Paper airplanes predate real planes, which is why some people still call them paper darts.
Friday, 24 February 2017
Friday, 17 February 2017
The Exiled Queen
My warmest regards
For your beautiful letter.
For your beautiful letter.
Your wonderful welcome
Could not have been better.
I was sitting alone
When it flew past the shutter,
Could not have been better.
I was sitting alone
When it flew past the shutter,
And a breeze brought it down by my feet
With a flutter.
With a flutter.
The blue of your ink
Will remind me of home
I'll take it out often,
As I read it alone
And hold it with care,
To my chest with both hands,
Will remind me of home
I'll take it out often,
As I read it alone
And hold it with care,
To my chest with both hands,
And think fondly of you,
And these windy young lands.
And these windy young lands.
Your beautiful bird
Brought a smile through my tears,
Brought a smile through my tears,
And banished my gloom,
My sorrows and fears.
My sorrows and fears.
Just how you have made this,
So delicate and wise,
So delicate and wise,
With just paper and skill,
A letter that flies!
A letter that flies!
Sunday, 12 February 2017
Sir Barry
He cuts a fine figure,
In his burgundy gown.
A vender of vigour.
A young frog about town.
A high social climber,
despite his wet skin,
but the servants and houseboys,
still won’t let him in.
For the folk of blue blood,
and the well-heeled young witches,
disdain folk of the mud,
the denizens of the ditches.
And so every night
Once the wine is all drunk,
he'll return to his home,
in a hollowed out trunk.
Labels:
fantasy,
frog,
illustration,
poem,
poetry,
poetry illustration,
watercolor,
watercolour,
witch,
witches
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