The Wishing Well

If  you wish into the wishing well

The wish you wish to come true

Then stick your finger in the water

And swirl it in the blue,

Your wish will be granted

Just whisper in the well

Closer, closer, closer –

TOO CLOSE! You fell.

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This Doesn’t Have A Name….

This is just a little scene I wrote a while ago. Hope you like it!

The cold steel pressed against my neck and I sucked in my breath, as if somehow that would help.

“Well,” I said, my voice a whisper in the damp cellar, “are you going to kill me?” I searched his face defiantly.  “What are you waiting for?”

“Nothing,” he snarled in a bestial voice, using his elbow to shove me against the damp stone wall. He kept his knife held to my throat, and though his face remained inscrutable, his hand shook slightly.

“Then do it,” I hissed softly, “do it now, while I’m cornered. Do it while you have the chance…………….or are you such a coward that you can’t?”

His normally roguish face looked disconcerted for a minute, then he dug his elbow further into my stomach.

“I’m no coward,” he said, his voice low, barely hiding the anger underneath.

“Really?” I sneered derisively, leaning back from his knife, “I beg to differ. You’re just a coward. A coward who has the audacity to threaten and scare the woman he once loved, but he can’t kill her -”

“SHUT UP!” He roared, enraged, and his knife dug into my throat. I felt several beads of blood drip down my neck. “Inever……loved….you,” he hissed in my face irately.

“That’s a lie,” I breathed, staring into his eyes, “You loved me, and you know you did, even if you’re disgusted by the sight of me now, like I am disgusted by the sight of you.”

“You lie,” he said and made a convulsive movement with the knife, causing more blood to spill.

“Then kill me,” I whispered, keeping my voice empty, trying to withhold the enmity boiling inside me.

Perhaps it was the realization of what he was about to do, or perhaps it was just a moment of pity, but for whatever reason, the vindictive look in his eyes flickered and he lowered the knife a centimeter, hesitating. I seized my chance.

In that one moment, I grabbed his hand holding the knife. He slammed me against the wall, trying to force the knife towards me with his hands. I struggled to push him back, but it was hopeless. The knife slowly neared my face. As I attempted to push away the knife, I saw my abandoned dagger laying on the floor out of the corner of my eye.

I surreptitiously inched my foot towards it, struggling. But it was no use. He had me up against the wall. So I did the first thing that came to mind. I brought my knee up into his crotch. Hard.

“Ah,” He gasped, dropping the knife and sinking to the floor in pain, his eyes protuberant. I jumped over him, grabbed his knife, then snatched up my dagger. For a moment, I kneeled there stoically, breathing hard and staring down at him, laying on the floor in pain.

Then I jumped up, tossed my dagger in the air and caught it ostentatiously, fitting it right back into the holster at my hip. His knife in hand, I rushed over to the cellar door and pulled on the handle. It was locked. I reached for my pocket, where a cache of lock-picking tools were hidden, but out of the corner of my eye, I noticed him struggling to his feet.

My astute eyes scanned the room and I noticed a window, placed high upon the wall, almost touching the ceiling. Using my little strength left, I ran the length of the room, jumping as hard as I could. I barely grasped the ledge. My fingernails scrabbled at the dirt and stone as I tried to heave myself over the ledge. I could hear his unsteady footsteps stumbling behind me. Panic overcame my body and I pushed myself over with one final heave.

A couple of detrimental kicks and the window was open. It was a small window and my food – deprived, emaciated body just barely fit through.

I stuck my head back in, determined to fit in one last word. He glared up at me, hatred etched in every line of his face.

“You’re lucky I am not a killer,” I said, my voice cold, though I was breathing heavily, “As I’m lucky you’re not either.”

I didn’t wait for my words to sink in. I pulled my head out of the window, and sprinted into the distance, leaving behind only the memory of my enigmatic departure.

Poet’s Paradise

Have you ever been

Where the rhyming tree grows?

Where the brook really babbles

And the whispering wind blows?

Come in to the Poet’s Paradise

And have a look around

Pick some sentence fragments

Sprouting out of the ground

Let Symbolism land on your hand

And feel her tiny heartbeat

A slow, steady, solemn pulse

From one so little, fragile, petite

Listen as the wild wind whispers

Words into your ear

If you can stand very still

Amazing things you’ll hear

Kneel beside the silvery stream

A mix of water and ink

Trace your name into the surface

And dare to take a drink

The fish are made of magic

They murmur mesmerizing thoughts

Run your fingers along the rhyming tree

 – You’ll find Alliteration in the knots

Sit in the colorful shade

Beneath the golden rhyming leaves

Reach out a hand and catch a few

And stash them up your sleeves

Come and stitch a story

With the idea flurries coming down

Break some pencils off the trees for needles

– There’s plenty growing around

Climb the broad branches

Of the giant rhyming tree

And if you’d like a pillow

Use some golden rhyming leaves

Lay down among the branches

Watch the sun set in the sky

Listen to the low hoot of the Metaphor

And slowly shut your eyes

Hear the leaves rustle in the darkness

The scurrying sound of the Similes

Listen to Hyperbole’s howl

As you are gently lulled to sleep

Tendrils of Imagery hang down from above

And cling to your ink-stained fingers

They wrap around your thoughts

Where traces of rhyme still linger

Everything is quiet and still

But only for tonight

In the morning, the bending boughs beckon

Come into the Poet’s Paradise

Too

This poem isn’t my best, but I wrote it because I was a little annoyed at a comment someone made. Thought I’d post it. Why not? 🙂

This is a letter from me

To the annoying word too:

Dear Too,

What’s wrong with you?

Why must you be

So very judgmental?

Too pretty, too ugly

Much too sentimental

Too fake, too real

Too soft, too hard

Too cold, too hot

Too clean, too scarred

Too mean, too nice

Too rich, too poor

Too short, too tall

Must I list more?

You’re getting on my nerves

I really must say

I’ve had about enough

Of you for today.

But on second thought,

Maybe I’m being a little quick to judge

Now that I think about it

You must have a grudge

People always put the emphasis on you

TOO dirty, TOO lazy, TOO dumb

All that weight must be awfully heavy

I’ll bet your back is now numb

No wonder you’re always so judgmental

I know I’d be too

If I had to carry all that weight on me

By the end of the day, I’d be through

So, I’m sorry for the reprimand

I realize now I was unfair

 You’re just doing your job

So don’t worry too much; hang in there!

Friendship

Those days I drenched my thoughts in

Laughter, pinky promises

Unbrushed hair

Classroom whispers

And truths or dares

Like images on strips of film

Hook them up and crank the wheel

And through the static and fading memory –

I see you

Running alongside me

Make-believe and play-pretend

Magic flowing through our veins

Your messy ponytail –

Ideas and spells intertwined in the tangles

Your crooked smile –

Triumph and innocence stained on your teeth

Your dirty feet –

Freedom caked along your heel and squished in between your toes

And I’m right next to you

With laughter and adventure and trust

I need you

To save me from the boiling lava below my swing set

You need me

To hold your dolly while you use the bathroom

I need you

Like you need me

As real as grilled cheese and picnic blankets

Superheroes and bad guys

As the film reel comes to an end

I realize

Maybe our teeth are straight

And our toes are painted

And our hair is brushed

But inside my heart

Among the trees and the wind

You will always be

Running alongside me