Poetry

Grimlock

Me, Grimlock

I can take all of you on

shoulder force, jaw ready

No problem I can’t smash away

 

Me, Grimlock

I can be on your side

watch me crunch, watch me maul

I’m the behemoth you want

 

Me, Grimlock

I’ve got nothing to hide

I’ll bare my teeth, eyes glowing

Tell me your war stories

or I’ll spin some for you

 

Me, Grimlock

I’ll seek you out

You can’t match my strength

rough or not, your meagre force

won’t survive very long

 

 

Poetry

Ears

An elephant’s ears are like grey, wrinkled sails

shading the ground for little creatures

who scurry from bush and tree

dragging long, furry tails.

 

A bat’s ears are keen and tune into slight sounds,

hearkening to the call of insects

filling the dark night air

to swarm all around.

 

A parrot’s ears are covered with glossy green feathers

hidden completely from sight,

never hinting when they’re listening

for slight changes in the weather.

 

A hare’s ears are furry but upright,

always on the alert for danger,

ready to respond to the sound of a threat,

running swiftly from a predator’s swipe.

 

Poetry

Playing cards

I search through the deck of cards, upsetting the neatness of the stack. It doesn’t matter, I can tidy them later; line them up and place them all in order, making sure everything is correct, that the story still flows.

Out of line is the only way I can see the stats clearly, see my qualities measured against each other.

Can I really call them qualities?

I don’t know, but at least I have proof that they exist. That I exist. Until my small house of cards tumbles to the floor.