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About Literature / Hobbyist Sheila PalmerFemale/United Kingdom Recent Activity
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Ugliness appeared before her,
empty but its gaze implored her.
What was this misshaped monstrous thing
that wore fine clothes fit for a king?
Conjured from an ancient spell?
No way that she could surely tell.
This thing professed that it was good
yet crows would eat it, if they could,
that dragons would breathe fire upon
or simply flee or turn to stone.
And all but she would turn away
to see this face in light of day.

Did it crawl once on the ground?
Did it make a braying sound?
Did it come from sullied earth?
Should it have been drowned at birth?
Was it a joke, a curse, a prank?
a hunch of bones whose spine was lank?
Did it come from some locked room
hidden always in the gloom?
fed by those with eyes averted
from the floor with feces dirtied,
from its eyes, sunken and red,
from depth of sorrow, yet tears unshed
from moaning, groaning from its soul,
from facial features of a troll,
from all the kindness lingering
in the heart of something withering?

And yet somehow ‘it’ became free
and found his place so rightfully
within a palace left to him,
by royal blood, his royal kin.
He swathed himself in silks so fine,
a crown upon his head did shine,
his bearing noble, his head held high
declaring love – he couldn’t lie.

Beauty looked into his face
and sudden did her heartbeat race,
his eyes were looking into her;
she reached out and she stroked his fur.
He took her hand and placed a ring,
as bluebirds circled on the wing,
as flowers bloomed in castle grounds
and air was filled with heavenly sounds –
an Angel Song of Joyous Rhyme
that blessed them both for all of time...
Elizabeth watched as the moon cast the herb garden in hoary splendor. She stood betwixt the rows of silvered leaves and saw roots rising as if the herbs were eager to be picked. Elizabeth’s hands were cold. Her arthritic fingers teased roots from their earthy beds, gently making sure all parts of the plants were intact – they were layered into a well-used basket made of willow, its weave loosened by age and use.

There had been many herb gardens throughout Elizabeth’s life in many different places. She loved to grow things. She was an Earth Mother and fruitfulness followed her in many shapes and forms. Each day brought forth more progeny and communication with a variety of things. She spoke to her ants, her bees and to her apples. Apples were her favorite fruit.

Elizabeth continued to pick, as ghosts from her past watched her. A frost dusted her hair, the plants and the rich, soft earth – that yielded to her light tread.

Early winter was not the ideal time to gather herbs but the residue of Autumn still in the air had reminded her of time constraints, as it always did – and as beautiful as that season was in it’s death throes, she almost cursed it. Almost...

Throughout that same night Elizabeth stirred and chanted – back in her tiny kitchen with a small stove burning far more oil than it should have done – whilst the black pot requisite of such spells frothed a gelatinous liquid that necklaced its rim in golden beads. She looked into the pot close to completion of the spell and saw that it was bottomless and as infinite as the night sky, which then slid away easily, taking the dominant moon.

Elizabeth bottled the potion she had just created and went to bed. The spell had taken much of her energy and she was very tired indeed. When she woke up, it was summer.

What had happened to spring? No matter. She wandered outside into her garden and saw abundant apples on the trees. Other fruit dripped down from small bushes at the sides of the garden in an almost obscene display of fecundity. What to make with all of this? Jam with the berries perhaps and apple pies. Yes, particularly apple pies. James her five-year-old grandson loved them. He would be visiting soon with his parents. She went close to a tree and tried to pick some of the apples but they swung away from her. She tried again and managed to touch them lightly but her skin flaked from her fingers and blew in the summer breeze. She was crumbling. It was only then that she remembered the potion.

Another summer came. Why was it always summer? James came to Elizabeth’s garden and picked all the apples. He went into the kitchen after that and found the potion sitting on the table and wondered why he hadn’t noticed it before. The usual dust had settled on the furniture and items since his last visit, but the bottle looked sparkling new and free from the merest speck. He laughed when he saw the label, it said ‘Drink-me!’ At the age of forty, James was long past Alice-in-Wonderland fantasies but something about the bottle was compelling. He drank it, left the house after locking up and Elizabeth watched him.

Soon her house would be sold. It had been left far too long, lingering in the comfort of memories. It was old fashioned, an artifact almost, that existed in the time warp she herself was in. James’ parents had moved into her house but had died a few years ago. They had moved on again to a very different place. Elizabeth knew that she would move on too...when she was ready. James might well visit again and it was a joy to see him, yet sad knowing that no matter how often he visited he would never see her.

