buy the times for the elven kings To form their battle lines
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Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 4:01 PM UTC
Of Elves, Dwarves and Men
Fantail feathers, of a hazy, 'yellow-orangish-moon'… Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern Skeleton-scythes, thorny-stars, swaying in the swoon, Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern Fire-pits and witches brew and cauldron’s smoking tricks? Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern Little dwarves and wolves and serpents crawling; leftover people bits, Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern Trumpets hailing arrival, of Pale Rider, can you hear his tune? Fantail feathers strain the sight of harvest-yellow moon, Skeletons, fire-pits, witches, cauldrons and Old Nix, Animals of evil’s calling, tricker-treaters; Hallow’s Eve and ****** grit! Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern Pray to Sáeta, Satá, Saturn… Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern*
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Jun 5, 2016
Jun 5, 2016 at 12:43 PM UTC
Jack-O’ Lantern
**** me. Here I go again, meeting a blue eyed boy and tripping myself into a trap, catching feelings and getting infected more than I should. His tremendous fingertips tuck against mine, making mine tremble in a way I forgot they could. My fingers are dwarves against his, trying to hold onto something tangible, something real, as he breathes heavy air my way and I giggle, unable to handle the seriousness. **** me. Because this is serious. We laugh and poke and **** and joke but when I look into his eyes, I know. I know for once this is something far more serious than a fling, than dating, than any of it. He is my friend and we are standing here bare to each other and we are not turning away, not hiding unto ourselves, we are basking in the glory of each other's nakedness and loving it. **** me. Each time he touches my side I feel a flutter and a yearning that I haven't felt so strong in a long time. He is touching me, and kissing me, and each moment I wait for the next touch, the next kiss, I go crazier and crazier. I crave his hands on mine, on my body, on all of me, and I can't handle it. **** me. Pull me down onto you and make me feel something I've never felt before. Make me forget all those other boys to the point only you exist and I exist and that's all that matters. Make me feel beautiful naked. Make me real. Make yourself unforgettable. **** me. I'm falling in love with him. Hard. **** Me.
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May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 1:40 PM UTC
**** Me.
A place with elves dwarves, hobbits and men A place with tales We hear again and again A place with adventure That will never die A place to laugh And a place to cry A place with songs Of ancient days Sung by elves Merry and gay A place where you hear The hobbits laughter Where they live Happily ever after Where mountains are filled With silver and gold Where the dwarves mine Mighty and bold A place with men In cities of stone And their great king Sits on a beautiful throne A place with lore To others unknown A place that I love A place that's my own There I live And there will I die In middle earth My heart will lie
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Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 9:56 AM UTC
Middle Earth
the glockenspiel of our daily raid of sewers in heaven and our Jovian dwarves appalling the rapturous capacity of forever and ever. the kooky jingle of our serpents, darning socks for the antichrist and our elaborate rats. the simple maze of our condition in the hell were at. the creaking gate to a twilight and a lost chapter marooned on an island of undead Librarians. starving for brains tardy with the Harold Robins knife in red breast.
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Jan 19, 2013
Jan 19, 2013 at 4:37 PM UTC
Trump And Annoy
Snow White in fact to hell and back pursued the seven Dwarves Who daily mined their businesses and never minded yours She danced the ground where hammers pound She sang in quadraphonic sound She knew her scene was just on screen And screens were not of human beings She knew her life in truth to be Light flickering through transparency And that she soon as all cartoons Would roll back to her film's cocoon Then a sticky floor for a Disney ***** A princess serving clients She did her part, now Dwarven hearts Can beat the blood of Giants
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May 8, 2012
May 8, 2012 at 10:11 PM UTC
Snow White in Fact
I'm really sick. Like ***** is going to come out of my mouth-- an eruption of **** from my ears is due. I've laid too long dormant and one by one the hot spots of my petty jealousy,      indignation, and      mistrust are at boiling points: The Ring of Fire, they call it. Yellowstone I'm the ********* Yellowstone caldera. The great rim, ****** up and blister scarred, knock-kneed from falling out of bed in nightmares, weird from the predisposition to volcanic shittiness       (not in a romantic way) but none the less active,          or reactive. This vexation is as old as grinding plates. This repulsion is as old as the poisoning of Aristotle My head is the Spartan scythe because I'm a new sign in an old world. I use old signs to poison this newly dug well between us But not well can I keep this message         banner         ******* billboard to myself. So let me just wrap the code from ear to ear, in plain text where you can see the cypher: **** your red dress. You see, those blisters are the gravity between White Dwarves pulling at skin, and earth, and ending thrown halfway across the universe. I knew I'd seen you before, there at the edge of the Oort Cloud where we tell people we just met: I stopped eating I was hurt once I was ugly too and no one was really listening. You and the rest of our red dresses meant too little. But still then why do you whine over the hungry, and hurt, and ugly and spit in my face for being there at the Edge, and for loving the thrill in listlessness, the passion in mundanity? And that ******** about the shallowness of victims? You didn’t learn a thing traveling and trusting and falling out of beds. Your drunken honesty is your sober lack of layers. This isn’t a far reach of space, your torn dress and cork heels won't work here. Don’t bring that littleness here, you're the only one not really listening now.
