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Jackie Mead Oct 2017
Prince Simon, Prince Jason and Princess Sophie lived a regal life.

Slaying dragons and battling witches by day, monsters and beasts by night.

Each day brought adventures new, trips on boats and to the zoo.

One particular day when feeling bored, Prince Simon decided to explore.

Down to the basement, he slowly sneaked, quietly to take a peek.  New adventures he did seek.

A rickety old wardrobe he did find and suddenly an adventure sprang to mind.

Prince Simon shouted excitedly, "come quickly Prince Jason, Princess Sophie the Wardrobe holds an adventure new, one for me and why don't you join me too?"

The three children didn't hesitate into the Wardrobe they climbed, "where are we going today? do you know the way? Prince Jason chimed.

"The way is West" Prince Simon declared "to the Wild Wild West in the days that were best, in the morning I have a history test."

Quickly buckle up, hold tight, the wardrobe will soon be taking flight.

No sooner had they entered the wardrobe and buckled up, then the wardrobe began to rock and shake, the wardrobe began to lift and quake.

The rocket started rising higher and higher, faster and faster , picking up speed and going faster and faster.

Higher and higher, faster and faster they rose into the sky.

Higher and higher, faster and faster until they were 30,000 feet high and heading in the direction of the Wild Wild West.  
All three children were delighted, the rocket ship made them so excited.

Prince Jason and Princess Sophie said, " what do we need to wear on this adventure?"

Prince Simon said "cowboy hat, jeans, boots, and vest, that's all that's required for the wild wild west"

"mmm said Princess Sophie what about cowgirls or squaws that is what an Indian Girl is called"

"Well," said Prince Jason "their very similar, a cowhide dress, boots and Stetson hat for cowgirl, a cowhide dress, boots and feather headdress for the Squaw, let's look around and explore what the wardrobe has hidden for us all"

The children started looking and everything they required they did find Prince Simon and Prince Jason looked very fine as Cowboys with their hats, jeans, boots and vest they would fit right in, in the Wild Wild West.

Princess Sophie decided to dress as a Squaw and donned Cowhide dress, boots and feather headdress turned to her brothers to see if she passed the test.

"Perfect" Prince Simon and Prince Jason declared "come join us  now," they both said," it won't be long" Prince Simon stated "until we land back in time of the 1870's in Deadwood Gulch, USA, the Sheriff has a campaign to rid the county of its bad name "

Prince Jason and Princess Sophie were so excited they began to laugh and squeak, Princess Sophie did declare that "her knees were feeling weak"

10 minutes later the rocket had slowed down and was starting its' descent, Princess Sophie got so excited as she spied a teepee tent.

"Look" Princess Sophie shouted "a reservation down below, where Indians are settled and warm fires are all aglow"  

"Can we please stop and speak, I would like to ride a horse and a canoe, I have read stories and I know that's what they do, in the land of the Sioux!"

Slowly the rocket did descend, landing near the reservation, all three children opened the door, their eyes grew wider at what they saw.

5,000 Indians greeted the visitors with big smiles, and their leader, name of Crazy Horse asked them to join them for a while.
“Stay a while,” Crazy Horse said we’ll make some food, teach you to ride a horse ******* and a canoe, teach you the ways of the Sioux.

Princess Sophie replied, “we can’t wait” looking at the leader’s headdress Princess Sophie sighed “how come your headdress is as tall as it is wide?”

Crazy Horse smiled and sweetly said “I am a leader of these people and I do not hide; my headdress makes me stand out from others at my side”

Crazy Horse led the children to the teepee tent and signalled them to sit on the floor in front, cross-legged.

“We hunt daily for fish and meat, the food you are going to be given is precious and prepared with care, please do not wait, dig in, enjoy, there is enough to share”

Prince Simon, Prince Jason and Princess Sophie dived in enthusiastically, tasting everything, they could, from rice and beans, fish and meat, everything was so tasty and cooked in a *** hung over the wood.

“when you have finished “Crazy Horse declared we have horses ready for you to ride, don’t worry someone will walk with you at your side”

The children excitedly climbed upon their horses, Lakota for Prince Simon, Kamanchee for Prince Jason and Quil for Princess Sophie, they each clicked their heels and off the horses trot.

