1. Nov, 2019

Only the crow stays now--

a faithful jester

cutting the grey air

with its cry.

Apples, red and green, hang

on the branches

like suspended Autumn thoughts --


I gather red leaves

and decorate my desk.

I light a candle and wait

for the voices of my ancestors

to run through my veins,

to shake and rattle my bones

like music,

to whisper softly in my ears.

By now the mist has lifted

and the air is still.

White houses with red roofs

dot the hillside, half asleep.

Today, the land lies flat

and meek. Stillness is

its language, but for 

its hidden spells.

Magic is afoot, if you

only listen.


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31. Oct, 2019


Dawn breaks yet again.

The queen has the tyrant’s corpse

Thrown to the dogs. She feels no more.

No longer a defiant princess, she’s come

Into her own.

Ravens and crows fly overhead.

The sky is overcast. Wind blasts rage

In her stone heart.

Will the queen ever dance again –-




Photo by Dark Indigo from Pexels

27. Oct, 2019


The queen is strangely quiet tonight.

The tyrant wonders.

He marvels at her wild, quivering beauty,

Her fierce gaze, her stone voice,

Her seductive ways.

Oh, the tyrant is falling in love.

And when she draws him into her

Chambers, he wants to cry and fall

At her feet in adoration…

But a terrible hag, with eyes like burning

Coals, clutches at his arm.

He tries to escape, to find a way out,

All in vain.

Don’t you recognise her, tyrant –

It’s the same old hag that advised

You wisely.

What did you do with her advice –

You chose with a proud heart, you

Had your evil way. Now, slide

Into nothingness.


Photo by Nilay Ramoliya from Pexels

13. Oct, 2019


The princess’s eyes are ablaze now.

She throws the key and sees her destiny.

In this darkest hour, she invokes her,

The Dark Mother of all those that seek

Redress and retribution.


Come – Mother – come.

Make me burn with your unquenching fire.

Turn me into a cold dagger, into a deathly

Nightmare, that I may tear the tyrant’s heart

From his chest.


And the Dark Mother comes.


Tonight, my child, you are to bring

The wretched beast to me.

22. Sep, 2019


And just when all seems lost, the key

Clicks in the lock and opens the forbidden door.

All the darkness and stench of the world

Jump at her and suck her inside.

Her feline eyes see in the dark.

There’s an unsealed coffin on some planks.

The lid has been removed.

She trembles and stumbles in the dark,

And when she is near enough, she covers

Her mouth and opens her eyes wide in a wild,

Piercing, soundless cry.

Her prince is lying there.

As handsome as ever; yet no longer

Dancing and laughing. She covers his smooth

Brow with everlasting kisses. His full lips

Are pressed into a sad line.

He, the prince of all the dances, frozen

Into the baffling stillness of death.

He himself dreams of his cruel lot

In a stupor of disbelief.


Photo by Irina Iriser from Pexels