The Melancholy of a Bodyguard


When she walks into a room, all is silent.

Poised with aplomb, no one is ever violent.

Classy is her adept style, she’s set to rule.

Be I her earth, always her eternal tool.


Her aspects of a princess, looks smooth like water.

Her words are true, known to have stopped a slaughter.

Clothed in pleasing robes of silk, she has it all.

Eternal bliss, an angel sent from heaven’s hall.


Her red lips arouse firm lust, my mouth turns dry.

Her wise bright eyes, shining like a fair blue sky.

Like a time lord’s solitude, her mind wanders.

Embracing fate, her clipped wings...she needless ponders.


Gentle are her chosen words, finer than mine.

Drunk when she laughs, her grin tastes like a cool wine.

She’s the saviour of many, none oppose her.

Contrast us both, I am but a lowly cur.


Be still my heart, if only for a second.

So I can ponder my fate, my soul I reckon.

Damned I shall be, for the feelings I hold dear.

LEAVE FLEE DEPART! For now you must disappear...


Feelings of love, sorrow, joy, they have no place.

The devil toys, with feelings that cannot erase.

If God were to rub me clean, I’d be left scarred.

To be her guard...

Is my love truly this barred?


Forever am I bound, by law, by curse?

Bulk my bias, would just make her vigour worse.

She is breath to all who gaze, I am her foil.

Nevertheless, I love and therefore must toil.


Thus, this princess I do love, my heart doth beat!

Stout misery, her scent is pang bittersweet.

When I look into those eyes, it pains me so.

She is my life, and that is all I know.

She is perfect, sadly, that is my woe...

Author's Notes/Comments: 

A poem of the internal turmoil which arises from one living a life of servitude.

The Pegasaur

The old hunter stared wearily at the magnificent creature in front of him.  He couldn’t believe that he had managed to capture this unknown creature with his horribly put together dragon trap.  He wondered if his wife would awaken him with her sickly coughs and moans soon.  But, surely, this could not be a dream, for who could ever imagine such a creature?

            He gazed at the creature as the sun glinted off the brilliant silver scales decorating its spines, hind legs, and tail.  Catching his eyes were the silver and gold feathers lining the beasts wings, leaving silver hair resting over the horse-like appearance of the head and chest.  The eyes of the creature remained open as the hunter, waiting patiently for the rest of his clan to arrive, studied him.  The creature’s eyes were glittering gold and marked with intelligence.  No, this could not be a dream.  Never before had a creature of this sort been seen and never could it have been imagined.

            Acknowledging that this was indeed happening, the old hunter smiled with glee.  He wouldn’t be the joke of the clan anymore.  When he was a younger man, he was praised for the fine catches he would make.  Every other day it seemed that creatures in the wood would just happily run into his trap.  Whether it was a fire fox or a vegetable lamb, the hunter was able to catch it.  As he became older and older and procured more injuries on the hunting trips, he seemed to lose his grip on hunting.  Once he was the greatest hunter in the land and now he was the joke of the clan, not being able to catch a mere snow squirrel in the middle of July.  The old hunter was delighted that this was not a dream.  He lifted his head as the breeze from the west moved his long, scraggly hair and gently stirred the leaves.  He looked up into the sky, noticing the position of the sun.

            A quarter of the way up, they should be here soon, he thought to himself.

            The clouds were gently drifting by.  The birds were…  No, they weren’t chirping.  The sound of the forest creature’s…  No, there was no sound.  Apart from the sound of the wind, the forest was dreadfully silent.  The quietness was unsettling.  The old man had never experienced such a silence in the forest usually in abundance of sound and he was anxious to get out of there as soon as possible, away from the unbearable silence with the unknown cause.  The hunter started to pace as he waited for the other hunters to arrive.

            The beast just lay there, caught in the dragon trap, with what looked like … Compassion in its magnificent eyes.

            Where are they?  He pondered mere seconds before the rustling in the undergrowth gave way to the band of hunters.

            “’Bout time you got here!  I only was waitin’ for nearly two hours in this godforsaken clearing.  It’s this damned silence; it’s unsettlin’!”  He blabbed on and on as the rest of the hunters captured their first look of the creature before them.

            “Looks beautiful!”

            “I wonder if that’s real silver on ‘im?”

            “Do you think we could pass it off as dragon meat?”

            “The feathers would sell at market.”

