Sheila's Dribs 'n Drabs

Forged of timeless power yielding Strength only to Arthur, see Excalibur in stone and water Wielding flames while Avalon remains Above the elements, for healing.

It’s not a doughnut if it’s not got a hole. But the hole’s inside. It holds the jam. And holes in your heart hold love.

Slumped in a corner, he watched the victim die. Who was this man? The murderer rose, gazed dark-eyed back at him. Then two became one.

“Don’t fall off.” His broad back sways, smooth-haired, sweet-scented with hay. Hooves clop on turf then stray with her, smooth-haired, sweet-scented, mail-ordered bride. She stays.

In the library with a hammer? I always thought books more appropriate but language slaughtered lies bleeding. Who dunnit? Bricks’n mortared store becomes a computer.

When words won’t flow, let them drip. When the torrent’s too fierce, stop and sip. When the picture’s broke, let your prose paint something different.

Tall as night behind the altar, holding light, incense devouring flame, the guardian stands and sinners crouch in shame. “Arise.” Hope wakens brightly, reprobates redeemed.