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Jan 11, 2015
Jan 11, 2015 at 12:25 AM UTC
The Drunken Lack of Layers to Ms. Almond
I'm really sick. Like ***** is going to come out of my mouth-- an eruption of **** from my ears is due. I've laid too long dormant and one by one the hot spots of my petty jealousy,      indignation, and      mistrust are at boiling points: The Ring of Fire, they call it. Yellowstone I'm the ********* Yellowstone caldera. The great rim, ****** up and blister scarred, knock-kneed from falling out of bed in nightmares, weird from the predisposition to volcanic shittiness       (not in a romantic way) but none the less active,          or reactive. This vexation is as old as grinding plates. This repulsion is as old as the poisoning of Aristotle My head is the Spartan scythe because I'm a new sign in an old world. I use old signs to poison this newly dug well between us But not well can I keep this message         banner         ******* billboard to myself. So let me just wrap the code from ear to ear, in plain text where you can see the cypher: **** your red dress. You see, those blisters are the gravity between White Dwarves pulling at skin, and earth, and ending thrown halfway across the universe. I knew I'd seen you before, there at the edge of the Oort Cloud where we tell people we just met: I stopped eating I was hurt once I was ugly too and no one was really listening. You and the rest of our red dresses meant too little. But still then why do you whine over the hungry, and hurt, and ugly and spit in my face for being there at the Edge, and for loving the thrill in listlessness, the passion in mundanity? And that ******** about the shallowness of victims? You didn’t learn a thing traveling and trusting and falling out of beds. Your drunken honesty is your sober lack of layers. This isn’t a far reach of space, your torn dress and cork heels won't work here. Don’t bring that littleness here, you're the only one not really listening now.
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51
My feet were too big so the glass slipper wouldn't fit I hated housework so no band of merry dwarves I had frequent nightmares so no peaceful sleep interrupted by a chaste kiss I liked my hair short so no prince tugging at my hair Words, too often, hurt and I am a bigger beast than any man I've met No tiara for me I will settle for a sword No hero for me I will be my own hero No fairy dust for me I will conjure up my own
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Dec 28, 2020
Dec 28, 2020 at 4:35 AM UTC
No Tiara For Me
I get Grumpy. That is to say, I understand the dwarf. Not that I don't get grumpy. That is to say, Become irritable. In fact that is what we have in common, Grumpy and I. We both become irritable. Except it's not that we are grumpy, Grumpy and I. Not really. Grumpy and I are sick. But people don't realize it, Because it is not in the Sneezy kind of way. Depression makes people, And at least 1 in 7 dwarves, Become irritable. We get grumpy about ***** things, Yell at our families, Then get mad at ourselves for being grumpy. There are other symptoms too, Like being sleepy or sad. But irritability is often overlooked. What Grumpy and I really need, But we're too Bashful to say so, Is to see a Doc. Because all any of us want, Grumpy or not, Is to be Happy.
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Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 3:37 AM UTC
Depression PSA
Snow White had a pain one day, She called for the court physician. He checked her pulse, he felt her head Said she had a strange condition. Told her to eat some apples wild And come back the very next day. Then found that she must be with child; For how long, he couldn't say. Snow White had no rememberance Of ever laying down with a man; But her child bore a slight resemblance To a motley forest band. Seven dwarves had lived in a place Right at the edge of town; Rumors flew it was a disgrace Which Snow White would never live down. But then someone remembered a chap Name of Johnny Appleseed, came through Said he put some seed right in Snow's lap- Just before her belly grew.