            The hunters were discussing incessantly about the gains they would make from this perfect catch.  All the while, the old hunter stood there, watching the creature who probably could have escaped from his pitiful attempt at a trap.  As the old hunter thought this, the creature blinked as a single tear dropped to the ground, one single silver tear.  The ground shook suddenly as the teardrop was absorbed into the ground.  Only the old hunter seemed to notice that upon the ground the teardrop fell, the flowers seemed to get brighter and denser, the grass seemed to become greener.  How could he let them kill this creature that they knew nothing of, this beautiful enigma of a being?

            “Earthquake!”  cried one of the hunters.

            “Let’s just kill it now before something else comes along to kill us!” proclaimed another.

            “Why do we haf’tuh- kill the creature?  We don’t even know what it is!” asked the old hunter as he hobbled up past the other hunters and towards the creature.

            “That’s what we do,” asserted the chief, “We hunt, we capture, we kill, we profit.  Who cares what the thing is as long as it’s worth somethin’!”

            “But why?  Is that the only purpose of us existin’?  Surely there’s more t’life than this, destroying an innocent that we know nothin’ of?  How do we even know if it’s not poisonous?”

            “It is what it is and we’ll soon find out.  Now stand back,” the chief ordered as the other hunters murmured their approval.  The old hunter stayed where he was, finally realizing that what he had been doing for more than 50 years of his life wasn’t for survival, but for sport and gain.  If only his ailing wife could see him now, she would be proud.  “Move, old man.”  The chief pushed him into the other hunters as he walked toward the creature, “Hold ‘im back.”

As the old hunter stared on, dreading the death of this innocent creature, the beast raised its head and looked straight into his eyes.  The creature’s eyes now held a look of both pure joy and sorrow, waiting for the next moment to finally happen.

            Confused and frightened by the creatures’ act, the chief drew his sword and stabbed the beast in the heart.  Not a sound was heard throughout the forest as the beast laid his head back on the ground, dying.  It was as if the whole forest was mourning the capture and death of the beautiful creature.  But wait, looking at the creature the hunters realized that something peculiar was happening.  It was melting!  The hunters stared in astonishment, at what would have been the hunter’s greatest catch, as it melted to a sticky silver substance that proceeded to sink into the ground.  A small rumble shook the ground yet again.

            “What is this sorcery?  Let’s  leave this godsforsaken place!” cried their leader.

            All of the hunters, save one, left the clearing and traveled with angry hearts at the loss of their prey.  The original, old hunter stayed in the clearing, staring at the spot the beast had been laying.  A third rumble stirred the ground and in the blink of an eye four creatures, similar to the previously captured one apart from their colors and smaller sizes, materialized before his eyes.  It was as if they came directly from the ground.  Oh, the surprise he felt as one of those magnificent creatures approached him.  From the mouth of the green-feathered creature before him, a vial dropped at his feet with what looked to be the tear of the beast they had so callously murdered in greed.  Scared to move, the old hunter waited until the creatures had flown from the clearing before picking up the vial.  Upon closer examination, the hunter realized that there was an inscription on the cork.  The only word he could make out was “Heal.”  This was surely a gift from the gods.


            The old man immediately knew that the gods favored the creature he had caught.  Although they had killed the innocent being, its death had allowed four new creatures to be born and now his wife might finally be healed from her cursed illness.  He had shown compassion toward the creature and had experienced a change of heart, deserving, in the creatures eyes, the wonderful gift of its healing tears.  As he backed out of the clearing, he gave a silent prayer of thanks to the gods.

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Years later

First time

Years later

Went beyond the kiss left wondering 

Found waterfalls 



First time

Years later

Our skin heaving 

Our bodies breathing 

He's deep

She's screaming 











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There was a creature of unknown origin in my bathroom.


And since the strangest occurrences tend to find us at the strangest times, I was also naked and about to step behind the folds of the shower curtain. The water had been running for a little over a minute and hot steam was already belching over top of the stained curtain rod. I stood there, legs splayed with one wet and the other dry, and stared at the fishcat as it made its slow, leisurely way across the pink and tan tiling. You heard me: a fishcat. That's what it was. Or rather, that's the best way I can describe how it appeared.


It seemed docile enough. Its tiny ears were laid flat against its head like a feline with an attitude problem, but it only peered up at me with its shining green eyes and returned my blank stare. Its back was flat and thin and covered with fur that was stark white with large gray splotches. Its tail was long and almost monkey-like; it seemed to reach and flex and move of its own accord. At the end of its length the tail split and fanned out, forming a furry and undersized fin. It was entirely gray with white tips capping off the ends of the fin, though it looked as if it would be useless for swimming. After noticing that the creature had no legs, I assumed that the "fin" was used as an apparatus for floating rather than paddling along an ocean or a lake. I'm not a scientist - let me just make that clear right now.


