once-upon-a-time-free-ebook

Once upon 

A time 

-2012- 

POETRY 

BY 

BARRY MOWLES 

& 

FRIENDS 

DESTINY TO WRITE PUBLICATIONS ©

BIOGRAPHY 

BARRY MOWLES 

Barry Mowles is a 31 year old diverse poet, creative writer & poetry publisher from Ipswich, 

England. 

In May 2008 he moved across the UK, and now lives with his Wife & children close to 

Cardiff in Wales. 

In March 2011 he decided to start work on creating his very first paperback poetry book, and 

less than 18 months later he has just published his 15 th title. 

In January 2012 Barry designed his very own poetry publishing company, and 

“Destiny to Write Publications” was born. 

Barry then started to create a successful collection of anthologies, using social networks to 

find undiscovered worldwide poets; he has now helped over 150 talented writers achieve their 

dreams in becoming published authors. 

Barry’s poetry book collection is now being read in many different countries right across the 

globe, with an ever expanding audience. 

He writes about destiny, life, death, love, heartbreak & real life issues, and recently he 

wrote a number of poems based on the events of World Trade 9/11, for which he received 

worldwide critical acclaim. 

To contact Barry or to view his work, please check out his links below. 

MY BOOKSTORE 

www.lulu.com/spotlight/barrymowles7 

MY NEW POETRY BLOG 

poetrybybarrymowles.wordpress.com/ 

FIND ME ON FACEBOOK 

www.facebook.com/poetrybybarrymowles 

www.facebook.com/pages/Poetry-by-Barry-Mowles-FAN-PAGE 

http://www.facebook.com/groups/destinytowrite/ 

FOLLOW ME ON TWITTER 

www.twitter.com/barrymowlespoet 

EMAIL 

destinytowrite@live.co.uk 

…… 

bmowles@live.co.uk

2012 

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DE'VIDE 

De' Vide consists of two members : 

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A New Fresh Innovative Music Group from the UK. 

Their sound can best be described as a crisp fusion of Hiphop, R&B, 

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ONCE UPON 

A TIME 

-2012- 

DEDICATED TO 

LIANNE 

CHLOE 

SHAYLEIGH 

& 

TO ALL MY FAMILY AND FRIENDS 

ALSO IN LOVING MEMORY 

NAN & GRANDAD 

MARION 

& 

JOHN MOWLES 

I HOPE I’VE MADE YOU PROUD

DESTINY TO WRITE 

PUBLICATIONS 

*INCLUDED POEMS ARE BASED ON THE PERSONAL MEMORIES OF THE CLASSIC 

FAIRY tales that will all know and love

THE SPEECH THAT CHANGED MY LIFE… 

KEEP MOVING FORWARD 

―You aren‘t going to believe this, but you use to fit right here, I‘d hold you up and 

say to your Mother ‗this kid is going to be the best kid in the world, this kid is 

going to be somebody better than anybody ever knew‘. 

And you grew up good and wonderful; it was great just watching, everyday was 

like a privilege. 

Then the time came for you to be your own man, and take on the world, and you 

did. But somewhere along the line you changed, you stopped being you, you let 

people stick a finger in your face, and tell you you‘re no good. 

And when things got hard, you started looking for something to blame… like a big 

shadow‖. 

Let me tell you something you already know, the world isn‘t all sunshine and 

rainbows, it‘s a very mean and nasty place. I don‘t care how tough you are it will 

beat you to your knees, and keep you there if you let it. 

You, me or nobody is going to hit as hard as life, but it isn‘t about how hard you 

hit, it‘s about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward, how much you 

can take and keep moving forward… that‘s how winning is done. 

If you know what you‘re worth, go and get what you‘re worth, but you got to be 

willing to take the hits, not pointing fingers saying you aren‘t where you want to 

be, because of him or her or anybody. 

Cowards do that, and that isn‘t you!!! 

You‘re better than that‖ 

-ROCKY BALBOA–

WITH SPECIAL THANKS TO INCLUDED POETS 

ANN CARRUTH DONOGHUE 

RENETTA SERCHIO 

ARCHNA PANT 

AMPAT KOSHY 

SATIN-DESEREE M ARNETT 

JENNY LESSING WIGGINS 

MITCH CARMICHAEL 

WILLIAM GAYLORD 

AMITABH VIKRAM DWIVEDI 

REENA PRASAD 

ANGEL MEREDITH 

POOJA SHARMA RAO 

RUKHAYA MK 

CHRISTOPHER LAWRENCE 

MICHELE BARON 

KELLY ROACH 

SAYANTAN GUPTA 

LAURA C LaVEGLIA 

LISA ZIMMERMAN 

SHYAM 

BOB STRUM 

SANTA VETTURI 

ELVIRA LOBO 

KATICA VRHOVAC KRAKAN 

MADHUMITA GHOSH 

BRANDON HOGAN

1. ONCE UPON A TIME 

2. PINOCCHIO 

3. LONELY WITCH 

4. NEVERLAND 

5. SUPERMAN 

CONTENTS 

6. RED – ANN CARRUTH DONOGHUE 

7. LIL RED RIDING HOOD – RENETTA SERCHIO 

8. HANSEL & GRETEL – ARCHNA PANT 

9. MARY HAD A NOKIA – AMPAT KOSHY 

10. WENDY, MY DARLING – SATIN-DESEREE M ARNETT 

11. ALMOST ALICE IN WONDERLAND – JENNY LESSING WIGGINS 

12. LONESOME LITTLE MERMAID – MITCH CARMICHAEL 

13. LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD – WILLIAM GAYLORD 

14. BLACK CROW – AMITABH VIKRAM DWIVEDI 

15. RUPUNZEL, RAPUNZEL! LET DOWN YOUR HAIR – REENA PRASAD 

16. WHATEVER HAPPENED – ANGEL MEREDITH 

17. CINDERELLA 21 St CENTURY – POOJA SHARMA RAO 

18. WINDOWS 2012…A COMPUTER ADDICT – RUKHAYA MK 

19. WHEN THE WOLF AWAITS – CHRISTOPHER LAWRENCE 

20. BEAUTY IS THE BEAST – MICHELE BARON 

21. STORYBOOK HEROES – KELLY ROACH 

22. THE RHYME OF HUMPTY & DUMPTY – SAYANTAN GUPTA 

23. THE FAMOUS BOY OF NEVERLAND – LAURA C LaVEGLIA 

24. RAPUNZEL, AFTER – LISA ZIMMERMAN 

25. NURSERY REWIND – SHYAM 

26. FAIRY TALES – BOB STRUM 

27. BEAUTY & THE BEAST – SANTA VETTURI 

28. SLEEPING BEAUTY & HER ROYAL KNIGHT – ELVIRA LOBO 

29. FOREDOOMED – KATICA VRHOVAC KRAKAN 

30. HUMPTY DUMPTY – MADHUMITA GHOSH 

31. I THOUGHT I SAW A PUTTIE TAT – BRANDON HOGAN

ONCE UPON A TIME 

Somewhere along the line I have misplaced my childhood, when 

stories came to life and taught me how to shine; 

I need to rewind the clocks back to when the world still had colour, 

and when stories began with, once upon a time. 

