Slay

These poems are a journey 
That began in the light of hope and love
Then slowly meandered through increasing darkness
They dare to expose the skeletons and demons
Barely hidden behind my front door for too long
The narration begins in the middle
After darkness had well fallen
And documents my struggle to breathe
My desperate journey to find myself again

And for those who live with horrors who wear human faces
If I found my way free
I know you can too
Let these poems serve as proof
That though it is not easy
Freedom can be won
You can take your life back
Write the story exactly as YOU wish it to be

Sometimes the dragon burns down the world
As long as you’re standing
No matter how wounded
You can slay that dragon
You ARE the hero of your story
YOU get to say when the story is over
YOU get to decide how the new book starts
YOU get to do whatever the hell YOU want
Take my story and forge it into your sword of courage
SLAY

-gws

Ode to Audiobooks

In the days of old
Storytellers traveled far and wide
Plying their trade at hearth and square
Sharing tales true and mythical
Of heroes and villains
Triumph and tragedy
Honing the sharpness of their wordplay
Weaving captivating tales for coin
Where are the bards of today
Spinning tales for the eager

I host a phantasmagoria of storytellers
Tucked neatly into my pocket
Poised to share hours of narration
For an audience of one
A tap a screen whisks me away
Into a plethora of elaborate worlds
Thousands of hours of storycraft
Read by hosts of skilled modern bards
Memoirs and poetry
Worlds fictional and factual
Could the traveling rhapsodist
In their pre-modern world
Dare dream of such wonders
As the miraculous audiobook

-gws

The Bookish Child

(For Abriana)

I met a little girl once
And quite a girl she was
Her passion was for reading
It was her deepest love

Words became her closest friends
And stories her salvation
She hung on words like branching limbs
One swings from on vacation

I hope she knows how special she is
I pray she never wonders
If she’s really ever good enough
When seen through eyes of others

I imagine her crafting stories one day
Deep and rich and compelling
Inspiring another child
To fall in love with storytelling

-gws

A Heart for Art

Photo by Matheus Bertelli on Pexels.com
Lightning bugs
Fairy wings
Eyelash wishes
Magical things
Puffy clouds up in the sky
Shifting dreams just passing by
Daydreams spinning round young heads
Sweet dream wishes for their beds
Storyteller's well worn seat
Children sitting at their feet
Wonderment in every eye
Silent tears for sad goodbyes
Weave for them a strange new world
And embed it in the heart of a girl
Or a boy who's heart still dreams
Of mythic heroes or vicious fiends
In the core of every child
Lives possibility fresh and wild
A precious gift within each heart
Inspirations from which grows art

-gws

The Lost Lost Boy

Peter Pan Mt Eden (1928) by Museum of New Zealand is licensed under CC-CC0 1.0
Oh Peter!
You have lost a Lost Boy
He never made it to Neverland
He couldn't find the second star on the right
And he ended up in the Alleys of Midnight
Alone and scared
No one could hear him
No one would help him
Everyone he trusted let him down

Oh Peter!
As he grew up
(For the Alleys of Midnight
Forced everyone to grow up)
His spirit grew dark
His shadow dominant
He waited for rescue that never came
And his tears turned him bitter
And his bitterness bred a rage
That would quake the feather
In Captain Hook's hat

Oh Peter!
Can you help him?
Can you rescue him?
Can you take him to the forests
And play follow-the-leader games?
Can you show him how to
Think happy thoughts again?
Can you resurrect his inner child
By splashing in the Mermaid Lagoon?
Can you help him believe in hope again?

-gws