Just as Crazy Horse promised, each of the children had an Indian by their side, walking and talking about the best way to ride.

After an hour the children did decide that as much as they enjoyed it they had to end the ride.

Prince Simon said to Crazy Horse “thank you for your hospitality but we really must leave right now, we are meeting the Sheriff man of Deadwood Gulch” he said with a bow.

Crazy Horse bid them adieu and said, “say Hi to Wild Bill for me, last time I saw him he was wagon master”

The three children said their goodbyes and walked along the White River to their destination town, Deadwood Gulch.

Suddenly wooden huts appeared and horses pulling carriages, people and cargo shared the inside and Wells Fargo in writing on the outside.

Prince Simon, Prince Jason, and Princess Sophie looked around the town, found a sign that said Sheriff’s Office, rang the bell and entered.

Wild Bill Hickock with his long hair and Stetson hat, looked just as the children remembered from their history class.

“Hi,” said Wild Bill as he rose from his seat, stretched his hand out to greet the three children.

You must be Prince Simon, Prince Jason and Princess Sophie come to learn the ways of the Wild West before your history test.

“Yes” said Prince Simon, wildly shaking Wild Bills hand “we are delighted to meet you and lend a helping hand”

Wild Bill said, “follow me, I am about to take a walk, meet the local folk and welcome visitors to the town, would you like to tag along with me as I walk around?”

The three children agreed excitedly and followed behind, “First stop” said Wild Bill is the Post Office look for the Yellow sign”
“I see it,” said Princess Sophie as she ran across the street “let’s all go inside and meet the postmistress, make sure she’s got what she needs, if she requires any stationary we may have to place an order to arrive with speed”

“Next stop,” said Wild Bill “is the Blacksmiths down the road, if you are lucky he will show you how a horse is shoed”
The children watched quietly as the Blacksmith plied his trade, treating all of the horses to pairs of shoes fit for a parade.

“Last,” said Wild Bill “off to a rodeo we go, you will see cowboys riding their horses and using their lassoes and if your very lucky they will let you try it too”

Prince Simon, Prince Jason, and Princess Sophie were so excited they hardly said a word, watching the rodeo in silence, watching every move.
Finally, Wild Bill shouted from the side, “hands up who is keen to have a ride around the ranch? Try their hand with a lasso and maybe get some lunch.

The children’s hands shot up in the air and all three children gave a very loud cheer, Wild Bill laughed and replied, “Follow me and I will hook you up with three horses for a ride”

For the second time that day the children rode horses, this time in a circle around the corral, keeping time Wild Bill always by their side, they loved the ride.

Last but least Wild Bill put on a feast of a show with rope in his hand he threw the lasso over some cans set up on a fence, pulled the rope tight and without a second glance, felled the tins to the floor, the children let out an appreciative roar.

“That is the end of your day” Wild Bill did say “I am sorry to see you go but you must run along home, you’ve been gone a long time and your mummy will be worried”

The children shook Wild Bill's hand and thanked him for his time, sadly the day had ended and they climbed back in the wardrobe, set the destination to their home a million miles below.

As they approached their home, the roof started to open wide and the rocket began to slow, the ride was nearly over and they did not have far to go.

Very soon the wardrobe landed safely on the floor, the children were exhausted and ran to open the door, out they fell full of excitement and looking for their mummy, headed straight to the kitchen.

Mummy looked at all three children and declared “there you are, I was searching for Prince Simon as he has a history test in the morning on the Wild Wild West and I was going to help him revise for it.

The children laughed and cried, Princess Sophie, sighed, “no need mummy” they all declared “we know all about it, we’ve all been there”

Prince Simon said “Can we just have some tea and go straight to bed, I promise I have all the knowledge of the Wild Wild West clearly in my head, at least enough to pass the test.”

Of course said Mummy wash your hands, tea is ready.
If you have children, you may wish to know this is now available as a book. As is the Two Princes and a Princess fly to the Moon
Invocation May 2014
upbeat, and energetic.
how much is too much?
the urge to chug
heart down't slow down now
i need stronger drugs
Be thankful for the rain ,
for when it came parched lands were quenched amugst humid skies ,
as darker clouds gathered at four in the afternoon .
The letter I meant to send you lies unopened on my table .