My reflection is starting to show its age, but each morning I still find 

myself whispering ―mirror, mirror on the wall‖; 

It‘s strange how some stories can stay in your heart, 

Like poor old Humpty Dumpty who had a great fall. 

For so many years I acted like a lost boy, I once swore I would 

never grow up, just like Peter Pan; 

I guess I broke that promise, as this ageing reflection now shines 

back a middle aged looking man. 

The Gingerbread man didn‘t want to get swallowed up whole, so he 

spent his days on the run; 

I learnt about death from an early age, after seeing Bambi lose his 

Mum. 

3 little pigs were bullied by the big bad wolf as he shouted, 

―Little pig, little pig let me come in‖; 

I now look at my life as if I were a tortoise racing against that hare, 

you can run as fast as you like, because I am already destined to 

win. 

Social services would have a field day with that old lady who lived 

in a shoe, after reading reports she whipped her children soundly 

and sent them straight to bed; 

Why was Miss riding hood more worried about the size of her 

grandma‘s eyes, when surely she should have been more concerned 

about the fur and a snout on her Nan‘s head.

The recluse Rapunzel always had an excuse for not going out, I bet 

she always use to say ―not tonight love, sorry but I am still washing 

my hair‖; 

An ugly duckling can turn into a beautiful swan, but after being 

abandoned by his family I bet his heart is still broken beyond repair. 

A paedophilic witch tried to lure Hansel & Gretel into her sweet 

house, on the promise of a feast; 

I was taught that love grows from the inside out, just like when 

Belle saw the inner beauty shinning from the beast. 

3 Blind mice stumble around in the darkness, as Chicken Licken 

worries so much about global warming he thinks the sky is falling; 

Pinocchio spent his days praying, until finally his fairy godmother 

heard him calling. 

The beautiful Cinderella shone like a star, she was never destined 

to stay hidden away in her Mother‘s house all on her own; 

The camp Prince Charming was hiding so far back in the closet he 

was in Narnia, where the Snow Queen turned people‘s dreams into 

stone. 

Every parent felt Marlin‘s pain, after his Son Nemo was snatched 

away from his home in the Ocean; 

Snow White broke the cardinal sin by taking an apple from a 

stranger, which just so happened to be soaked in the witches‘ 

potion. 

Little Bo Peep is now facing a life on benefits after losing her flock, 

but maybe she should try asking the master, or that little boy who 

lived down the lane; 

As you get older you read these verses with a whole new 

perspective, but deep down the story still remains the same. 

When I read these stories the pages come to life, if you listen 

carefully you can hear these verses sing; 

Throughout my life I have had Giant Goliaths doubting my chances 

of success, but it just so happens I can use this pen as a sling.

Somewhere along the line I have misplaced my childhood, when 

stories came to life and taught me how to shine; 

At last I have finally found my way through this tunnel of darkness, 

and remembered the lost letters which always begun with, 

Once Upon A Time. 

BARRY MOWLES ©2012

PINOCCHIO 

Wooden hands creek as they grow, these puppet strings control my 

movements, as my reflection now resembles a toy; 

Each day I only ever have just one wish, and that is to be a real boy. 

Society telling me I am not normal, I have pieces of me which are 

now broken beyond repair; 

My shiny button eyes now hide my emotions, 

So why do people always have to stare? 

I may have wooden ears, but I can still hear my sculptured 

mahogany heart beating, as it splinters through my dreams; 

A dusty pile of shavings is all that now blows out with my screams. 

I am expected to grow, because deep down I am a tree; 

Through the window I see children playing, whilst I just sit on this 

shelf being me. 

I wish I was normal, I wish I had eye lids as sometimes the suns 

reflection is just too bright; 

If I was born, then can I die? 

And just who taught this wooden hand how to write. 

When I shave I use sandpaper, when I cry all you will see is the 

dust; 

The hinges holding my joints together are starting to creak with the 

rust. 

I am the wood that holds your pencil, encased around this lead; 

A lifetime full of broken promises are now carved out as memories 

through my head. 

I see people walking by my window every day, hiding under their 

umbrellas from the rain; 

People just use me to fuel their fires, and I always react just like a 

moth to the flame.

People judge me for being different, I see that same dust each time 

that I bleed; 

Can a puppet really have ambition? 

As all I want to do is succeed. 

When it‘s dark my reflection shines back through the window, 

unveiling the tears of a clown sliding down this broken toy; 

If I had a fairy godmother I would only ever have just one wish, and 

that is to be a real boy. 

BARRY MOWLES ©2012

LONELY WITCH 

A fairy tale princess is what you want to read about, but I hide in 

the shadows so that nobody can see; 

I am just a lonely witch sat here crying, secretly wishing that 

somebody would love me. 

I am working on my latest spell, a curse, a potion, so the next time 

you see me you will all fall head over heels; 

My cauldron begins to bubble, as I drop in 4 frogs, and 2 electric 

eels. 

I stir the mixture before adding the eye of a newt, and the tail from 

a sewer rat; 

I drop in the double chin of a man, as we need that extra fat. 

The head of a chicken, the penis from a toad; 

A little pinch of T.N.T will make this potion explode. 

I use the testicles of a crocodile, the salty taste should give me that 

extra little kick; 

O dear I almost forgot to add, a drunken teenager‘s sick. 

I drizzle in the tears of a clown, closely followed by some freshly 

squeezed lizards piss; 

I have read the same fairy tales as you, but I am still sat here 

searching for true loves first kiss. 

I add the toe nail clippings of a tramp, seasoned off with some 

freshly cut pubic hair; 

This lonely feeling is inescapable, I feel like I am crying out for help 

but nobody is ever there. 

The potion is almost complete, but will it work? 

If I am honest I am not feeling all that confident; 

People are always calling me names like ―ugly hag‖, but in my 

profession we would call that a compliment.

