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I also write poetry, which is available here. A brief taste follows:

Her Nightmare

Savage, his fangs,
Moist, his lips.
Sallow, his frame,
Bony, his hips.

Black, his suit,
The black of night.
A swallowing gloom,
No end in sight.

He lurched with a creak,
The floorboards protest.
He held out a claw,
Asked, will you confess?

For Your sins I can see,
Your every dark thought,
Trapped inside that frail head,
Just the snack that I sought.

And his serpentine tongue,
On his lips did it play.
For he tasted the fear,
As she shouted go away!

But mere words would not banish,
This spectre, this shroud.
He fed on her fright,
He cackled aloud.

Dear, dear, I think its time,
That I took my sweet treat.
Now be a good lass,
And just take a seat.

It will not take much time,
You’ll be free before long.
No more fear, no more pain,
No more joy, no more songs.

Not a tear will fall down,
Those pale bloodless cheeks.
You will be reborn,
Now come what’s that? Eek!

For a small light-grey mouse,
Had sprung from its home,
A hole in the wall,
To wander and roam.

And with a shriek like a blade,
Dragged across a sharp rock,
He fled the dark house,
Before a tick of the clock,

Struck midnight and rang,
Drowned out a small cry.
The shaking, quaking girl,
Who thought she would die.

But now that she had,
A means to defend,
She calmed herself down,
And picked up her friend .

As she patted the lump,
His fur warm and nice.
She knew that her nightmare,
Was frightened of mice.


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