I Entered a Dark Forest

29/02 – Poem a Day Compilation Bonus Poem



I stood at the edge of the forest

The sunlight barely filtering through

The wind gusted about me

And I wrapped my cloak around my shoulders



The basket I carried was heavy

Full of treats for my grandmother dear

Who lived all by herself

On the other side of the forest



I’d made this trip before

With my mother several times

And know they way off by heart

Even if it does look so very dark



I’d been warned about the creatures

Who live in the forest

And how they might try to tempt me

Away from the path before me



I was to ignore their plaintiff cries

And continue on my way

Straight to Grandma’s house

With no delay at all



As I ventured deep in to those woods

A wolf first howled then cried to me

Begging for some tasty treats

That surely wouldn’t be missed



But I remembered my mother’s warning stern

And kept right along the path

The wolf tracking right there with me

Hoping I’d change my mind



The wolf it was most cunning, though

And it snuck ahead of me

Arriving at my Grandma’s house

Before I was even near



It made its way into her room

And gobbled her up right there

Then lay upon her bed in wait

For me to walk through the door



The wolf did not look at all the same

As my Grandma’s gentle features

The ears, the eyes, the nose, the teeth

All certain give aways



I screamed my little heart up

Until I thought my lungs would burst

And a woodchopper working down the lane

Came running to help me out



He startled at the sight he saw

A wolf bigger than he’d ever seen

And me, a little girl wrapped up

Under the reddest cape there ever was



With one swift swipe he sliced the wolf

Straight down the front as it reared

And out stepped my Grandma

Without a scratch anywhere on her



The woodchopper took the wolf outside

And Grandma had a shower

She said she felt a little odd

From her ordeal inside the wolf



Then we three sat and had some treats

To calm our shaken nerves

And all agreed this story would

Never be believed

A Modern Fairytale

18/12/2020 – Poem a Day Compilation



Once upon a time

There was a writer who was very sad

Because her words would not come to her

They were behaving very bad



They teased her relentlessly

And would not work as a team

They played mischief with her mind

Like a nightmare, not a dream



She looked out into the sky above

And wished upon a star

That she’d find some inspiration

That her reputation, it wouldn’t mar



Then the heavens opened up

Lightening flashed thick and fast

Thunder cracked over head

And a spell, it was cast



Her fingers flew across the keys

Injecting a magic to her story

It was like nothing else that she had written

And would cover her with glory



Before she knew the night was over

And the sun peered over the horizon far

But her masterpiece, it was complete

Ready to sell at the bazaar



She phoned every publisher

But every door slammed in her face

She was as yet undiscovered

She had yet to find her place



What little feedback she received

Was like a dagger to her chest

She’d poured out her heart and soul

And she’d tried her very best



As she poured over library books

On how to become a better writer

A woman sat down opposite her

And she suddenly felt much lighter



“I see you are a writer,”

The wise old woman said

And the writer peeked over her book

With a sense of fear and dread



“Oh, don’t be afraid, my dear,

I’m hear to help you out

They call me fairy godmother

But you can call me Bubblesprout



“That’s not my real name, you know

It’s my nom de plume

And I think it rather suits me

But it’s you I’ve come to groom.”



The writer put down the book

And looked this woman up and down

She appeared to be quite grandmotherly

But dressed in a grandiose ballroom gown.



The writer thought herself imagining

When Bubblesprout stood up

She thought she saw actual sparkles

And was that an actual buttercup?



She followed her in a daze

To where she’d parked her car

“Oh, no, this will never do”

She exclaimed as if a movie star



With a flourish, she produced a wand

And waved it round and round

Muttering incoherent words

Until the car could not be found



In its place a carriage stood

Adorned with gold and jewels

But no one walking by seemed to care

Were they blind or just poor fools?



“Are we going to meet a prince?”

Asked the writer in disbelief

Bubblesprout smiled then laughed

And answered “Oh, good grief!



“What do you want a prince for?

What you need is an editor in chief

To turn your beautiful work of art

Into something beyond belief.”



The writer smiled and laughed herself

And handed over the manuscript

She caught her breath in anticipation

And a beat in her heart was skipped



The pages fluttered as if enchanted

Words rearranging themselves

A wonderfully crafted cover formed

The book ready to hit the shelves



“How long will this magic last?”

The writer queried in earnest

And Bubblesprout turned to her

With a look that was the sternest



“This magic is within you

Whenever you choose it,

You never needed me at all

It’s yours when you want to use it.”



And with that she disappeared

Leaving only a puff of smoke

The writer sitting in her car

Wondering if she’d had a stroke



But there on the passenger seat

Sat a book so finely bound

And tucked between its pages

A card was to be found



Upon the card was the name

Of a publisher of high repute

Who could see the writer’s vision

And plan a campaign to suit



The writer then lived

Happily ever after

In a world that celebrated her

And joined in her laughter



Now, I know what you’re all thinking:

What kind of absurdity is this?

That’s not how publishing works

There’s something terribly amiss



And while you’re probably right

You’re also probably wrong

Because with the help of a good editor

You know it can’t be long



How long long is is difficult

To put a specific number on

But when it happens, look out

Through bookstore doors you’ll swan



So have faith in your abilities

Get your own Bubblesprout

Because rejections are going to happen

But one day you’ll get to shout



THIS is my book

And it’s not a fairytale

It’s as real as real can be

Available in print, audio and braille