Just as I take a sip of the bubbling potion, my grey hair turns 

blonde, my skin becomes smooth, and I no longer feel like a bitch; 

My once green teeth now shine white, and my eyes begin to twinkle, 

as I whisper goodbye to that once lonely witch. 

BARRY MOWLES ©2012

NEVERLAND 

Mirror, mirror on the wall who is the fairest of them all, but no 

answer shines back from the glass, and my reflection now never 

seems to age; 

Love has me stuck between worlds, giving me a reason to spill 

some more ink out on to this page. 

My shadow is busy packing his suitcase, because he misses our 

home; 

My shadow is my only friend, and if he leaves me I will be left here 

all on my own. 

Weeks turn into months, months into years, as the world around me 

seems to be getting smaller; 

My love for Wendy will never fade, even though she appears to be 

getting taller. 

I miss my shadow, I miss my friends, and living in this reality was 

something I had never really planned; 

I miss my lost boys, I miss Tinkerbell, but most of all I miss my 

home, neverland. 

Each night whilst Wendy sleeps I gaze out the window staring at my 

planet, which from earth now resembles a star; 

I try to reach out to touch the skies but it‘s no use, it is just too far. 

By falling in love with a human I have sacrificed my ability to fly; 

But I must admit your world has taught me one thing, I have now 

learnt how to cry. 

It‘s now been so many years since I‘ve seen my shadow, Wendy is 

now a fully grown lady, but my reflection still shines back that of a 

boy; 

I spend so long on my own when Wendy goes to work, just sitting in 

her room like a discarded toy.

My body maybe that of a child, but inside my heart I know this world 

has changed me into a man; 

So now I spend my days writing, signing letters with love from 

Peter Pan. 

I use to live in a fairy tale, with my days and nights filled with joy 

and laughter; 

But the reality of my fate is finally hitting home, there is no such 

thing as happily ever after. 

I am the loneliest soul on this planet, nobody to talk to, with nobody 

to listen and understand; 

They say home is where the heart is, but I am afraid my heart will 

always belong to Neverland. 

BARRY MOWLES ©2012

SUPERMAN 

I can move with the wind, I can fly up high in the sky; 

I have stab proof skin, and there are no tears when I cry. 

I can move so fast, sound cannot even catch me; 

I can fly with the speed of light, so I am already living my destiny. 

I can see into the future, its tiny whispers appear to sound so loud; 

I can choose anywhere to be my home, I can even make my bed 

inside of a cloud. 

I will never get any older, my skin will never age; 

My heart is a recluse, that‘s locked itself away in a cage. 

I can move mountains, I can tell if someone is a liar; 

I have a heart made from ice, and words so cold it could extinguish 

every single fire. 

I can walk on water, and from the ashes I can rise above; 

I may not be human, but I still need to feel love. 

I am immortal, creation was my master plan; 

Keep your eyes on the heavens, Who am I ? 

I am SuperMan. 

BARRY MOWLES ©2011

RED 

ANN CARRUTH DONOGHUE ©2012 

Red didn‘t heed the warnings of family and friends, 

lost her heart to the big bad wolf, 

guess you know how this one ends, 

fooled by charm and swagger, 

kind words and a smile, 

easy prey, naive you say? 

she'd just been alone a while, 

sealed her fate at grandma's house, 

amongst her childhood toys, 

the devil got more than his due, 

on bed of fairytales and lies, 

happy ending was re-written, 

red lay dying where reality had bitten, 

heart ripped out and served on a plate, 

little misery on the side well past its sell by date, 

does this story have a moral? 

Red alas is indisposed, 

so little girls please heed my warning, 

beware the wolf in designer clothes..... 

ANN CARRUTH DONOGHUE ©2012 

IRELAND

LIL RED RIDING HOOD 

RENETTA SERCHIO ©2012 

Lil Red Riding Hood Once upon a time 

in a land far away 

deep in the woods 

lived a girl named 

lil red riding hood 

and a big bad wolf 

and the big bad wolf 

would follow her 

every where she went 

and would sing to her 

these words lil red riding hood 

what cha doing in 

these darn woods 

alone 

you are everything 

that a big bad wolf 

could want 

and he would howl 

then follow her 

some more 

watching where 

she would go as 

she was skipping 

away 

carrying a basket 

of goodies to her 

grandmas

house as she went 

deeper into the 

woods 

the big bad wolf 

sang again to 

her 


what cha doing in 

these darn woods 

alone your everything 

a big bad wolf could 

want 

and he would howl 

again by now lil red 

riding hood 

was really getting 

scarred in them woods 

alone 

she finely made it 

to her grandmas 

home 

but the big bad wolf 

beat her there 

first 

and was laying in 

wait in her grandmas 

bed 

for lil red to arrive 

and take her by 

surprise

his big eyes to see 

her approach his 

big sharp teeth 

were ready and waiting for her 

so he could eat 

when she walked 

through the door 

he lunged at her 

caught her to and 

sang to her these 

words again 


you shouldn‘t of 

been in these 

woods alone your 

everything that a 

big bad wolf 

like me could want 

and he howled away 

as he eat her 

moral of the story 

never go anywhere 

alone howl . . . 

RENETTA SERCHIO ©2012 

CALIFORNIA, USA

HANSEL & GRETEL 

ARCHNA PANT ©2012 

Memories - 

dark ... torturous ...morbid 

leave us scarred for life ! 

The searing pain .. 

throws back a blazing trail 

of wounded emotions 

scalding all that is 

soft .... tender inside ! 

And a corroded path - 

of destruction and carnage 

left behind ! 

Devastated - 

we question ... 

life ...faith....relationships ! 

We question.... 

every single premise 

handed over 

so sanctimoniously ! 

We question....and question 

till our minds are fatigued .. 

our throats sore.... 

our tongues parched.... 

Is that all that is to us ? 

A baseness so primeval ..... so primal ? 

Must we always corrupt 

the pure ....pristine ..... the immaculate ? 

Something perfect .. 

as a child's trust on those 

who are his God .... 

his Sky ....his Earth ? 

A faith as virginal .... 

as the first dew drop 

on a bud ? 

the first smile of a newly born ? 

the smell of milk on his rosy lips ?

Oh ! you pathetic souls 

you parents mine - 

you shamed all mankind ! 

the goodness of the human race ! 

Oh ! you deceitful , treacherous souls .... 

you shamed them all.... 

faith...conviction....trust... 

security.... joy ! 

The belief that God gives us parents 

for He cannot be everywhere ... 

Oh ! you shamed them all ! 

You made Gretel and me question... 

