Tuesday, February 22, 2011


Don't know what inspired this poem. Maybe the weird dream I had last night...

Rose (February 22, 2011)

Long, dark corridors
Silent, stifled night
Tall, arched ceilings
Dimmed chandelier light

Large oak doors,
Lining every wall
Not a single creak,
From a door in the hall

Dark, shadowed room,
Large beyond compare
Roof’s too high to see,
It must be somewhere in the air

Four-poster bed,
Only thing in the room
On tall carved posts,
Flower buds that never bloom

Tall, narrow windows,
Made to look out, not to open
Here stands Rose,
Always waiting, always hoping

One day soon the Prince will come
The rooms will brighten, here dawns the sun
No longer in her prison hide,
To Rose locked doors will be flung wide

Long, dark corridors,
Dark, shadowed room
Here stands Rose,
In the light of the moon

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

Dead Beaver

I recently bought the hat I am pictured wearing. I bought it 80% off (totaling to $6). Very excited I showed my new possession (that I got ON SALE!) to my friend who promptly informed me that it looked like a dead beaver. Everyone so far has agreed that it does so that hat has been nick-named, "The Dead Beaver" (it's not even real fur people...lol)
Here, in honor of my hat, is a new poem.

Dead Beaver - February 15, 2011

Fuzzy and warm
Brown and soft
Flying bobbles
Dead Beaver

Fake fur
Six dollars
On sale
Dead beaver

Arctic toque
Epic hat
Softest headgear
Dead Beaver

Bobble broke
Now is fixed
Never to break off
Dead Beaver

Favorite thing
Will wear forever
Never to loose
Dead Beaver

Happy Flag Day Canadian people!

PS - Don't you think lines of miniature beavers should border the Canadian flag...? That would be VERY Canadian...
PPS - Yes, in the picture I have an upsidedown, temporary, Canadian red maple leaf tattoo on each wrist.

Wednesday, February 2, 2011


If you don't know already, I'm a big fan of books and have a lot of them, 176 in fact.

176 (written January 18, 2011)

One, seven, six
One, seventy-six
One hundred and seventy-six
Books on my shelf

One, seven, six
Book are my fix
When all by myself
I turn to books on my shelf
One, seven, six

One, seventy-six
My books do not mix
With two candles on the ledge
Staying far from the edge
One, seventy-six

One hundred and seventy-six
Books of friends or schools or tricks
From my mum and her mum's hoard
With these books I'll never be bored
One hundred and seventy-six