There was no post today ,
no stamp as the post office was closed ,
no rail road to sent by train to sort out ,
No pigeon post as my bird had died that morning in its cage ,
Or telegraph man with heavy burden of death to knock on your door .
My WiFi off line
E mails down ,
My paper plane would not take to flight ,
If I could have walked to your house and mailed it by candel light ,
Or sent a sonet ,
Or a chorister of chamber singers at dusk .
By quil and ink I would have written
‘ I love you ‘
Joyce Feb 2014
I rode a Trojan horse off to sea with the winds of tide.
Off with a quil and a sword and a helmet to protect my
head the size of a melon soda;
I wondered,
did Dorian ever grow his hair long?
I envy you, Dorian,
with your silky locks and impenetrable gaze,
slanting, almost cursing mouth filled
with gasp.
Portraits do not exceed the size of its canvas,
but you seem to breathe Life, Dorian.
You seem alive.
Perhaps the color black suits you or your tie;
perhaps the ground on which you walk upon
turn grey and wither with every step.
They say you die a little each day, Dorian.
Are you looking for a lover?
One’s whims turn to coals with every feathered touch.
Lay down beside me, Dorian, and
don’t forget to cover us.
Wrap me in the shade of your *****,
and maybe tonight will be the kindest of clouds.
Lay down beside me, Dorian, and kiss me on my lips.
I have long since felt a stranger so humid and dry.
Wrap your tongue around my finger, Dorian.
Taste me;
take me breath by hurried breath.
Grounds will shake and split to quarters into the far
corners of the Earth.
There was a play, staged at the living room, where the couch
used to be.
I heard a hiss on the recorder the step you
started grinding your hips pressed unto me.
I took a hold of you, dear Dorian, and you vanished in thin
air.
Goddamit, Dorian, we never talked about Chaplin.
I never said anything about grieving or weeping the insides
of my being.
Dance with me, oh Dorian!
Before the clock strikes one.
Before you fade and your face becomes a smudge on my arm.
Look at me, Dorian, *******.
Look at me.
Look.
This is the sound of your embrace,
and of a million and one hues pressed clear in wells of oil.
I loved you, Dorian,
as much as one portrait hangs somewhere, gathering dust and memories,
waiting for a breath,
a sigh,
a touch,
a face.
The Jolteon Feb 2017
Weird **** happens
When I close my eyes
My body gets taken
Engulfed by night
Waking up in tears
Just after I tried
To get some sleep
And piece of mind
My chest is expanding
Anxiety running high
The world is upside down
Trying to hold on for the ride
Whenever I am sick especially with the flu and I take certain medicine at night it will make me wake up delirious and confused, extremely uncomfortable.
If I was a mountain

That soared towards the sky,

With craggy snow caps

And stormy grey eyes-



Then you'd be the clouds

That swaddled my peak,

That silenced my thunder

When I tried to speak.



If I was the earth

The desert, in fact:

With arid dry soil

And mud, dried and cracked-



You'd be the rain

The downpour that soothed;

The balm to my bruises,

Relief to my wounds.



If I was the Moon

In the indigo night,

With stars as my blanket

And silver; my light-



Well you'd be the Sun

Just always behind

That lent me your glow

And caused me to shine.