If God is ??? 

Two young hopes ... 

Two young faith .... 

brimming with trust and joy ... 

taken to wilderness..... 

forsaken at the feet of destiny ... 

left without remorse ....or thought ! 

No pity ..... No mercy..... No compunction 

moved you ! 

Oh ! the lust of the flesh ! 

the lust of the self ! 

the lust of the coins and bread ! 

So compelling ! 

So supreme !! 

When the hearts break - 

there is no sound 

but all is over forever ! 

The trauma does not allow for the grief .... 

or the pain .... 

It numbs all ! 

The blood freezes in the veins.... 

life halts ! 

Time never heals .... 

the agony just sinks deeper within !

Gretel and I....held on ; 

gathering the pebbles of lost trust ! 

Armed with the discovery that 

common pain...is a bridge across hearts 

such a pain bonds....connects..... 

provokes us to gather strength... 

to fight....survive....to never-say-die ! 

We made it back ... 

Shameless in our return ! 

Needs of survival... 

so demeaning at times. 

We hated them ..... We needed them ! 

Existence - A compulsion of body . 

Every cell filled with 

revulsion ... loathing......distrust ! 

Yet we all embraced.... 

the hypocrisy of the living 

tears so false we shed ! 

We had brought back the gold 

from the witch's cottage 

( a gold that led to 

the happily-ever-after ! ) ; 

A cottage of gingerbread... 

Chocolate....lollipops ! 

And we learnt... 

that all that lures - 

kills....devours ! 

that sweetness ...is oft bitter ! 

That honeyed words - 

captivate .... bewitch ! 

And those who shower love ... 

sweet nothings .... 

are but 

fattening us for the day of the kill !

And 

We learnt that 

Life is anything but a Fairy Tale 

ARCHNA PANT ©2012 

INDIA

MARY HAD A NOKIA 

(A nursery- rhyme based Indian story*.) 

AMPAT KOSHY ©2012 

Mary had a Nokia 

a Nokia 

a Nokia 

Mary had a Nokia 

Its back was silver like a gorillas 

She took it to her school one day 

school one day 

school one day 

She took it to her school one day 

It was against the rules 

It made the children laugh and play 

laugh and play 

laugh and play 

It made the children laugh and play 

Like many angry birds 

Mary's friend got a Lumia 

and someone else an Experia 

Mary kept her Nokia 

It wasn't just a phone 

Mary had a dark secret 

dark secret 

dark secret 

Mary had a dark secret 

She loved her No-ki-a!!! 

When other children spoke of age 

growing old 

and marriage 

Mary only wanted to 

turn into a Nokia

Silver backed like a gorilla 

a gorilla 

a gorilla 

Silver backed like a gorilla 

And love her Nokia!!! 

*Based on how Indian children aren't sometimes allowed mobiles in 

school and by parents. 

AMPAT KOSHY ©2012 

BANGALORE, INDIA

WENDY, MY DARLING 

SATIN-DESEREE M ARNETT ©2012 

Wendy, my darling, my Wendy Darling… 

Run away with me, far away from all of this 

We can live forever in a wonderland of love 

We can say goodbye to all of the woes of the world 

And live our fantasy of happily ever after 

Run away with me Wendy, my darling Wendy 

For I cannot imagine my eternity without you 

Not with all of the pixie dust of all of the fairies… 

Could I believe… without you… 

So run away with me Wendy, my darling Wendy 

Run away with me 

Oh Peter, my darling, my darling Peter… 

I love you but I do not know 

Tempting is your offer… 

I am torn though Peter, between two worlds… 

My fantasy and my reality… 

To live forever in this moment with you 

Is all that I have ever wanted 

Though my world keeps calling me back Peter 

My home, my family, all that I have ever known… 

Keeps calling me back 

Yet all that I desire leads me to you 

Your love is beautiful, unconditional and true 

Your child like essence, your boyish charm 

All that I want is to be in your arms 

But I will miss them Peter… 

There will always be a void in my heart… 

No matter which I choose… 

I fear that I will greatly lose 

Though if I must make that dreaded choice… 

I am sorry Peter, I cannot choose you… 

SATIN-DESEREE M ARNETT ©2012 

CAMANO ISLAND, WASHINGTON, USA

ALMOST ALICE IN WONDERLAND 

JENNY LESSING WIGGINS ©2012 

The Ace of hearts 

has stolen my tarts 

and I went running after. . . 

Got trapped with a hare 

and that is so rare 

I just fell down with laughter. . . 

Now what would you do 

If you had met someone like me 

cajoling with the like of Tweedle- dum or Tweedle-dee? 

You‘d think I had lost my marble 

as the wicked old queen and her Cheshire cat 

entertain me with drunken garble. . . 

Come rescue me Mad Hatter 

as I await you in my suite 

with stockings galore – all your desires to meet. . . 

JENNY LESSING WIGGINS ©2012 

SOUTH AFRICA

LONESOME LITTLE MERMAID 

MITCH CARMICHAEL ©2012 

Oh silver orb above. . . . 

I beseech thee. . . 

Free me from Poseidon‘s glee, 

A trident life is not for me. . . 

I glide through ocean‘s water 

Hiding in the dark shadows of coral 

as they swim by 

in their glorious naked forms…… 

Arms outstretched as they open and close their tentacles below - 

I envied the possession of those 

glorious marvels I‘ve come to know as legs. . . 

Silver orb! 

Hear my tale of woe 

and listen to my wailing cry 

as I sing my haunting lullaby 

to crash their boats to coast 

so they may have the opportunity to use those sticks once more - 

running on the open beach 

instead like me, floundering helplessly once washed to shore…… 

MITCH CARMICHAEL ©2012 

SOUTH AFRICA

LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD 

WILLIAM GAYLORD ©2012 

I hide in the corridors of your mind - 

the innocent one………. 

Waiting for you to find 

the keeper of my heart; 

the warden that searches in vain 

as I gather the fruits of my labour in pain……. 

My guardian haunts the throws of society with me 

as we smell the fear of the unknowing…….. 

With amber eyes we seek 

the blood of those we reap ; 

grinning in silent reverie 

as we see the draining of evil glee……. 

We take not what is pure 

but rather harvest that which is rotten to the core…… 

Little red riding hood, 

caped with blood stained cloak 

is now in tow with her wolf once more…… 

WILLIAM GAYLORD ©2012 

SOUTH AFRICA

BLACK CROW 

AMITABH VIKRAM DWIVEDI ©2012 

A black crow flew high in the air 

He thought it could make him fair 

He flew so high through the white clouds 

And he flew well-nigh as he were so proud 

But soon a sudden rush of rain started 

His flight weakened and his wings parted 

He fumbled around in the sky up high 

And fell down in the dirty mud with a sigh. 

