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Found 5 results

  1. This is Just to Say I have painted the gnolls that were in the side bin and which you were probably saving for Gen Con Forgive me they were so vicious full armed and so cute
  2. With my most sincere apologies to the great Dr. Seuss, I present to you: How Guindyloo Bought a New Christmas Most forumites in Reaperville were careful with what they bought But one Miss Guindyloo Who on the forum certainly was NOT! Guindyloo hated budgeting! She felt the very thought was treason! Now, you needn't ask why, for by the end I'll have told you the reason. It could be you won't think that she's right, Surely most don't want their funds stretched so tight. But I think the most important thing to remember of all, Is that Guindyloo earned every pay check, no m
  3. This poem was written in honour of those Irish who have had to emigrate during our current economic crises. Things are so difficult that six Irish people leave for every minute that passes. It is about the pain of leaving and finding oneself in a foreign country, not their own. On Going Home And Taking Leave Trailing into myth her past flows, screaming through my veins. And I like a lover longing, replete return to her embrace. To walk again the shattered path of History, torn, stained by boots on bloodied ground. She, from who's womb emerged giants, men of letter
  4. This poem is dedicated to my husband. It is a reflection of the time we spent alone together before the birth of our daughter whose name is Jazz. Sepia memories edgewise slip past days piled high like laundry into years. Before Jazz, you, with your Flamingo* smile proposed a marriage consummate with myth and nodding mounted my assent. In days early whilst sleeping late, time in limbo waited among a detritus of desire, entangled we lay Your tongue cuneiform traced against sibilant skin and with patterns cunning wove a life. With reptilian n
  5. RABBIT I cross this desert snow, leaving prints of puddled light; my passing only a whisper soft as between lovers. A ring of trees stand, naked in supplication to a moon, pregnant swollen with night. As if conjured, you appear from a place of howling need; Did I invent you? Memorized, your form; perfection perched, soul parched, like water
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