We stood there in what I figured was a mutually-held fascination. I didn't feel alarmed. Really, I was more confused than anything. The fishcat seemed to share my sentiment, and maintained its stare as if confounded by the fact that I was interrupting its bathroom time. It had a small nose colored bright pink, and its whiskers were very long and sagging towards the floor. Its tail swayed hypnotically; to and fro and to and fro. Finally it let its eyes grow heavy and droop, as if I was boring it, and went on hovering across the floor while intermittently sniffing at the base of the toilet or sink. It didn't seem intent on causing any trouble. I'm not sure how it would if it did intend to, but I also wasn't able to figure out how it could fly, and I doubted that it had any interest in answering my questions.


I went on with my shower. I washed and relaxed while listening for any unusual noises that would signal what my unexpected visitor might be up to. I heard the rustling of a plastic bag and peeked around the patterned shower curtain. Looking down, I watched the fishcat idly mashing its face against the side of my trash bin; rubbing its cheeks along the side and against the corners. It glanced up at me casually and then went about its business, never straying further than the bathroom doorway. I went back to scrubbing myself and minutes later was assaulted by a litany of gargling meows and whines. Alarmed, I wrenched the soaked curtain aside and saw the fishcat, floating just at the foot of the bathtub and staring up at me with an expression of rapt interest. Its pupils were huge and jet black. The moment my face was visible, its look of listlessness and boredom returned. Apparently it just wanted to know where I'd run off to all of the sudden.


Feeling cleansed, I turned off the water and opened the shower curtain a final time before reaching for my towel. A small part of me was wary of stepping out onto that cold, tiled floor. Not just because it was cold and my feet are sensitive like a noblewoman's, but because the fishcat was still there and, for all I knew, it really liked the way that people's toes taste. But step out I did, and as I dried my hair with the towel over my head, the fishcat took the opportunity to weave in and out of my legs, rubbing its coarse whiskers against my ankles as it went. It was difficult to tell if this was a gesture of affection or if it was just gauging how easily it would be able to vivisect and devour me once I fell asleep. It circled about my feet with its tail licking at my skin, occasionally diverting its eyes to meet mine before looking back towards the ground. It mewed softly to itself; each utterance gurgled through a sound like distant, crashing waves.


Once dried, I lingered for a moment just beneath the frame of the bathroom door. I could sense the fishcat straying just behind my feet, likely waiting to see what I would do next. I felt a sort of detached awe at how casual I was being about whatever the hell this thing was and how it managed to find its way into my house. I figured some subconscious part of my mind had a handle on the situation, and strode into my bedroom to get dressed. As I clothed myself, I made an effort to pay no attention to where the fishcat might be or what it was doing. Maybe I was testing myself to see if I had just imagined the whole thing -- I can't really say. Sure enough, the furry, fishy thing peered around the corner of my bedroom door, as if wary I would shoo it away. I looked at it and wondered, not for the first time, what it might want. Its eyes had grown big and bugging again - this was its "anticipatory" face, I surmised. After pulling on my shorts, I turned to face the fishcat and slowly, gently, squatted down to my haunches before extending my right arm in its direction. I lifted my hand with its palm faced towards the ceiling and waited, fingers splayed.


With much hesitation the fishcat curled itself around the wooden door frame. Sat at its level, I could see that it really did have nothing supporting the weight of its chubby, rounded body. Its clean, white fur fully enveloped its frame and covered its belly as well. There were no gray spots on its underside, making the smattering of gray on top look something like a painted-on turtle shell. Lowering its head, the unusual creature drifted towards my outstretched limb with its stomach just inches from the floor, flicking its eyes from my fingers to my face and back again. It pushed out its neck as far as it could manage and gave me a tentative sniff, locking its gaze with mine as it did. Being offered my scent seemed to satisfy and ease its mind, and it once again acquired that dull and placid expression before proceeding to explore the contents of my bedroom.


What to do, what to do. I was now confident that the creature wasn't going to try and kill me unexpectedly, but this insight presented a new quandary: do I get rid of it? If I wanted to, how? Where would I even leave the thing, and would it just wander back into my house, like it did the first time? Come to think of it, how the hell did it even get inside? As if to answer my question by example, I was treated to another chorus of its strange, waterlogged cries and set about figuring out where it had gone. I dropped to my knees and checked beneath my bed. Nothing there, so I moved on and peered into the disarray that was my closet. Still nothing, and the sounds of its mewling and clamoring were getting more frantic. Even so, it sounded quiet; almost muffled. Where the hell did it get to in ten seconds? My armoire rattled fitfully. The wooden doors shook and one peeked open briefly before closing with a dull thud.