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Mar 15, 2010
Mar 15, 2010 at 8:54 PM UTC
Snow White Had a Pain
All the once upon a time stories that end in happily ever after have the flawless handsome Prince charming who meets the sweetest princess or young maiden who becomes a princess after they marry (typically approximately 12 to 18 hours or so after they meet usually because the sweet young lady was rescued by the Prince because she was singing randomly and dancing around with woodland animals who do her laundry and she fell off of a tower or was attacked by some lady who literally has no job but spends her entire life just being evil for the sake of being evil and yet never starves to death despite the fact that her evil plots never actually allow her to aquire money or food of any sort.) The girl is always polite Everyone loves her She usually has a waistline tinier than a flowerstem And she sees the good in everyone She is also gorgeous 100% of the time Well I am NOT that girl I can't alwaye be polite and perfect I can't even be pretty There are more people that hate me than there are people who can even tolerate me I'm not the likable easy going type I don't have a three inch waist (mainly because that is completely insane) I can't find a way to like every person I'm the jealous ugly stepsister Anastasia in Cinderella I'm the wicked witch in the wizard of Oz I'm the wolf in the three little pigs I'm the hag in snow white and the seven dwarves I'm not the princess in the story But fortunately, I don't need to be because life is not a fairytale And you don't need to be prince charming Hell, you don't even need to be anything like the lists I make about what my dream guy should be like Because really, since when do I know what I actually want? I certainly am always wrong about what I need So here's the deal You love me for me, be loyal, care about me because of my soul first and my looks having nothing to do with it, you give me eternity, And I promise you the same. I don't need you to catch me when I fall off a tower That doesn't really happen much I need you to catch the little pieces of me when I fall apart because the emotions were all too much I don't need a happily ever after And you don't need to be prince charming Because I am not a princess Repost if you are not a princess either Please comment I love to read interpretations of my work and really any other thoughts you may have! :)
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Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 1:19 AM UTC
because I am not a princess
All the once upon a time stories that end in happily ever after have the flawless handsome Prince charming who meets the sweetest princess or young maiden who becomes a princess after they marry (typically approximately 12 to 18 hours or so after they meet usually because the sweet young lady was rescued by the Prince because she was singing randomly and dancing around with woodland animals who do her laundry and she fell off of a tower or was attacked by some lady who literally has no job but spends her entire life just being evil for the sake of being evil and yet never starves to death despite the fact that her evil plots never actually allow her to aquire money or food of any sort.) The girl is always polite Everyone loves her She usually has a waistline tinier than a flowerstem And she sees the good in everyone She is also gorgeous 100% of the time Well I am NOT that girl I can't alwaye be polite and perfect I can't even be pretty There are more people that hate me than there are people who can even tolerate me I'm not the likable easy going type I don't have a three inch waist (mainly because that is completely insane) I can't find a way to like every person I'm the jealous ugly stepsister Anastasia in Cinderella I'm the wicked witch in the wizard of Oz I'm the wolf in the three little pigs I'm the hag in snow white and the seven dwarves I'm not the princess in the story But fortunately, I don't need to be because life is not a fairytale And you don't need to be prince charming Hell, you don't even need to be anything like the lists I make about what my dream guy should be like Because really, since when do I know what I actually want? I certainly am always wrong about what I need So here's the deal You love me for me, be loyal, care about me because of my soul first and my looks having nothing to do with it, you give me eternity, And I promise you the same. I don't need you to catch me when I fall off a tower That doesn't really happen much I need you to catch the little pieces of me when I fall apart because the emotions were all too much I don't need a happily ever after And you don't need to be prince charming Because I am not a princess Repost if you are not a princess either Please comment I love to read interpretations of my work and really any other thoughts you may have! :)
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[Las Meninas, Oil on Canvas, 1656, Prado, Madrid] I am the first proud pronoun I against the fear of my invisibility each morning rising from minor nobility like my parents (no son of a converso – lies –) into the light of mastery; now as a Knight of Santiago - the king himself painted the cross you see in Las Meninas - nobilitas is in the faces royal with ancient lines (you understand I did not trade am Moorish of Seville and Portugal). Not from the mind but back into its expectation. I see the work reflected into the lens of sense to supplement the work into the real express itself by what a slavish love of detail cannot supply it was the power to give them what they did not see the scorn in lips from ****** generations bought by my brush among them into monarchic trade and what they thought as glory, dwarves and all larger than life. that painted me so high those royal portraits by the score keyed to the colour of fame silvered and golden mine.