She had wanted to give James two presents before she died, a magical potion and an apple pie. Well the apple pie didn’t get baked, but James would return to his own home and bake his own apple pies. The magical potion would enable James to make those apple pies very special indeed but as to how special only time would tell. Meanwhile only herself and the apple trees knew the secret.
In the Morningworld of Forest, there’s scurrying and much unrest
foxes run, their tails a-quiver, snails and slugs race all-a-slither
through the grass and fairy rings, through the slime and squishy things,
over tree roots, squashing fungi, snorting, snuffling. My oh my!
Followed by all mice and rats, squirrels, owls and some stray cats
running, leaping, there’s no sleeping. Hear the squeaks of wakened bats.

Hurry hurry, tis soon time when Wizards cast their spells in rhyme
to rise up squirtling, squorting things, that run with legs on hairy springs
and squib down fairies toadstool homes, chewing on old goblins bones,
painting black upon the trees, cracking nuts between their knees
regurgitating greenish stuff, a liquid moss that gathers fluff,
groaning, moaning, gibbering – plant-life before them withering.

These blackened souls, they’ll claim the night, for tis their time and awful right
when moon on wane hangs down real low, for power of the dark will grow
to magnify these chasing things and give them horns and spiky wings
and massive mouths that shut real tight: ‘caverns’ sealed to block the light.
Poor creatures in the Morningforest, no wonder there was much unrest.
Where did they go? Will demons follow, to find them hiding in some hollow?

Oh how the blackness falls real quick, the waning moon is feeling sick.
The clouds above lie on the trees, darkening with malefic ease,
Hear the cries of frightened birds, hear the wizards’ ghastly words
weaving, tumbling through the night, gaining fear and gathering fright.
Now comes the rampage, great delight these nasty things take on this night,
breaking flowers, spitting gunk, and from old trees they take a chunk,
snarling, baring all their teeth, leaf mould blown – what’s underneath?
And yet their search is thwarted much, they cannot give full evil touch
their killing game has lost some features! Namely that of all the creatures!
All clusters of the evil intent, squirm away, their power spent,
fading with the wizards’ rhyme of voices hoarse – they’ve had their time.

The Nightworld Forest is empty, aching, all its ‘children’ have been taken.
Yet soon to be restored again, the moon no longer on the wane,
the squorting things truly vanished, by power of the light they’re banished.
And all the creatures who had run, came back to home by morning sun.
Peaceful now in this green space. Who would guess now what took place?
Rampage in the Nightworld Forest
Mostly when the moon wanes it is thought to be a time for good rather than evil, dispersing negative thoughts, however, when the moon wanes over Nightworld Forest it is a different matter.  Dayworld Forest is a good place at this time but Nightworld Forest succumbs to Wizards and their entreaties to the dark side - when the moon is dark it allows all kinds of nasty creatures to chase, to kill and generally do very nasty things within the forest.  Good cannot exist in the place at that time, so it has to flee, but where it vacates to is a mystery and just as well.
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Dusty roads ahead that lead to nowhere;
my footfalls are as heavy as my heart.
Why do I run? I ask, Do you still care?
Did you not love me from the very start?

Questions always trailing close behind me,
following the path I have to take.
Answers so reluctant that remind me,
coming back could be a big mistake.

Yet from the scenes within me and around
pulling me with threads of ties so strong,
I’m drawn into the distance where the sound
of new beginnings plays into a song.

And so I tread the past behind me swiftly,
listening only to a tune that is intense,
seeing only visions that can lift me.
Only now my inner self is making sense.

It promises a love from whence I came
If not from you then maybe someone else.
I’ll smile. I’ll roll the dice. I’ll play the game
Keep my calm within my life’s erratic pulse.

I settle, watching traffic by the roadside
feet are weary but my load is somehow light.
A car stops, smiles within. Offer of a ride
welcomed as the evening turns to night.

Lights flash by. I cry, emotions at the brim
I start to tell my story. Sigh. It's done.
I settle in my seat, know the future is not grim
These people they will take me back to Home.

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shelleypalmer's Profile Picture
shelleypalmer
Sheila Palmer
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United Kingdom
A divorcee living with my son in North London. Loving humour and magic. In the past I wrote a column in Haunted Digital Magazine, and have written two children's books.

My dream is for a book or books to appear on bookshelves. All of those published so far are print-on-demand. This is because I have no patience to await agents' or publishers' replies - been that route and anyhow probably no chance because I haven't (a) murdered anyone (yet, though I have a few in mind!) or (b) have celebrity status or (c) smuggled drugs inadvertently and then been imprisoned in some Thailand jail for the past 20 odd years.

