I fold my shameful wings

and pray that no one may see

what I hide.

 Dark stains taint the purity of what was.

  Wings hurl, averse to savage winds,

  which change wings to a form

  worn and aged by endless use.

  They do not return unscathed by storms;

   wet salt is thrown against what was dry.

  I mourn immaculate dove-white wings

  which have been altered to a wanderer's feathers,

  because I know their fate;

    to  be submerged yet again by torrents

    which rise against me.

                    Kerry Nicholas

 a bit of poetry bit my finger

lightly begging for a bit of attention

i shook it off and went on my way

it followed me down the vacant street

and into my own four wooden walls of space

it sat by me while I busied myself with other things

crawled on my pillow and whistled through the night

trying to find a door into my dreams

swimming in my cup of tea it

looked for an opening

slipped into my pocket and waited

for me to find it next to my favourite pen

She is tired of sitting there warming the skin

Of people who don't understand 

She's not a machine and she's not a slave 

So she runs as fast as she can

She whispers goodbye to the ones who pray

Whispers in fits of hurried words 

And she whispers goodbye to the skies

And she whispers goodbye to the birds

She's finished, she is 

And this job has been done 

So she waits until dusk 

And then begins to run 

It's terror on her heels

She never can go back 

                Garrett stood as Jackie, having finished her food, came into the room.

                “How is he?” she asked.

                “I gave him a sleeping drug. He’ll be out for a while. When he wakes up, I need to know so I can give him another painkiller,” Garrett explained.

                “Can do,” Jackie said, thrusting a thumb toward the back of the cave. “Go get yourself some food. You deserve it for trying to save his life.”

                “OK.” Garrett headed off.

It's hard to shake the feeling that I've messed up.  That I've opened my mouth when I shouldn't.  Even if I've made part of it right, I can't undo it.  The problem with most of my "crimes" is that they are done.  Finished.  I can't go back and edit out the little parts that I don't like, or delete them altogether.  Because of that, I'm not going to edit this, or ever delete it.  I don't feel I deserve such a thing.

Tass snickered. But he didn't say anything.

Rynere didn't dare move, but she glared with all her might in Tass's direction.

"Why didn't you tell us? Now we are going to die, and it's all your fault!"

"First thing," Tass sent her a cocked smile. "You're not dead yet, darling. Second thing. How do you think I've survived this fellow for a thousand years -and the king, as well -if all his arrows were poisoned?"

Rynere opened her mouth to reply, but stopped.

Matthan gave a short laugh.

 **I'm sorry for being so out of the loop....I really do hope this will mark the recapitulation of regularly posting on AP!**

~

"A Quiet Soul"

Part 1: Potato Chips

This is a kingdom, A king and a queen,

Their son and their daughter, Who just turned nineteen.

This is my own precious world.

A neighboring kingdom that sits by the sea,

The queen has died, the prince wants to be free.

This is my own precious world, this is my own precious world.

This is the world that I've made,

The masterpiece that I create.

This is the world that I've thought of,

This is the world, this is the world in my heart.

A runaway slave meets a sweet, caring girl,

The moon shining brightly Up there in the sky Sheds it's calming light And tells me not to cry.   Something in the shining Brightly glowing sphere Tells me it's alright And that God is always near.   Why that wildly beauteous But sweetly calming glow Makes me want to cry, and laugh, And dance, I do not know.   But as I look up high Up to the twinkling light, I know God made the moon And the moon's my friend tonight.