By Sarah Quil
devante moore May 2016
Who cares if I take and extra sip
I'm not trying to **** myself
I'm just sick
And trying to get rid of the cold quick
So I took more night quil then intended
But I'm not suicidal
I didn't finish the bottle
I just took and extra sip
simonne Mar 2013
I may not be Shakespeare with a quil
no mind a keyboard or a pen.
I work with what I have even if its a bad vocab.
To which I may bore and so follows my bad grammar and punctuation
I've really got it all.
So just
scroll
scroll
scroll.
Ignore the words I bleed on to the page.
Call it a waste of time a waste of ink.
its just nice to know maybe someone will read this
even if its not appreciated.
Ellentelligence Sep 2016
I took out a piece of parchment to scribble down the things i wanted to ask you, hoping the angels would bring it to you.
I thought perhaps, should i ask why? Why you couldn't hold on to life a little longer because i still can't get over the fact that you are gone. Or maybe to ask if it is really you who appears in my dreams...or am i just overly hallucinating to the point of memory alteration.
I should ask what keeps you busy because you mentioned the first time we talked in my dreams that you couldn't visit sooner because you had been busy. I should ask why you can't appear in my dreams everynight. Like the night before my graduation when you came and we took pictures full of glorious technicolour and we were content.
I should also ask whether you noticed that i am blue, broken...i lost myself. That I am so afraid of loss that i feel the need to push the ones i love away. To ask whether you noticed that i keep to myself so that i do not burden those around me when i break down with the mere mention of "mum".
Or let me just ask for advice. I grew up accepting the concept of broken hearts because somehow humans decided that figuratively the heart is made of glass. But mine isn't. It's made if sand. I lost a grain or two over the years but now...i should ask for advice on how to mend my disseminated heart. For it is scattered into millions of grains.
And for some reason time seems to have gone to a stance. The saying that time heals all wounds seems vague to me now. For no matter how much time passes by, this wound isn't healing. Its hard to think about you, but its even harder not to.
So after contemplating all these questions, i took out my quil and wrote the one question i was desperate to ask you:

*mother, are you well?
Dens vært et år, og uansett hvor mange sekunder passerer jeg savner deg mer hver dag. Hvil i fred mamma. Jeg elsker deg tusen mye ganger. Til vi ser hverandre igjen.
Akira Chinen Feb 2017
Poets and painters and writers and dancers and those who have art fall from their dreams through their hands and into something real in this world fall a little faster and give a little more and feel a little deeper because they have the same love that is born in the heart of dreams of flawless magic and perfect wonder and they know the value of our human imperfections and the beauty hiding in our flaws and they love long past our failures and their broken hearts keep loving us even after our goodbyes and our cruelty and mistreatment and they do more than belive in magic but keep magic alive and spin more threads into its blanket that keep our lives warm and they give without asking for anything in return and they comfort our sorrows and find our hands to hold in the dark and they take out sad stories and turn tears into dreams and dreams into stars and place those stars in the sky and they show us that magic is something wonderfully real if all we do is belive and pull these thing from our dreams and into our hands and it is a mad cat wearing a hat that smiles and purrs from our hearts and it is the most simple and complex and most beautiful part of living that makes life worth it all in the end and its at the end of the colors of every paint brush and every drop of ink from a quil and in every note of a song and every rhythm and rhyme and every leap taken and every word spoken on a stage and like life art would have no meaning without it and it comes to us from the birth place of dreams and it is as real as forever if we all just belive and its really that easy which isn't easy at all but we must never stop trying when we have found and we have fallen and been lucky enough to found ourselves blessed with its presence and that is of course my kind friend the magic and wonder of love
Seema Nov 2019
Like the torn pages of some book, my heart leaps in to look, dabs of watermark, screams with ache, shattering in the corner with a broken quil, scarttering ink
The spurts of red ooz, down the thin lining, skating through the white sheets
I think of, what my fears tend to paint, a terrible sin, taled by a dark saint
Robed in pale, clear as a glass trans, bears the spurts with that of an ink mark
Glows with the hit of ray, ignites the jealous spark of the impossibilities
S..sshhh!
It's breath, hovers my shoulder with a sticky wetness odor
Clenching and sniffing as if ripping my veins out of order
A slight touch of my hand spooked ****** ambience in a blink
Of that of some air brush smearing spurts of ***** ink...


©sim
Spilling imagination.
Bobby Copeland Oct 2020
If words could transport, you'd be here,
Come south again romantically,
With Amorous Particulars,
To whisper most emphatically,
Your quil gon penetrate the veil.
Good English words cannot define
The love you sing, the way you wail
This canted language of the vine.
I'll wet your lips with syllables
Your other wouldn't understand.
Come taste new pleasures, break some rules,
And move until you come undone.
These bits well moisten underthings,
Come be my love, unsheath your wings.
Words And Phrases
urban dictionary

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