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Tag Archives: wildlings
They’d rather be pirates than princesses; the games just look more fun. They’ll don some swords, learn some salty words and parley silk for sun. They’d rather be pirates than princesses, so they strike out for sea with flags un-furled, these savvy, wily wildling … Continue reading
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
We wander. We whim. We swim in streams and bathe in moon. We swoon over sunrise, or we sometimes we sleep in. We’ve cast our shoes to chasms and collapse in fits and spasm of laughter. We’ve decided happy (ever after) means home among the … Continue reading
For the record, the wildlings (these wayward rebel-rogue princesses) are not ladies in waiting. They are not sitting about biding their time until their princes come or their fathers give permission or their fairy godmothers wave the wand. They’re quite happy here, fond of sun-kissed freckles and filthy feet. They’re … Continue reading
Wild. See? See how the sun edges up again and the dandelions claim sidewalk cracks as stages. See the pages of the sky, churning clouds of dragon puff, enough to assure us everything is wild. And well. Moon casts her spell at dusk, and we … Continue reading
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
They drink from stream and lake and oak-leaf dewand brew their tea from waterfall fountain. There’s a banquet of snacksand a welcome knack for napping and every hour’s happy now because their feet are bare and there’s no one to stare and the chores are shared and nobody’s … Continue reading
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
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
Somebody said good -bye, and there will be no more poems. But these sassy chicas have bared their feet and souls and are ready to throw a moon rave again. Anybody got a magic (wand) pen? ::May Day! May Day! No prompt. All play.