dayredeemer

[b]The Less[/b] we are the less without father, mother, sibling, child. we are not blessed, neither meek or mild. we are mustered by the evocation of memory at the ebony gates of our adversary. psycholgical scars run like fault lines through our gathered throng. our parched voices sing the changes: an ancient song in our mother tongue. for many a long year we have not known fear or loathing, now immersed in the updraft of terror's wings. all but the graves are gone our land is nought without nation. as the spirit has died we are twice tongue tied. we are the less. -

The Pub Time enough to tell our tales Of wonderment at the ever changing world As we spin our stories upon the evening air, Made rich by our love of unmomentous moments shared: It is the stillness between dancing steps, The gracious droop of laughing eyes, The half unspoken, half unsung Fact of our friendship That keeps trouble waiting outside the tavern door, And us, ever breathless, for more, more, more.

[b]Frogs and Princesses[/b] (in honour of Grido) an anxious frog from a pad on his pond would ponder upon the proximity of princesses. they would perplex him with their appetites for picnics beneath parasols whilst practising kisses. one day a chef from the castle was summoned with garlic and herbs he buttered the girls' lips and off came the frog's legs in two scissor snips. No more hopping for a brighter future. [b]Bonedog[/b] Bonedog and Creamcat: tenacious, content One followed the other wherever she went: Excepting treetops and other high places, then he wou

Five Thorns As she nestled her blue orchid love beside his scarlet rose, she felt an arid, aromatic breeze descend like cardamon dust, and in that moment she gave herself away.She knew. Heart crushed, her berry-blushed lips bled ruby tears. There were those who had born witness to their courtship vows; the misheard ensnared percussive tattoo of love empemeral. But as the morning shade gathered under the yawning trees the light revealed a back-scratched promise broken.Skin deep. And embedded in her foliage green there lay blooded five abandoned thorns.

Mirth Listen... Listen... Listen to the elemental orchestra of water Filling to the brim the basins and bowels of the earth with music, Each chiming chord regulated by The Maestro's Fluid, tempered hand. Today, without the wind and absent rain The baton rests and Mirth takes a leaving bow. The fountain's chorus sleeping, the whirlpool's rondo aquiet. The low meandering river hymns its bleeding threnody, And the mouth that kisses the ocean's lips surrenders the sweetest of lyrics with an exhausted sigh. Tomorrow the land will be dry. It falls to Memory to sh