Tag Archives: fixing the endings

Happily, Ever 

They are still unshod, by god-mother. (These wayward Wildling rebel-rogue princesses.)  Barefoot loose and fancy only in their own daisy-chained glee. Nobody’s  waiting to be saved. No-body’s even shaved in weeks and weeks. It’s  all grown wild, like weedsand flowers, ivy. Stars. Some days, they … Continue reading


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That Time the Supervillains Stopped by Wilding Wood 

So, the Wildlings (those wayward rebel-rogue princesses) thought they’d thought of everything – with tricks and traps and surly dragons to guard against nosey princes and bully kings – until the Supervillain Infiltration of 2022.  Those crafty maleficent heels bribed the dragons with shiny things and sang … Continue reading

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Happily Ever 

After the rain (before the moon), they hum their free-dom tunes to a storied sky.  The world whirls by with a royal flair, but they’rejust happy to behere with the trees.   ::In November, we poem.

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Breaking Point 

They’ve gone wild(these wayward princesses),bored of bibbidi-bobbidi boo,tired of titles and weary of woo.  They’ve decided to break it all down lose the shoes and crack their crowns into a mosaic of glitterglee.  See? The world shines better broken. Spoken. Free. ::It’s Quadrille Monday over at dVerse … Continue reading

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Next to the Oldest Oak Tree 

That’s where they gather the most, the mossand the moments that remind them they’re free.  There are three small pines where they’ve cast their shoes. Here they pause to remember their past.  And then there’s the moon. Eyes and swords skyward,they whisper thank you to stars, and know … Continue reading

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Well at the End of the Wood 

The water’s clean and cold and good, pulled straight up from a lower spring.  They sing as they go, not the high princess ah-ah-ah of their former selves, but a low high-ho of work well done and freedom won and stories spun,  laced in laughter and woven-whim’d … Continue reading

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{Répondez s’il vous play}

They don’t want to wear shoes or dress up or drink from silver cups or dance with the king’s dumb son.  And so they run.  And then they RSVP to treesand breeze and mudluscious gleeand all the wheeeee they can stand.  ::Catching up a little, backwards and in … Continue reading

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Kissing Frogs  They do it all the time nowat the stream, in the marsh, in their own mudluscious homesbecause now they know (whew.) no (“someday”) prince will comeand the frogs love it and it’s all just in good fun.  ::In November, we poem. And … Continue reading

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Every Saturday night, the girls once again don the crowns, but looped round (and round and round)  their arms as hula hoopsspun in a whirl of rubysapphirediamondgold.  War stories are told and fairytales spun, too, and the rescued dragons know just what to do with the cast-off (ridiculous) high -heeled shoes (they’re … Continue reading

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Sometimes it’s all they wear, these wayward princesses basking in the sun; not the Risky Business “future’s so bright” kind, but the way the tree slants just right kind, for leafy shadow tattoos.  They choose the warmest part of day and make their me-andered way to forest floor … Continue reading

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