Canadian Pen Pal Part 9-11

I haven't written poetry in a while. So I've tried my hand at it again and yep, it's still as cheesy as before, but why not share it anyways.

Canadian Pen Pal Part 8

          "Tell me about Mother."
          "What exactly would you like me to tell?"
          "Everything."
          "Everything is a lot."
          "Everything!"
          "Alright, alright.
          "Your mother was the most beautiful person to me. Her long coal hair curled about her head like a lion's mane. Her blue eyes were as light as dawn but thrice as bright. She was tall and willowy, towering over many men, myself included. She carried herself like a warrior, eschewing the ways of a lady for the life led by the sword and shield. She was strong enough to wrestle a bear, skilled enough to disarm ten men, wise enough to know when to stand and when to fall, charming enough to win my heart, and brave enough to give her life to protect you.

Canadian Pen Pal Part 7

This piece is several pages long (on the small steno pad) and covers the legend/history of the land in Not a Hero:

A long time ago, the world was different. The fae practiced majic without restraint. Dragons flew from city to city to share their knowledge and services. The other mythical creatures were not so mythical and were as common as the mute animals that we know now. Humans were well kept as well.

The fae don't know where the humans came from; apprently they were found on the shore in tattered ships that were not fit to sail in the first place. The fae took in the miserable remnants of the new, strange rance and decided to foster them. The humans were homely compared to the fae and without majic. They had no special talents like many of the mythicals. They had no history or skill like the dragons. They were only somewhat more intelligent than the mundane beasts, but capable of language and learning.

The fae collectively decided to take on the humans and their developments as their pet project.

Canadian Pen Pal 4-6

Here are some more pages that I will be sending to my pen pal:

Canadian Pen Pal 1-3

So apparently I have picked up a Canadian pen pal. Don't ask. I don't have a good story and I'm not sure myself. She wants to send stories back and forth but not electronically. She wants my terrible handwriting apparently. I've decided to fill up one of those memo books with thoughts and writings and send the entire thing to her. I'll post some of the pieces here.

First three pages:

Writing. Writing. You ask me to write but you give me a blank piece of paper. The pencil hovers over the virgin paper and all thoughts scatter out of my brain. No words push down my arm, no letters dribble out of my fingers to stain the naked page. What to write, what to write... I stare at the blank sheet and hope my fickle muse whispers something in my ear. But she is a flighty bitch, only giving me ideas when I am in the shower, driving, or other inopportune times. It's a true love-hate relationship but every once in a while she blesses me and magic happens. The words flow out on paper, the story builds, the characters are fleshed out and then bled out for my purposes, and a tale is spun out from my thoughts, my dreams, my imaginary world that I've built in my head. But right now, I'm just staring at the blank page.

colors

Green

The soft quiet of the forest sinks into you, calming your mind and making your body relax against the soft moss the lined the hollow of the log that fits you like a throne. The happy babbling of the brook as the water tumbled over well worn down rocks pairs with the playful songs of the birds that you catch flitting from branch to branch overhead to stave off silence. The brushing of branches and rustling of leaves that are pushed around by teasing breezes don't quite mask the bustling of the small forest creatures or the buzz of insects as they work on their homes. With closed eyes, you tilt your head back against the spongy green material. You stretch out your legs and dip your toes in the cool rushing water that makes a serpentine pattern through your paradise. You breathe in deeply, feeling the clean air fill your lungs with health and forest musk. You feel the spots of warming sun move over your skin as the branches shift above you and the dappled shadows dance on the ground. You purposefully relax all of your muscles, letting your now heavy limbs sink down against cushioning plant life. Everything is calm and peaceful in your forest glade.