AMITABH VIKRAM DWIVEDI ©2012 

INDIA

RAPUNZEL, RAPUNZEL! 

LET DOWN YOUR HAIR 

REENA PRASAD ©2012 

On the loftiest tower above us all 

Spinning her silk, is a youthful rhyme 

Her cascading hair held up aloft 

by anguished hands running against Time 

As yet another sun merges with the sand 

she weeps into the dusky orange glow 

A wraith, wiping her tears on a wisp of cloud 

Will these red rivers ever cease their flow? 

The ocean has receded into the blue, 

She still waits here looking out for you 

to welcome a warrior, from across the sea 

Her tresses spread, a shadow over the trees 

Come, for the choked fishes no longer swim 

Come, for the birds have lost their wings 

Pastel green trees have turned gnarled and brown, 

Smiling faces are few, far more are the frowns. 

Black bullets glitter, embedded on nursery walls, 

black waters hover over the milky waterfalls 

The season of spring has gone far away, 

Flames now scorch, for love has turned grey. 

Every gate shut, every door locked 

but a small window of hope could never be blocked 

Come' O' Prince! She will throw her plait 

Blackened by grime since that fairy tale, 

mothers used to read aloud 

Little angels used to dream about 

The golden waves that will kiss your core 

But before that prize, still remain some chores.

If you can stop the storms swirling around, 

If you can build a bridge over the troubled ground 

if you can shield the melting glaciers from the flames 

If you can cover the desert with green grass again 

If you can find a sparkle of love in the apathy around 

Then 'O' Earth warrior, 

here comes her gold falling onto your ground 

For she is Earth- The princess of Life 

Kiss her golden ropes and rescue that fairy rhyme, 

the one called Rapunzel, once upon a time. 

REENA PRASAD ©2012 

INDIA

WHATEVER HAPPENED 

ANGEL MEREDITH ©2012 

Whatever happened to The 3 Little Pigs? 

Or Goldilocks or Red? 

Whatever happened to lullabies and singing kids to bed? 

The times have changed and so we grow 

To different likes and loves 

But whatever happened to beddy bye time 

Or snuggling like two doves? 

So no more Ugly Ducklings? 

No more Peter Pans? 

Who‘s gonna write our fairytales about 

Goldie or the Gingerbread Man? 

So I look to the stars above me 

See the Cow Jump over the Moon 

But poor Humpty Dumpty and the Three Blind Mice 

Have no one to write them a tune. 

So who‘s gonna write our fairytales? 

For your kids and my grandkids too? 

Someone must carry the torch or the flame 

Will you write a story or two? 

So put your pen to the paper 

And Bambi and Piper‘s recall 

Think of Snow White‘s adventures 

And Writers heed the call! 

The children are crying themselves to sleep 

Not dozing to Princes or Pigs 

They listen to all we are saying 

Remember Pinocchio‘s fibs? 

Whatever happened to morals? 

That comes at the end of a rhyme 

The lessons they learn 

Prevent heartaches we earn 

So ink up some stories divine! 

ANGEL MEREDITH ©2012 

TEXAS, USA

CINDERELLA 21 ST CENTURY 

POOJA SHARMA RAO ©2012 

I could sit and cry 

about step-mom misfortune 

or heave long sighs 

for step-sisters importune 

but sitting by the cinders 

alone every eve 

I decided with 

Fairy good luck 

My fortune 

I‘ll weave. 

So mice-eaten books 

became horses for my dreams 

and a pumpkin-pie recipe 

my sustenance means 

One day I sold a pie 

In a palace like bakery 

But step-mom misfortune 

Couldn‘t shy from her treachery 

She made me forget 

To carry a mark of reference 

Now how would prince fortune 

Mark his preference 

But luck shined brightly 

As the prince was persistent 

No one but only me 

He was quite insistent!

The slipper shaped pie mould, 

I had hurriedly left back 

The prince knew 

Only I had a pair and 

He followed that track 

From house to house they searched 

And finally found me 

Today with my prince I live 

And we run the Palace bakery! 

POOJA SHARMA RAO ©2012 

INDIA

WINDOWS 2012…A COMPUTER ADDICT 

RUKHAYA MK ©2012 

Where is – 

my world of dreams? 

T‘was a kite, 

flying higher and higher bold 

Beyond the horizon. 

‗Sit controlled ? 

by the mere press of a button. 

Come- my Lil Bo peep 

But alas, you are morphed! 

And Ba,ba the Black sheep 

scanned gray, 

in a printout 

which as time passes, fades away. 

Withhold unreal classics 

no longer told 

Behold bona fide stories 

being sold. 

In a world whose leaders 

are Logic and Right, 

Mary to her little lamb, 

has no copyright. 

Pirated, pilfered Hey Diddle-Diddles, 

we have reached the precipice 

where life‘s no longer a riddle. 

Toddlers have all the answers to win, 

No kidding ‖Who killed Cock Robin?‖ 

Fantasy in fiction figures as signs, 

Only do fairness ads echo these lines: 

―Mirror, Mirror on the Wall, 

Who is the fairest of us all?‖

I wait for the postman, 

but how can I so apprehend 

when I know- 

the joy of waiting‘s ,come to an end. 

I reach letters, before they reach me . 

PageUp, Page Down, Enter 

Graphics Little Boy blue, 

Windows green, toned Riding Hood Red… 

There was an Old Woman, Who Lived in a Shoe 

And now in an old-age home,if not dead. 

Even the colourful pages have vanished! 

Only virtual heathers… 

Nowhere-shall I place, 

my peacock feather? 

