The Seuss is on the loose
I had to fix a leaky leak
So under the house I did creep
With a bottle of gooey blue glue
To try to stop a drop or two
Blue glue goo now is in my hair
Blue glue goo is everywhere
On my hands there's quite a bit
Onto my skin it did stick
To dry into azure flakes
Under my nails it did cake
So, to try to fix a leaky pipe
I may be blue to rest of my life
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Elven Dance
Elven dance
Sprites and fairies dance in the night
Around a secluded forest glen
While elves and pixies sing and laugh
At the beauty of life found within
Above it all a diamond dusted sky
And moon in glory, all aglow
While timidly the bride enters the dance
With steps both dainty and slow
Faster the beat is heard from the band
Under torches that sway with the fun
While pipes cry out with glorious pride
Along with the beatings chants of the drum
The music gets bolder and faster now
As the handsome groom steps near
With sturdy step and keen eye does he
His antlered head proudly rear
Suddenly the dance in its frenzied pace
Halts suddenly, and goes strangely dim
As bride meets groom, hand and hand
Until she meekly smiles at him
Laughter erupts from the trees around
And the music squeals aloud as it plays
They dance till all leave for weary slumber
And then they bless the land once again
Around a secluded forest glen
While elves and pixies sing and laugh
At the beauty of life found within
Above it all a diamond dusted sky
And moon in glory, all aglow
While timidly the bride enters the dance
With steps both dainty and slow
Faster the beat is heard from the band
Under torches that sway with the fun
While pipes cry out with glorious pride
Along with the beatings chants of the drum
The music gets bolder and faster now
As the handsome groom steps near
With sturdy step and keen eye does he
His antlered head proudly rear
Suddenly the dance in its frenzied pace
Halts suddenly, and goes strangely dim
As bride meets groom, hand and hand
Until she meekly smiles at him
Laughter erupts from the trees around
And the music squeals aloud as it plays
They dance till all leave for weary slumber
And then they bless the land once again
Monday, September 13, 2010
Shadows of the Mind
Chaperter 1
Lady Penelope Fitzadams knew someone in the room was about to die. It wasn't a matter of doubt for that was a certainty, it was just a matter of who. She looked around the cigar smoke laden room of assembled gentry. Her boor of a husband had demanded she attend to impress his friends yet again with her talents. How she hated when he forced her to use her troublesome gifts like some sideshow freak. She meekly adjusted the pleats of her dress as she seated herself at the small table provided for her. She daintily removed her hat and gloves while her husband heckled and taunted the crowd with his endless stale jokes between gulps of flat beer with his loud and brash manner. So much for breeding, she thought. One would think from his display that he were a common street vendor hawking his wares instead of a rich and well landed lord. Then again on rare occasions he had his uses.
She gave a start as a gloved hand placed a small glass of sherry on the table before her. She looked up to see the wrinkled bearded face of Major Jarvis Sheridan. He gave her a sad little smile which seemed to tell her that he understood a bit of the indignity she was feeling. She knew well the injuries and imprisonment he and her father had endured while captured during a failed battle in India. His dedication and hidden inner strength had been quite paramount in their escape. Years later, after her father's death he had often came to visit and she held him in high regard. The fact that he had publicly protested her marriage to Lord Fitzadams had given her pause to the point that she had almost called off the ceremony. Now it was far too late, but she had been young and not as knowing in the ways of the world then. Now she employed him as her personal aide and bodyguard. A condition which irked her husband greatly, which now pleased her even more than a little if she were to admit it.