I shuffled over and opened the offending door, only to see the fishcat, restlessly swooping back and forth above the top shelf while occasionally digging its face into the sleeves of my t-shirts. It looked at me as the light encroached on its new hovel and uttered a long, whining cry, as if offended I hadn't found it sooner. It then gracefully slipped from its perch and descended to the wooden floor slowly, like a balloon leaking helium. There it settled momentarily before zipping between my legs, making hasty figure-eights around my calves. I watched it go 'round and 'round and attempted to make sense out of how it gotten itself inside of the armoire. Its doors were solid and closed and there were no openings on its back or underside. Yet, he had found a way in, just like he apparently had with my front door.


It occurred to me that I was suddenly think of it as a "he" and somehow, that felt appropriate. I wasn't about to try and check - for all I knew there was a portal to another dimension located just below the creature's anus. Suddenly he took off and jetted out of the room, looking like a snowy lightning bolt with his tail stretched out behind him. I followed briskly and found him in my kitchen, staring up at the sink with those big, green eyes transfixed on the faucets. Automatically I stepped to his right and retrieved a bowl from a hanging cupboard, never once realizing that there was no possible way this thing knew what a sink was used for. I filled the bowl with some cold tap water without further question, retrieved a paper towel and sat the bowl on top of it in the nearest corner of the room. As I did so he flitted between my legs once more, rubbing his furry exterior against my feet and ankles. Then he set about lapping up the water noisily and with great enthusiasm. I watched him and smiled, happy that he was happy.


For minutes he sat there, guzzling the water as best he could with his tiny pink tongue. Occasionally he would dip his face into the bowl and submerge his snout, and trails of bubbles would erupt from his nose. I observed with some fascination as he licked the bowl completely dry, leaving no trace of moisture once finished. He then turned to me and lifted his tail, where it twitched and danced erratically. Not being sure what to make of this, I did what only came naturally, and bent down to stroke his fur. I figured he would draw back or even become frightened and flee, but he only thrust his head out to meet my hand. I scratched him gently and rubbed behind his ears, wondering if his nerves worked the same way that a dog's might. His eyes shut and he appeared blissful as I pet him, only stirring to encourage me to scratch other parts of his neck and back. Soon he was turning over and over in mid-air, like a pig on a spit, so that I could rub his belly as well. Some part of me expected him to purr, but when I leaned a bit closer, all I could hear rumbling from his throat were the sounds of the tide.


He was a charming little thing, despite his unusual... Characteristics. I decided I should keep him.


To this day I've never seen him eat a single piece of solid food. He drinks about three times more water than I do on average, and will occasionally disappear; some times for hours. The first time this happened I panicked, and spent the better part of the afternoon tearing my house apart, before venturing out into the yard, hoping to spot my fishcat. After I despaired and assumed him gone forever, he suddenly turned up, once again above the floor in my bathroom. This became a habitual exchange: whenever he vanished, I would turn on the light above my bathroom mirror and wait. Eventually I would hear distant, gargling cries that would grow progressively louder and clearer, before hearing an odd, blunted sound like wet cardboard being thrown to the floor. Then I'd peer into the bathroom and there he'd be, floating either directly in front of the toilet, over the bathtub drain or just below the lip of the sink; both eyes on me. He did reappear over the kitchen sink once, but was visibly distraught and yowling even after I came to find him, and never reemerged from there again. Despite the fact that the ground beneath him would invariably be soaking wet, his fur was always bone dry.


After watching him simply knock over his water bowl and roll in the puddles left strewn across the kitchen floor, I took to filling the tub for him every couple of days. The first time I did, he seemed to lose his mind with joy. He ran his circles around my feet, did a lap around my tiny bathroom and then threw himself like a drunken skinny dipper into the warm water. Though the tub isn't especially large or accommodating, I was amazed to see how gracefully he could move while submerged. He appeared to grow and shrink while under the water, and moved with a speed and fluidity that seemed impossible considering the limited space. When he tired of his baths and left to drift about the house, I would drain the tub; always noticing that several inches of water had gone missing since he first dove in. This, more than anything else, left me baffled. I couldn't imagine how a creature not much larger than a Yorkshire terrier could actually drink several gallons of liquid while SWIMMING through it. I entertained a theory that he could somehow absorb moisture through his skin or fur, but had no means of confirming it.