RUKHAYA MK ©2012 

INDIA

WHEN THE WOLF AWAITS 

CHRISTOPHER LAWRENCE ©2012 

Tick tock, 

went the old grandfather clock, 

singing mother gathered flowers 

and some broth, 

take this to grandmother, 

red riding sullen reluctant went, 

watched by glowering eyes 

at end of long muzzle, 

bright path darkened into forest, 

red riding mislead wandered 

from the path fearful, 

as wolf emerged hung low 

circling sniffing fur matted damp, 

where are you going it rasped, 

clutching cape to chest 

shivered reply, 

to grandmothers, 

then i will race you there leaping 

over boughs of shrubs, 

fearful she began to hurry, 

wolf had arrived crept through open 

window on silent pads 

frail body weakened grandmother 

devoured in quiet frenzy, 

red riding arrived and called out 

grandmother responded in quavering 

tone come in dearie, 

inside a half lit room straw on floor 

coppery smell unnoticed, 

come closer and hold me, 

what a startle as she lay beside 

broad arms long body 

that nose those teeth with a scream 

wolf set upon her, 

woodsman heard and rushed inside 

wielding axe of forged steel

wolf slit in two, 

beyond the howl and woods mans grasp 

red riding shook in uncontrollable fear, 

a lesson learned 

CHRISTOPHER LAWRENCE ©2012 

ENGLAND, UK

BEAUTY IS THE BEAST 

MICHELE BARON ©2012 

In the castle in my mind, there are many, many rooms 

enough for all to find a space to be; 

in the castles in my mind, enchantments have no gloom, 

everyone can be seen as clearly as each one could wish to see… 

the gardens I tend flourish, and bloom, with roses and with love, 

my kingdom opened wide, to the best within each soul; 

eyes windows made of light, words open doors to airs above, 

and caring deeds foundations, roof and floors—all parts of a blessed 

whole. 

When I walk beyond my castle walls, the world sees me 

as Beast. Wrong hair, wrong clothes, wrong skin, 

wrong thoughts, wrong dreams, wrong manners, wrong speech. 

No matter how I really am, outside is all that they love the least. 

The evil fairy, Social Claws, transformed me to this 

Bête: estranged, bereft, afraid, forlorn, 

no corner safe for me to bide, my social graces shorn; 

no waters clean me in their tide, my dreams of safety torn. 

A aged father came, once, shelter seeking, to this space, while I, 

unseen, 

found hope; he plucked my garden‘s fairest rose; I screamed; he 

despised the need 

to cope. He promised, if I would set him free, of all his guilt and his 

remorse, 

the man would send his son to be my knight, upon a great white 

horse. 

The people laughed, to think that son, so fair and brave, would come 

or even think to rescue me, where, dismayed, and mute and numb, 

I dream of many unfilled rooms, where hope could thrive, and fears 

succumb 

to trust and love, and dreams of filling all that space, with all I, we, 

could become.

I am not a beast, but I have no words, to tell about my plight, 

my listening, counting sounds unheard, my dark and endless nights; 

who sees the beauty of my soul, when all I can do is fight 

just to survive, not even control, the needs, and untold frights? 

In my mind‘s castle are many rooms, wherein, captive, I wait 

and dream doors be opened, or windows found, before it is too late 

and my knight on his white horse turns around 

leaving forever unvalued, still-locked, my gate… 

a label on it nailed, ‗away, all, flee, herein, the different, whom we 

hate…‖ 

oh, would he run, then, even he, who my solitude could abate? 

Sit with me, please, break bread, share salt, share drink, 

share silence, talk, and dreams, 

let us learn love, salve wounds, heal battered souls flayed raw 

in the shards of shattered, muffled screams… 

the wretched, loveless, desperate, outcast, and non-included Beast 

enduring torments of self-recognition, imposed by others, as ―the 

least,‖ 

bewildered that life so reviles one whose face in smiles could be 

wreathed, 

if cruel dislike and hate abate, and accepting love be increased… 

My mind‘s kingdoms have castles with many rooms; 

I dare hope to share them all, 

let us find rescue, from these tombs where hatreds crawl, and 

I will open wide my hope-filled arms, and heart, and soul, 

to cherish the dreams, too, and the Beauty of Love‘s call. 

MICHELE BARON ©2012 

RABAT, MOROCCO

STORYBOOK HEROES 

KELLY ROACH ©2012 

The Pied Piper turned to his flute ,every last rat out of there ,he 

want to boot should they not want to scoot Peter Pan would fly 

overhead ,them ,making sure that all vermin get out of there , 

Pinocchio would also see to they disappear ,, Humpty Dumpty 

would join in the ousting party , The three little pigs ,would have 

that big bad wolf blow them away , Little miss Muffet ,wanted to 

lead them off by her whey , Goldilocks the three bears would also 

help keep them at bay ,. Hansel and Gretel and the Gingerbread man 

,would lure them by smell of candy , ,,Little Red riding hood ,in on it 

also tempt them by food , Jack and Jill would lead them falling into 

the well , ,Puss n boots ,a cat would go to town ,flushing them out of 

spots , The three blind mice ,couldn't be a part of this game ,they 

thought wasn't nice ., Old King cole , would devise a trap of money 

over a hole , ,,Little Bo peep , would hope the rodents 

would count her sheep ,and just go off to sleep , ,,The Pied 

Piper had many a admirer , for he alone wanted be the rat ridder ,but 

everyone wanted to be in the act there .,to a normal person this be 

a nightmare ,a surreal thing that outnumber , but the Piper ending 

up settling that score , .returning everything to what is was before 

. The Piper now come to learn that in case of failure ,his friends 

would have his back ,showing care , to return the favour ,Pied 

would throw his pals a appreciation affair . the storybook party of 

the year , ,,It would include other guests ,Little boy blue , Tom 

thumb , Mary Mary Contrary , who would be coming for the 

ceremony , Tonight there be no cow jumping over the moon or dish 

with the spoon running away , ,,instead they come one come all 

joining also the frolic and festivity ,,, Peter Pumpkin eater and 

Georgie Porgie appear ,,, Snow White ,Cinderella , Rapunzel 

,Rumplestilskin ,Sleeping Beauty ,with their princes be all in 

attendance ,, good present company ,,Jack spratt and Jack be 

nimble , came without any trouble , So there was the line up ,all to 

pay respect to the fellow with the pipe. 

KELLY ROACH ©2012 

CORNWALL, ONTARIO, CANADA

THE RHYME OF HUMPTY AND DUMPTY 

SAYANTAN GUPTA ©2012 

Humpty met Dumpty out there on the wall. 

Had whale of a time from summer till fall. 

He had his pals and she had her own, 

Yet when we look close, we find them alone. 

But after they met, things went their own way, 

Each knew that the other had come there to stay. 

He played his guitar and she sang her song – 

A lovely melody resonating along. 

The world was so happy and happy were they. 

Worry and sadness went far, far away. 

She hummed and she laughed as he strummed a chord, 

Love blossomed in friendship, in lovely accord. 

But both became puzzled at tug of heart-strings, 

They weren‘t at all ready for amorous flings. 

What they denied were feelings sublime, 

As flooding emotions surged higher with time. 

Love begets love, as pain begets pain. 

Poor Humpty and Dumpty were grumpy again 

Then what had transpired, oh, no one can tell. 