Her maid Sarah handed her the small worn velvet purse that contained the articles of her current embarrassment. The crowded room seem to pause for a second and catch its collective breath as she opened it and removed the tattered deck of cards. While she quietly straightened them into a rough order Sarah dimmed the flickering gas lights about the room and opened a window to 'invite' the knowing friendlier spirits of the night. As chairs were scrapped closer into circle around the tattered and faded colorful carpet, the sturdy Major stood vigil behind her demanding that the ruffians leave her enough room to breath. Several offered rebuke for his rough speech but with a glance of his glowing, brass rimmed eye they settled down deciding not to take offense. Although his injuries over the years had been numerous, His Majesties surgeons had done their best for him. Later aide from private doctors and inventors with the gratefully assistance of her father's wealth and influence had refined them further. The fact that they both lived full and useful lives, that is until her father's untimely death, with only the occasional twinge of pain and rare needful repair attested to the quality of the masterful handiwork done upon them.
Sarah lit a small bronze brazier in the corner of the room and speckled it with a tiny pouch of fragrant herbage that lent a smoke across the assemblage which curled and twisted with the breeze provided by the open window. Sarah, being an old hand to these gatherings knew what was expected from the crowd, danced and swayed and mumbled fanciful chants mixed with bits of singing, sometimes slow and low sometimes high and childlike. The crowd, as usual, seemed suitably impressed. The musical accent of her island home mixed with her dark skin seemed almost unsettling at these times. One could almost hear the drums and chanting in the background, especially if you were really straining your imagination. The bits of bright cloth and beads mixed in with the embroidery on her clothing didn't hurt one bit either. She gave Lady Penelope a wink with a flash of a gleaming smile and asked with a small hand gesture if she was ready yet.
Penelope close her eyes and let out a slow breath as she attempted to clear her mind as Sarah's singing changed to a slower song, almost a lullaby in a different language. A few of the veteran's nodded quietly to each other knowing what was going to happen next. Penelope reached out with her mind seeking, searching for an image or pattern in the swirling chaotic fog that she alone sensed around her. The crowd were almost holding their breaths in anticipation so no distractions there. The outside noise from the street was hidden by Sarah's singing, a melody that she was quite familiar with and could use to help calm herself since they had long ago worked out which songs soothed her the best. She let her mind wander as her hands shuffled and laid the faded and tattered cards into random patterns on the table without notice. They were only props anyway. Oh word had gotten out that they were found in a dark and battered chest in a cobwebbed and sealed alcove of her great grandmothers attic. Long forgotten and hidden away by cunning plan of that wise and mysterious ancestor, and also reportedly cursed or damned for the power they gave the user. A power only usable by one of that ancient bloodline, and the user must also be female the story also told. Mystery and shadow, it seemed, painted quite the picture. A picture that her husband tried to sell again and again for the price of a business transaction here, a real estate deal there, a hidden alliance elsewhere.
The truth was that she had purchased them long ago as a child during an outing with her mother at a curio shop. Sarah had spotted them first, drawn to their bright colors and intricate illustrations and shown them to Penelope. She had hesitantly asked her mother, fearing a scolding, and was a bit surprised by the thoughtful look on her mother's face before she had given her approval for the purchase.
Later that night she had been called to the study where mother and father had sat reading after dinner. When the servants had departed and the doors closed she was told by worried faces that they knew of her 'talent'.
Lady Penelope Fitzadams knew someone in the room was about to die. It wasn't a matter of doubt for that was a certainty, it was just a matter of who. She looked around the cigar smoke laden room of assembled gentry. Her boor of a husband had demanded she attend to impress his friends yet again with her talents. How she hated when he forced her to use her troublesome gifts like some sideshow freak. She meekly adjusted the pleats of her dress as she seated herself at the small table provided for her. She daintily removed her hat and gloves while her husband heckled and taunted the crowd with his endless stale jokes between gulps of flat beer with his loud and brash manner. So much for breeding, she thought. One would think from his display that he were a common street vendor hawking his wares instead of a rich and well landed lord. Then again on rare occasions he had his uses.
