Tag Archives: fractured fairy tales

Losing the Shoes 

They finally objected to being objectified  and so they flung them far and wide and ran for a land far, far away –  a Wood where they could laugh and dance and play without bunions and ballsand midnight calls and step-mothers and -sisters and  overbearing fathers … Continue reading

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The Sacred Whims of Wildling Wood 

The forest floor is strewn with high-heeled shoes, for we rebel princesses have shucked our crowns and chucked our corsets and ditched  the bibbidi-bobbidi(boo)ballin favor of gentler things:  mirror ponds (fairest of them all),fiery dragon dances and fairy wings.  :: Linda Lee’s got a fun Quadrille challenge for us … Continue reading

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So Much for Their Happy Endings 

They came here (to Wildling Wood, in case you’ve only just joined us) to be alone, free from thrones and overbearing stepmothers and glass slippers and princes still thinking slaying the dragon is the right way to go.  Hey, even the fairy godmother grows tiresome in the end.  What … Continue reading

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Princess Aurora of the Wilding Wood 

The nap was no goodand the kiss was worse (hello, consent?) but now she’s fully escaped the curse and steeped herself  in mud-luscious bliss.  Sleeping’s for the faint of heart, and hers has been jumpstarted by the howl of moon and the flow of stream.  Beauty’s in the … Continue reading

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Sigh-cology 101

Once upon a Wildling Wood,a princess traded her throne for a place to call home.  :: :: In November, we poem.

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Wildling Wood 

The princesses are at it again with their grins and their gin and their tutu spin.  They’ve all been given second chances and seconds of cake.  They’ve long shed their corsets and their crowns and their pumps and their frowns and the promises of being “saved” and decided to gambol with … Continue reading

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Wayward Thrones and Pocket Stories 

Weary of glass (ceilings, slippers, houses) ,we turn ourselves to stone instead, our bare feet mud-luscious in their riverbeds.  We pebble stories, toss them in.  The moon’s a diamond we are tired of rolling uphill,so we cut her into slices and shine.  It’s Quadrille Monday at dVerse, and I’m hosting. … Continue reading

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Imagine the Frog’s Dismay

at never being kissedat being dissed at having missed out on kingdom things.  or perhaps he hops                   (happily) wild in the woodssheds all those shouldsand at nightfall, he sings.  :: It’s Wednesday. We poem.

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All Those Wayward Ever Afters

There is laughter when they think of all they were supposed to be, all corseted and silver-spoon fed with feet crammed into ridiculous shoes.  Here, even the steeds are unshod and trail-trod, mudlucious in their gorgeous freedom. This forest is flush with both silence and song.  Here, they choose.  … Continue reading

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Leaving Their Shoes Behind

  There’s a pile of pumps at the peaceful passage leading to Wildling Wood.  They’ve kicked (off) up their heels and wielded their swords and let all that hair (golden and otherwise)down and traded their pointy crowns for flowers.  Now, they spend hours bare-foot loose and fancy -free, having also … Continue reading

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