There once was a cook in the land of Kright, who baked away with all his might, trying to create the perfect delight. Sugar, dough, and a gumdrop too, a bit of peppermint to add some woohoo. Cut the shape so carefully he did, then into the oven the pan he slid. At last it came, his masterpiece, by a bit of magic, a sweet treat unleashed. The cook jumped with glee as he looked at the pan, as on it stood a little gingerbread man. It laughed and walked and danced around, the cook's jaw nearly dropped all the way to the ground. Off the pan it jumped down onto the floor and began to run to the kitchen door, the cook jumped up and tried to catch him but it hopped out the window and was gone with a whim. A last little laugh of happiness ran out as it ran off into the night with a sugary spout. The cook looked with sadness as he held the pan, but cracked a small smile for the gingerbread man.
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The Sound of Silence
The Wright walked always looking forward, he never talked as there was nobody around, he heard Silence speak to him, oh what a sound. It said “Do you know where you are going? The path is not even showing”. He spoke to Silence and said “I know my path though it is not clear, I will continue to walk though only Silence will I hear. He thought it odd that there was no breeze, no dust in the air to make him wheeze, the land seemed dead, with no one around, he heard Silence speak to him, oh what a sound “It’s been quite a long time yet the suns not up, how long will it be before you just give up?” The Wright said to Silence “I must walk though we continue to talk, I will not be swayed, on this path shall I stay.” Silence laughed and muttered to him, but you cannot see ahead, your path looks quite grim, you have only me, not a she or a him.” The Wright looked up and smiled to himself, he hung his coat on his shoulder as if on a shelf, “Why the smile? Why so glee? You think this smile will set you free?” “I am already free” he said to Silence, “for the path that I take is up to me” he pointed up to the sky to show Silence what he sees, as the clouds began to part, part like a sea, and came down a giant brush, painting with glee. It painted the road, the path he was on, it said “Over here! Follow me come on!” The Wright followed and was lead to a place, a place of sounds and a place of sights, a place where nothing could give him fright, he reached this place through strength and try, though Silence himself began to cry, he missed the man, someone to hear him, for poor old Silence, things looked quite grim. In a place of noise and a place of sound, The Wright grew sad for there was but one not around. He missed the sound, a sound he couldn’t explain, a sound that let him think though it was quite a pain, he knew it now though people around, he missed the sound, the sweet sound of Silence.
By Austin Williams7 years ago in Poets
My New Book is Finally Here
My poetry collection Beautiful and Brutal Things is done. It's actually done and finally published over 270 pages. Over a year of my life went into this book. More than a year, really. Long days at my computer, sometimes seven days a week because I couldn't stop even when I probably should have. Then two months of editing that felt harder than the writing itself. But it's finished, and I'm still standing, and the book is real.
By Tim Carmichael2 days ago in BookClub
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