We know just this much, that poor Humpty fell. 

Dumpty, sad Dumpty, had left Humpty‘s wall. 

So no one was there to check Humpty‘s fall 

In rushed the king‘s horses, in rushed the king‘s men, 

They found that poor Humpty was writhing in pain. 

They put him together with plaster and glue. 

But for the heart they made him all new. 

―Where‘s Dumpty?‖ asked all, as they looked around. 

But poor Dumpty, sad Dumpty, was not to be found. 

All the king‘s horse and all the king‘s men. 

Did never see Dumpty there ever again 

SAYANTAN GUPTA ©2012 

INDIA

THE FAMOUS BOY OF NEVERLAND 

LAURA C LaVEGLIA ©2012 

He walks through metropolitan town 

Lost boys surgically attached to hip 

They wander aimlessly looking for lost and found 

A leaders mind is gone 

Searching through rubble, a bottle of gossamer dust 

What an interesting piece of glass? 

He donned it proudly as a prostitute‘s bobbles 

Compelling a whiff sends boy soaring through air 

Catch me if you can, heard audibly in the wind 

Boy‘s don't cry, will find my mind tomorrow! 

Scrolled iron window belonging to aristocratic family 

Peeking as he flew; a young ladies bedroom window 

She was startled when his decision was made 

Standing there in the nude, gave her quite a fright! 

A scream that could curdle milk 

That evening, plans were ruined 

The boy and his gang never seeing a place far, far away 

Well in a sense the leader accomplished that 

Authorities wrap him in a pretty white coat 

Tilting his top hat as he said adieu! 

They did not catch on that he could still fly 

Another window was found, but not as pretty: just ugly steel 

Brusquely landing on a mattress fit for a king 

Eyes roll up like tattered shade‘s 

He caught a fit that‘s the conclusion 

Give him pretty pills to eat at noon 

He found his mind while dining 

Do you know who I am!

Lying there resembling a disheveled rag 

I am the great Peter Pan and you are my Lost Boys 

Forcefully staying gave him the chills 

Peter begged for another chance 

Some say his chance was granted 

Being found dead in the morning giving solace to his weary mind 

LAURA C LaVEGLIA ©2012 

BAY SHORE, NEW YORK, USA

RAPUNZEL, AFTER 

LISA ZIMMERMAN ©2012 

Rapunzel cut her abundant hair short 

after the divorce, even sported a Mohawk 

when she went to college. 

The handsome prince, scum that he was, 

badmouthed her for months to all his bros. 

But after 30 days in rehab he regretted all of it: 

the loss of their savings in the dot-com market, 

the drinking, the DUIs, the house sliding away 

in the mud of bankruptcy, his grimy affairs 

with cocktail waitresses. 

Imagine his surprise to spot her, years later, 

at the 4th of July carnival. She was stunning— 

long legs, short jean skirt, her hair in a thick braid to her waist, 

and holding the hand of a little boy. 

He managed to find courage to say hello to her 

when he stood behind them in line for a corn dog. 

She asked how he was, introduced her son whose name 

floated out of his mind instantly, like a puff of hope. 

He felt awkward in his middle age, hair receding, 

trousers snug in all the wrong ways. 

He managed to ask her if she had won the sparkling 

snow globe she was holding, noting how inside its bubble 

of glass was a tiny gray castle and she said yes 

and that was all. He knew then and forever 

that he could not undo what was done, could not 

call up the words he felt ticking inside the broken clock of his 

regret. 

He watched them walk away, the dark rope of her hair, the curve 

of her shoulders, the crowd swallowing her in a distance 

he could never climb. 

LISA ZIMMERMAN ©2012 

FORT COLLINS, USA

NURSERY REWIND 

SHYAM ©2012 

Hickory Dickory Dock! 

The mouse refused 

To go up the clock! 

He scampered down instead 

But London Bridge 

Was already falling down 

Humpty Dumpty got so pissed 

That he couldn‘t kiss 

Snow white on the cheek 

And the damn elves just clapped! 

When he had his great fall! 

Jack & Jill didn‘t care a fig 

If Little Bo Peep 

Just wouldn‘t turn 

A new leaf! 

Come back Peter, Come back Paul! 

Now who is the black sheep? 

Damn! Who moved my cheese? 

Stop blaming Alice! 

Stop quacking at the moon! 

Enough of loony tunes! 

SHYAM ©2012 

INDIA

FAIRY TALES 

BOB STRUM ©2012 

They may be only fairy tales 

But what they have to say 

Applies to life as it prevails 

Right to this very day. 

The story of Red Riding Håood 

Is one which should be understood. 

There was a kindly messenger 

Supplying lots of food. 

A predator had noticed her 

And thought he would intrude. 

Get rid of those with real need 

And aim to satisfy his greed. 

That is the way with foreign aid. 

The poor will stay that way. 

After the predators are paid, 

The poor get none that day. 

The fairy tale might turn out well, 

The worldwide poor can to to hell. 

BOB STRUM ©2012 

COFFS HARBOUR, AUSTRALIA

BEAUTY AND THE BEAST 

SANTA VETTURI ©2012 

―Once upon a time…‖ 

every tale begins this manner 

but the time is then and now 

and their lessons are eternal 

That‘s enough you try to read 

beyond the fabulous images 

and you can discover values 

adapting to the today‘s age 

If you don‘t believe it‘s true 

I can prove it by my words 

I‘ll tell you a gripping story 

written many years ago 

A fine girl whose name was Belle 

by her father left for market 

asked no jewel or rich dress 

only a rose specially picked 

But the merchant coming back 

got lost in a howling gale 

so repaired in a dazzling castle 

where nobody just appeared 

and next morning before going 

in the garden picked a rose 

remembering the promise he did 

to his unpretentious daughter 

Suddenly an hideous Beast 

the terrifying castle‘s owner 

imprisoned and threatened with death 

accusing him of being ungrateful

When Belle knew, she generously 

offered herself instead of father 

and discovered a pleasant reality 

living in that enchanted prison 

Her captor transformed in monster 

by the magic of an evil witch 

gained back his figure of prince 

loving and winning Belle‘s love indeed 

So the story of Beauty and the Beast 

teaches two everlasting truths 

just how powerful love is 

over differences and hardships 

and convenient is for you 

to see behind an ugly appearance 

for discovering how good can be 

the heart everyone inside treasures 

SANTA VETTURI ©2012 

BARI, ITALY

SLEEPING BEAUTY & HER ROYAL KNIGHT 

ELVIRA LOBO ©2012 

In the wealthy home of a family of two, all the luxury wished was 

made true, 

The only grief that both were struck upon, is a baby who they could 

both dote upon, 

Soon prayers were answered and blessed with a lovely baby, the 

celebrations for which went on like crazy. 

