The Evangeline Traveller

There she was in all her fury

Remarkable zest, eyes of obscurity

As they did the occasional down and up

All was noticed was a slender soul

But to me was someone who made me whole

Her curly hair lined its way into my heart

She had clowned them all from the start

As I touched the curly soul there writhed agony

As she menaced to sensation there stood testimony

The aphrodising hand that cried the river

The pheromonic angst that lit through the doorway

The rainbow in her presence whispered me a tale

Breaking a solemn purity, she put down the veil

Little did she know that there crept a shadow

There stood the demon holding the lantern

The sweet giggle pierced through mahogany

While the tongue in cheek softened up the story

Crimson and tantalized as she lay halfway across the bed

Her plain psychosis charmed a thousand loves never said

As she walked by my fence, I crept steady into her secret room

She wove her own Charlotte’s web, I spent time with a valuable cartoon

L’amour jested past a million curses, her purple aura did attain

In tender darkness sailing beyond, le désir dans ses veines

She is the graceful wind, ravaging past sensible mediocrity

An Evangeline traveller, she guided me through her mystical city









The Beaver and the Bird

This is dedicated to someone who is actually just like anyone else and happened to raise another emotional flow

That little everyday bird came and perched on it’s regular branch, and today instead of looking left and right, it looked down and saw a beaver.

The wanderer without much haste tread in it’s usual fashion and like everyday expected the sound of the wind, the feel of the grass and the push of the usual heat. However today he did hear chirping.

The little beaver tripped and fell, and as he sat back up there stood a new figure on his head. The beaver moved as the bird showed delight towards the traveler. With the usual wood to pile up the beaver kept moving here and there near his domain. Crouching with passion and grooving with ease, the beaver caught the attention of the bird who had decided to sit on the nearby rock to wait for it’s food. The little bird chirped in delight at the exalted one. The bird flew to him and repeatedly splashed some water cooling him while under the sun. They beaver scratched his nose and took some water in his mouth, gurgled and splashed back in return.

The next day the beaver had resolved to his daily exercise with the heart that had become wooden, mirroring his work. At night as he he dawdled with his tail pointing at the stars he met the bird again who wanted extra company until she found the need to go to her next. The innocent being asked him if he knew some songs. The beaver shed some of it’s hair on the matter. Then as the time arrived, it was time for her to fly elsewhere and him to go back instead of joining.

The next day the beaver was feeling jolly and was doing his happy dance when he met the little bird flying his way, so happy that he greeted her by boosting her a bit more towards the sky. The little one gave a little chirp and then asked him on something he’d commented on earlier, her grace. The beaver gave a random wag of his tail and replied as his own grace commanded. Then as he was leaving to the direction of another, she sang a sudden encore.

Their friendship is interesting and quite different even though both are on usual grounds every time. The suddenness is however a simple similarity which the beaver has seen with the others who’ve passed by. Hence as he is arranging the last of his wood he realizes his home still looks the same but has flowers blooming from some of them this time. The fellow now stands confused until the point he puts his tail back up and starts wandering again.