A (Very Small) Bit of Writing from Me

The Tour de France is underway!  For three weeks, it's 6:30 am mornings (earlier on mountain stages!) full of rolling countrysides, grueling endurance competition, and some of the greatest long-form suspense and drama in sports.  I'll be chugging coffee on the couch while alternating between wishing I lived in a more convenient time zone and staring in rapt attention at the TV.  Who knows, maybe I'll even get a little extra fic reading done during commercials.

For now though, I've got a few bits of doggerel that I've been sitting on for a bit.  At one point I'd thought to do a bestiary entirely consisting of blunt warnings that horrible, horrible things happen to foals who go into the Everfree Forest, but I didn't get very far; I only put together three complete poems before I lost interest, and I haven't come back to them since.  Still, if you like simple poems (I envisioned the completed product as something Twilight might have checked out as a foal from the whatever-the-pony-equivalent-of-the-Victorian-Era-is wing of the library and read to herself, before locking herself in her room for a week so the Timber Wolves couldn't eat her), feel free to click below the break.  I put all three there, for you to peruse (or not) as you please.  As always, comments and criticism are great, but in any case, I hope you enjoy!



An (Extremely Abridged) Everfree Bestiary

1) The Manticore

The Manticore's a frightening thing;
Claw 'gainst hoof, and wing 'gainst wing,
The beast will strike by land or sky,
And bring to bear its vicious sting.

Beware the needle-prick, my dear!
Its poison be thy greatest fear,
For jaws can bite, and claws can rend,
But mind thou what I tell thee here:

The poison sting will bring swift sleep,
And as thou drift in slumber deep,
The Manticore will lick its chops,
And what then be the fate thou reap?

To wake again, with all okay?
I fear it would not end that way;
The Manticore would eat thy flesh,
and gnaw thy bones.  Oh, dreadful day!

So do not tempt the Manticore,
The woods he dwells in: these, abhor!
For tales are fine, and poems as well,
But pray you never hear his roar!

2)  The Cockatrice

"Cockatrice, Cockatrice, whither do you go?"
"I go to stalk for dinner, dear; to dinner, dear, I go!"

"Cockatrice, Cockatrice, how do you move?"
"So smooth upon my serpent scales; upon my scales so smooth!"

"Cockatrice, Cockatrice, what do you eat?"
"My wheat is stone-made flesh, my darling; stone-flesh is my wheat!"

"Cockatrice, Cockatrice, whence your stone-made flesh?"
"'Tis made afresh by mine own eyes; my eyes make it afresh!"

"Cockatrice, Cockatrice, whom shall you view?"
"A pony lost out in the night... a pony such as YOU!"

3)  The Ursa

What is an ant to a pony?

A nuisance, a pest,
An unwelcome guest,
And if crushed underhoof, not to be missed?

And, pray, what art thou, my dear pony?

Art thou a pest?
Dost thou cause distress?
If crushed underfoot, would cheers be amiss?

If it is so, my dear pony,

Consider the Ursa; how big does he loom?
The steps that cause earthquakes, the growls that boom,
If ever he misstepped, then I can assume,

You'd feel more an ant than a pony!