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Jan 25, 2012
Jan 25, 2012 at 7:11 AM UTC
Diego Velazquez Self-Portrait
"Daddy," said Catharine as I tucked her into bed, "will you tell me a tale?" So I told her the story of Snow White and the Seven Dwarves with Disney's ***** and Grumpy   thrown in for good measure; and when I finished she pulled out an apple from under her pillow and she said I should eat it I laughed and I did, and spent 7 days in hospital And my doctor said I was lucky to have survived the poisoned apple Catharine won't tell us where she got it from Today Catharine stands before me and her stepmom as we have dinner And she places two pink cupcakes on the table and she smiles, and she whispers: "Eat...that's from Hansel and Gretel"
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Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 10:10 PM UTC
Daddy, tell me a tale (Horror)
The dweeb lived in the dwellings of a dwindling tribe of dwarves Who anchored little kayaks at the moorings in the wharves. He organised this transport so that they might go at night Deep into the dark dense woods to visit their Snow White. But the dwarves were very old and weren’t getting any younger And although they really wanted too it couldn’t last much longer. Meanwhile the dweeb would study every minute of the day So studious and serious with little time for play. The daddy of the dwarfs known as Doctor Joe Said to him, “Look dweeb, there’s little left to know.” But still he studied on writing loads of lengthy notes, Which sometimes he would use to make tedious little quotes. Until eventually the dwarves found him annoying and real boring Besides he woke them up at night with his constant snoring. So Doctor Joe hatched a plan with his little tribe It was devious and genius and this I will describe. They knew Snow White was lonely and longing for a man So this is what they had in mind for this dweeb known as Stan. Snow White would lie there in a dwam pretending to be dead And somehow they would lure Stan along to her deathbed. So they told her that he was a Prince, the great love of her heart She of course was up for it, and couldn’t wait to start. Doctor Joe then told the dweeb, that Snow White was no more. He said that he might save her and showed him to the door. On their little kayak they paddled up the river But the dweeb then said to Doctor Joe, “I don’t know what to give her.” The Doctor reassured him that it would be real bliss If only one time in her life she had a loving human kiss. The dweeb replied, “This just won’t work.” So he quoted healing potions. When Doctor Joe rejected these he suggested soothing lotions. None of these the Doctor said were right for their Snow White Only a kiss from a real-man could help her end this plight. So eventually there beside Snow White all the party stood, Outside of the stone cottage deep within the wood. The dwarves should have looked distressed but they were full of glee And so they had to hide their smiles in case the dweeb should see. At long last they’d be rid of him, this boring little nerd Some of them expressed this and they hoped he hadn’t heard. But the dweeb was now distracted by the beauty of this girl He didn’t know if this would work but he’d give it a whirl. He puckered up his lips and planted one before he spoke Then gob-smacked he stood there as Snow White soon awoke. Immediately when their eyes met he knew that it was right Likewise she felt this too, it was real love at first sight. So you see that all of this now ended happy ever after. Doctor Joe and all the dwarves left in bursts of laughter.
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Dec 7, 2009
Dec 7, 2009 at 11:16 AM UTC
The Truth about Snow White
The dweeb lived in the dwellings of a dwindling tribe of dwarves Who anchored little kayaks at the moorings in the wharves. He organised this transport so that they might go at night Deep into the dark dense woods to visit their Snow White. But the dwarves were very old and weren’t getting any younger And although they really wanted too it couldn’t last much longer. Meanwhile the dweeb would study every minute of the day So studious and serious with little time for play. The daddy of the dwarfs known as Doctor Joe Said to him, “Look dweeb, there’s little left to know.” But still he studied on writing loads of lengthy notes, Which sometimes he would use to make tedious little quotes. Until eventually the dwarves found him annoying and real boring Besides he woke them up at night with his constant snoring. So Doctor Joe hatched a plan with his little tribe It was devious and genius and this I will describe. They knew Snow White was lonely and longing for a man So this is what they had in mind for this dweeb known as Stan. Snow White would lie there in a dwam pretending to be dead And somehow they would lure Stan along to her deathbed. So they told her that he was a Prince, the great love of her heart She of course was up for it, and couldn’t wait to start. Doctor Joe then told the dweeb, that Snow White was no more. He said that he might save her and showed him to the door. On their little kayak they paddled up the river But the dweeb then said to Doctor Joe, “I don’t know what to give her.” The Doctor reassured him that it would be real bliss If only one time in her life she had a loving human kiss. The dweeb replied, “This just won’t work.” So he quoted healing potions. When Doctor Joe rejected these he suggested soothing lotions. None of these the Doctor said were right for their Snow White Only a kiss from a real-man could help her end this plight. So eventually there beside Snow White all the party stood, Outside of the stone cottage deep within the wood. The dwarves should have looked distressed but they were full of glee And so they had to hide their smiles in case the dweeb should see. At long last they’d be rid of him, this boring little nerd Some of them expressed this and they hoped he hadn’t heard. But the dweeb was now distracted by the beauty of this girl He didn’t know if this would work but he’d give it a whirl. He puckered up his lips and planted one before he spoke Then gob-smacked he stood there as Snow White soon awoke. Immediately when their eyes met he knew that it was right Likewise she felt this too, it was real love at first sight. So you see that all of this now ended happy ever after. Doctor Joe and all the dwarves left in bursts of laughter.