One of the books which illlustrates perfectly my naughty schoolboy/schoolgirl type of humour is: Mad Magda's Naughty Adult Fairy Tales - this is not erotica, though I think the books may have sold better if they had've been! No not my style, just very rude and full of innuendo.

www.amazon.com/Mad-Magdas-Naug…

A Journey in the Mind of the Goblin from Zo - my magical children's book
www.amazon.co.uk/A-Journey-Min…

www.feedaread.com/books/The-Se…
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:iconserendiipitii:
Serendiipitii Featured By Owner 4 days ago  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you for the support :rose:
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:iconkittysib:
KittySib Featured By Owner 6 days ago  Hobbyist General Artist
Thanks for the fave!:D
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:iconsupach:
Supach Featured By Owner Aug 16, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
Many thanks  for the :star:'s dear friend it´s appreciated :hug:
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:iconsupach:
Supach Featured By Owner May 11, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
+fav +fav +fav +fav Thanks for all your support +fav +fav +fav +fav  :hug:
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:iconshelleypalmer:
shelleypalmer Featured By Owner May 12, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
You are so welcome.  It's just words but if they can help to any degree then that's great because believe me they are sincere, but then you know that. 
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:iconsupach:
Supach Featured By Owner May 12, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
Hug 
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:iconurbanfaeri:
urbanfaeri Featured By Owner Apr 13, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank so much for the fave! I hadn't noticed earlier. It really means a lot to me coming from such a wonderful writer as yourself :D
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:iconshelleypalmer:
shelleypalmer Featured By Owner Apr 24, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
You are very welcome
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:iconsupach:
Supach Featured By Owner Apr 10, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
Oh hey a very charming profile photo of you. I like it :D
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:iconshelleypalmer:
shelleypalmer Featured By Owner Apr 10, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you - a selfie taken with the phone my son got me for Xmas - to be honest I'm still getting to grips with it - I've sussed the photos out to some degree but as for the rest it does,  I reckon it might take me a few years yet!
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:iconsupach:
Supach Featured By Owner Apr 10, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
Don´t ask me for help I have no idea either :laughing:
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:iconshelleypalmer:
shelleypalmer Featured By Owner Apr 10, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
You would think that because I work on a computer (laptop and two other screens simultaneously incorporating 2 databases and other applications) that I would find anything else easy but I don't. New procedures take me longer to get to grips with than most people I know!  Its reassuring when I come across anyone similar to myself!
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(1 Reply)
:iconlemgras330:
lemgras330 Featured By Owner Apr 2, 2016  Hobbyist Artisan Crafter
Happy Birthday Shelley!! :party:  :cake:
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:iconshelleypalmer:
shelleypalmer Featured By Owner Apr 3, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you - it came, it went and I feel a little older and a little sillier hence the poem I have just put on!
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:iconlemgras330:
lemgras330 Featured By Owner Apr 3, 2016  Hobbyist Artisan Crafter
I'm so behind in my DA chores! :hmm:

Just had a birthday on the 30th too, so I know what ya mean. :giggle:
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:iconshelleypalmer:
shelleypalmer Featured By Owner Apr 4, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
Happy belated birthday! - I did reply once but it didn't 'take' - I don't always see the birthday reminders as I am not on DA every day. Hope it was a good one!
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(1 Reply)
:iconemily-byrd:
Emily-Byrd Featured By Owner Apr 2, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
Happy birthday! :cake: :hug:
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:iconshelleypalmer:
shelleypalmer Featured By Owner Apr 2, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you very much!
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:iconfmrichter:
fmrichter Featured By Owner Apr 2, 2016   Writer
Happy birthday!!
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:iconshelleypalmer:
shelleypalmer Featured By Owner Apr 2, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
Nice of you - thanks!
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:iconbornwiththesun:
BornWithTheSun Featured By Owner Apr 2, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
Happy Birthday! :)
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:iconshelleypalmer:
shelleypalmer Featured By Owner Apr 2, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you very much!
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:iconbornwiththesun:
BornWithTheSun Featured By Owner Apr 2, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
You are super welcome! :D
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:iconsupach:
Supach Featured By Owner Apr 1, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
Let me be the first to congratulate you :D Hope you have a wonderful Birthday and get spoiled rotten all day, with love and best wishes from me:blowkiss: remake 
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:iconshelleypalmer:
shelleypalmer Featured By Owner Apr 2, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
Yes, thank you so much -  you are the first online although I haven't checked facebook yet.  My son has treated me to a wonderful cream birthday cake and I received a cordless lawnmower and cordless vacuum cleaner sent to me from me!!!  There was a time when I wanted clothes and perfume but I am happy with anything that makes life easier especially housework!
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