The girl was beautiful since she was born, but the loneliness 

pricked her like thorns. 

Coz of her prideful parents who didn‘t want shun their high 

reputation. 

Her royal stature didn‘t let her mingle with friends, as she was 

cursed by the family customs she couldn‘t defend. 

In royal parties while meeting the guests, she lamely wished 

everyone in jest. 

Once, she met a handsome guy, standing in corner of the aisle, 

whom she said a sweet hello, her beauty captivated this young 

fellow. 

But this first meeting came to an abrupt end when the guards 

intervened and warned them not to offend. 

Love at first sight she had felt, she tried to reason with her parents 

but they wouldn‘t melt. 

They said ―love is not meant for u, you will be married to whom we 

will choose‖. 

She had already been struck by the spindle of love; she had faith in 

the doings of the Above. 

Days went by, years passed on, but her love for her prince charming 

didn‘t drop down. 

Her sorrow made her unwell and weak, her painful condition led her 

to a long sleep. 

She wouldn‘t react or move, stayed still for days together, her 

health didn‘t improve. 

Time came to a halt for her parents who realized where they had 

trailed, they had bought up their daughter in a walls of a closed 

cage.

The sleeping beauty lay there amongst lovely flowers, the silent 

castle of grief had overcome the hours. 

Then, one day , a curious guest came to see her, it was the same 

guy who she had met, her lover. 

He kissed her and gave her his medicine of love, and slowly the 

beauty responded and got up, don't ask how. 

This moment was indeed very special , coz it was the victory of love 

over the evil. 

Surely u have guessed right , the Sleeping beauty was married to 

her Royal Knight . 

This is the tale of love and relations unfurled, lets make Love 

supreme and rule our lovely world. 

ELVIRA LOBO ©2012 

INDIA

FOREDOOMED 

KATICA VRHOVAC KRAKAN ©2012 

Don't dream of me 

not in your sleep-dreams 

not in your day-dreams 

as if you do 

you will be restless 

forever seized 

by delusions endless. 

Don't dream of me 

not in your sleep-dreams 

not in your day-dreams 

as if you do 

you might forget 

that nothing is 

as it seams. 

Don't dream, 

don't ever dream of me 

or my homeland of Never-land 

as if you do, your nights 

will be filled with madness 

and your days full of darkness. 

KATICA VRHOVAC KRAKAN ©2012 

VANCOUVER, CANADA

HUMPTY DUMPTY 

MADHUMITA GHOSH ©2012 

Dumped soon after birth 

for having the ugliest hump 

he had none to care for, 

so he roamed the streets alone 

as he walked the walk 

talking the talk 

and swelled with words more and more, 

till pride had the better of him 

and he marched to the palace to greet the king, 

scheming to be minister prime, 

but the gate was too small 

for his girth so wide,so he dangled his feet 

while he sat on the wall, 

waiting for the king to arrive. 

The king's horses neighed, 

the trumpets sounded 

as the king emerged from the palace, 

a breeze blew and the walls echoed, 

he shook and swayed, 

and was soon, grounded. 

Empty inside 

where only words collide 

Humpty Dumpty there lies, 

shattered into shards 

outside the palace 

on the cobbled stone wayside. 

All the king's horses 

and all the king's men 

came rushing to his help, 

with bandage and stents 

with glue and cement, 

but none could make him 

a solid whole again. 

MADHUMITA GHOSH ©2012 

CALCUTTA, INDIA

I THOUGHT I SAW A PUTTIE TAT 

BRANDON HOGAN ©2012 

self control 

as I grip my soul 

toss a quarter toward the toll 

check under the bridge for the troll 

ask him if he would like to roll 

if he tires of hanging out 

if he ever just at the top of his lungs lets out a shout 

perhaps he says sure 

me and this troll open the door 

step into a new place to explore 

kicking back 

we see Jill and Jack 

tripping down a hill 

bucket empty and cracked impossible to refill 

Jill starts crying 

Jack starts lying 

tells her it's ok 

Jill turns back 

says no it's not 

see cause Jills done turned gay 

she is thinking of Daisy Mae 

that's when the troll turns to me to say 

no sooner then that I drive away 

no homo 

tell him he's on his own bro 

strictly chickly 

the troll gets Jack and changes history 

his story 

I drive off 

it's the next chapter 

phone's buzzing a text disaster 

see who it be and start driving faster 

phone starts ringing 

ring tone singing 

that part inside the brain starts stinging 

damn it to hell

I answer the bell 

to immediate screams and I hang up 

oh well 

why the bitch call to yell 

dying to be a part of the story I tell 

welllllll 

she's nothing more then a foot note 

a mispelled sentence 

good line but a bad quote 

think I would rather swim then get on that boat 

and 

that for her 

is all she wrote 

back to the journey 

the excellent adventure 

I pass by all the kings horses 

a few of his men 

sadly I smell eggs cooking 

so what of Humpty 

as I limp to the side 

like my legs was broken 

a freaking pipe dream 

but I ain't smoking 

then I see the little spider 

with nobody next it 

I pull up a chair and sit for a bit 

no not for a bite 

from the eight legged outsect 

insect 

whatever the dialect 

just trying to reconnect 

gather some intellect 

perhaps maybe redirect 

and 

sadly I don't speak spider 

so I bug off 

then loud and clear 

I hear 

fuck off 

little Ms. Muffett

and 

that Riding Hood dame 

hiding behind the bushes 

playing a game 

now I'm confused 

even at a loss for words 

telling me to fuck off 

I expose the birds 

sit and spin 

yeah spin till you pop 

out jumps the Wolf 

all big and bad 

huffin and puffin 

got asthma bad 

he asks for a smoke 

sorry I ain't got none 

then I see the three little pigs drive by 

Elmer riding shotgun 

holy cow 

holy shit 

how and the hell 

did things end up like this 

and 

then I see her 

her who I'm after 

with those pretty blue eyes 

sweats and a hoodie 

next thing I know I'm Tweety 

and 

I think I saw a puttie 

I did 

I did 

tricks are for kids 

this her 

this she 

this woman I see 

does all of this word play

for me 

brings out 

puts in 

more then I can take 

and 

I realize 

this is a dream 

but 

it ain't fake....... 

BRANDON HOGAN ©2012 

IDAHO, USA

THE END

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