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46
This thing we call the universe reaches out Beyond the beyond. The sweeping sky seduces our senses With shimmering stars. A mere glimpse At endless heavens. Swirling galaxy clusters, Travelling beyond the speed of light. Like grains of sand on a surf-kissed beach, These star-packed galaxies fly forth. Meanwhile, at sub-atomic level, Exotic particles wink in and out of existence. Most stars are red dwarves. Many harbouring exoplanets In their Goldilocks Zones. One-eyed worlds with the same side Always facing the sun. On such a world there’s no such thing As a day. It’s always the same time If you stay the same place. Hot day one side, Frozen night on the other. A bright side with black plants Under a rose tinged white sky. But there are plenty of golden stars Just like our sun. Stars surrounded by rocky earths like ours. Is our Earth unique? Does it take a planetary collision To form an Earth and Moon Supporting life? Time may tell. And if we’re lucky, We might just live to see it. Did God create this Universe of ours Or is it all by chance? Who knows? Who cares? Just enjoy. Paul Butters
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May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 5:28 AM UTC
Universe
Inhaling, hushed, from hashed cigars my mind implodes in Malimar where Naiads bathe in caviar - I dream of dwarves and three-eyed tsars. The captive kiss of Princess Mars (who talks in tongues at seminars) burns red beyond Her blue boudoir - I writhe within Her pale peignoir. Her Maids gloss lips with cinnabar, bedizen cheeks in dusts that mar, serve teas beside the reservoir - I sip them from a samovar. Disguised in smoke and lamps of spar Her Genies gender gold dinars, evoking flames in ginger jars - I plea before the Commissar. At Princess’ neighbourhood bazaar, white shadows slip through doors ajar to drape my dreams in ash and char - I long await the Avatar. Her Merchants (preening, proud Hussars) paint pretty scenes on VCR’s while sailing ships to Zanzibar - I strum the strings of warped sitars. Her Prophets sometimes cruise in cars else while at each and every bar to speak of space and time bizarre - I pass my pride for small pourboires. Her Necromancers trace in tar tall tales of wisdom flung afar, transported by the Registrars - I hitchhike on their handlebars. Her seers conjure repertoires where She and I are on a par in infinite surreal memoirs - I sometimes sense the void is ours. My Princess never sees the scars cut by Her whispered “au revoirs” - I often wake to ask ‘who are these Gods that sail the distant stars?’
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Aug 12, 2013
Aug 12, 2013 at 6:49 PM UTC
Malimar (Monorhyme)
Elven prince Tender of trees Molder of leaf-covered mansions, And brother to the green and growing; Older than Dwarves, Older than Men, And Hobbits, Younger than Ents, Eternally young, Fading slowly To the West.... Truer heart Never surged, Inscrutable, Unfathomable, Anchored in Old Codes, Time out of human mind, Hidden motives Sometimes revealed, Sometimes blind.... Worthy of fearful trust. Friend to true-hearted Hobbits, Men, Dwarves, Eagles, White wizards, Hunter of Nazgul, Blade-armorer. Warg Enemy, Orc Killer, Spider Foe, Sauron Hater, Murdering Mordor....
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Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 9:06 PM UTC
Legolas