She gave a start as a gloved hand placed a small glass of sherry on the table before her. She looked up to see the wrinkled bearded face of Major Jarvis Sheridan. He gave her a sad little smile which seemed to tell her that he understood a bit of the indignity she was feeling. She knew well the injuries and imprisonment he and her father had endured while captured during a failed battle in India. His dedication and hidden inner strength had been quite paramount in their escape. Years later, after her father's death he had often came to visit and she held him in high regard. The fact that he had publicly protested her marriage to Lord Fitzadams had given her pause to the point that she had almost called off the ceremony. Now it was far too late, but she had been young and not as knowing in the ways of the world then. Now she employed him as her personal aide and bodyguard. A condition which irked her husband greatly, which now pleased her even more than a little if she were to admit it.
Her maid Sarah handed her the small worn velvet purse that contained the articles of her current embarrassment. The crowded room seem to pause for a second and catch its collective breath as she opened it and removed the tattered deck of cards. While she quietly straightened them into a rough order Sarah dimmed the flickering gas lights about the room and opened a window to 'invite' the knowing friendlier spirits of the night. As chairs were scrapped closer into circle around the tattered and faded colorful carpet, the sturdy Major stood vigil behind her demanding that the ruffians leave her enough room to breath. Several offered rebuke for his rough speech but with a glance of his glowing, brass rimmed eye they settled down deciding not to take offense. Although his injuries over the years had been numerous, His Majesties surgeons had done their best for him. Later aide from private doctors and inventors with the gratefully assistance of her father's wealth and influence had refined them further. The fact that they both lived full and useful lives, that is until her father's untimely death, with only the occasional twinge of pain and rare needful repair attested to the quality of the masterful handiwork done upon them.
Sarah lit a small bronze brazier in the corner of the room and speckled it with a tiny pouch of fragrant herbage that lent a smoke across the assemblage which curled and twisted with the breeze provided by the open window. Sarah, being an old hand to these gatherings knew what was expected from the crowd, danced and swayed and mumbled fanciful chants mixed with bits of singing, sometimes slow and low sometimes high and childlike. The crowd, as usual, seemed suitably impressed. The musical accent of her island home mixed with her dark skin seemed almost unsettling at these times. One could almost hear the drums and chanting in the background, especially if you were really straining your imagination. The bits of bright cloth and beads mixed in with the embroidery on her clothing didn't hurt one bit either. She gave Lady Penelope a wink with a flash of a gleaming smile and asked with a small hand gesture if she was ready yet.
Penelope close her eyes and let out a slow breath as she attempted to clear her mind as Sarah's singing changed to a slower song, almost a lullaby in a different language. A few of the veteran's nodded quietly to each other knowing what was going to happen next. Penelope reached out with her mind seeking, searching for an image or pattern in the swirling chaotic fog that she alone sensed around her. The crowd were almost holding their breaths in anticipation so no distractions there. The outside noise from the street was hidden by Sarah's singing, a melody that she was quite familiar with and could use to help calm herself since they had long ago worked out which songs soothed her the best. She let her mind wander as her hands shuffled and laid the faded and tattered cards into random patterns on the table without notice. They were only props anyway. Oh word had gotten out that they were found in a dark and battered chest in a cobwebbed and sealed alcove of her great grandmothers attic. Long forgotten and hidden away by cunning plan of that wise and mysterious ancestor, and also reportedly cursed or damned for the power they gave the user. A power only usable by one of that ancient bloodline, and the user must also be female the story also told. Mystery and shadow, it seemed, painted quite the picture. A picture that her husband tried to sell again and again for the price of a business transaction here, a real estate deal there, a hidden alliance elsewhere.
The truth was that she had purchased them long ago as a child during an outing with her mother at a curio shop. Sarah had spotted them first, drawn to their bright colors and intricate illustrations and shown them to Penelope. She had hesitantly asked her mother, fearing a scolding, and was a bit surprised by the thoughtful look on her mother's face before she had given her approval for the purchase.
Later that night she had been called to the study where mother and father had sat reading after dinner. When the servants had departed and the doors closed she was told by worried faces that they knew of her 'talent'.
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