Past a certain point I decided that it wasn't important to try and understand everything about my new friend. He seemed to be sticking around, and it was difficult to feel lonely while he was wriggling his way between my knees or bumping his head against my dangling hand so that I would stroke his fur the way he likes. And no, I never named him. Doing so seemed redundant, somehow. I don't tell people about him because I don't want people to think I've lost my mind, nor do I want to confirm to myself that I actually have. He makes me happy, and as far as I can tell, the feeling is mutual. Maybe if I wind up with a litter of fishcat pups swimming circles in my toilet bowl, I might let the rest of the word know about my furry, fishy little roommate. Until then, I think I'll do what I can to keep him to myself.

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A Claw From A Cloud

The Prompt Pit

A Claw From A Cloud


The sins of her father soak her clothes,

Freeze her blood and crack her bones.

Vapid she sings and evil she grows, 

Cruel to a limit that nobody knows.

A claw from the sky reaches down to her bed,

Snatches her body and turns her head.

The shadows that face her grow darker still,

Brooding and snarling but waiting until,

She loses the need to stare at the clouds,

Teasing ideas that they cannot allow.

They wait, but the girl still grabs at the sky,

So they order the Sun to dazzle her blind.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

© Lizzie Ayres, 2013

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Lulled Hush



Lull in the hush as stars in heaven rise,

slowly drifting past the sun setting skies

With sprinkled dust bringing finale to day,

the magic from sandman lures you away


Grasping the rainbows as eve fades from sight,

vivid horizons painting dreams at night

Entered world - graced with like beauty in kind,

'held wonders come from purest heart and mind


To lands where innocence only may roam,

visions leading to well of wish's home

With drawing breath - giving moment in thought,

tossed on a penny, whispered fancies sought


Through open meadows, a view to delight,

dewdrops to diamonds in morning's light

Surfaced on ripples - lies palace of gold,

other side to a coin that few behold


Flowers in blossom and shades under trees,

whisked wings from angels creating a breeze

Coursing green valleys, honey flowing streams,

within depths of banks the cool water gleams


Behind your eyes the images unfold,

spun to ceaseless smiles, the stories are told

Lulled in the hush, chasing a twinkled sky,

hoping you'll never have to say goodbye




Author's Notes/Comments: 

Just another handful of words.

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The river

am I nothing but broken bones? is this beating heart nothing but a burden to myself & everyone I meet..?
as I walk through this valley alone..

the shadows become something i've well known.
your eyes, they magnetize.. the fear in my soul is screaming out "lies!"
where should I try to hide..?

the clouds hang above, as the river i'm crossing over continues to flow..
if I were to fall, would anyone ever know? slipping away from it all, even myself..
glancing at these hands, I wonder what would be different if I was somebody else..


this forest goes farther than the birds & the trees..
this grass grows taller than below our knees..
my fate is an open wound.. bleeding.. bruised.. cut & used..
where am I going..? what am I to do..?
too many questions within me.. are we all our own worst enemy..?
on the top of this hill, the sunrise & fall reminds me of Gods undying love..
every memory that follows behind is purpose-less..
how could you think you know me better than I know myself?
every word you spew is worthless..


dreams are like looking through stained glass..

all different shapes, colors, hues..
why would you want to watch them shatter.. how could it not matter!?
one thing to remember.. don't give your love away, for the sake of saving someone else...


path after path, turn upon turn.. we struggle, maybe learn..
I stare into space & wait.. for something, i'll never know exactly what...
ashes have become of these fantasies..
careful not to let the blood of the past stain what is of my today..
dancing around the casualties.. murder my misery.


shed a tear for everything that used to be & let it all blow far over me.
if only we could all perfectly mend these wounds..
fragilties of life, scars of death..
the last time you close your eyes... that very last breath..


black night sky with stars so electric..
fragrant & soothing, my boat keeps moving..
row, row, drift away..
feet in the dirt but i'm being pulled astray..
the current so strong & winds full force.
the ocean is taking it's course..


beneath the misty swamp, stirs disarray..
where Satan's children go to play..
one by one, two by two.. sinking to the bottom.
he's a theif, can't you tell..?
reeking of that evil smell..
naive indeed as you let him feed..
you act as if life has turned you to this bad seed..
fool, you did it to yourself...
why blame someone else?


& finally I jump in the river to drown..
reaching out for my savior, not because i'm in danger..
I need to be taken from this earth.. I smile because i'm hurt...
when my feet hit the river floor, i'll close my eyes, & open the doors..
a light shone through, my hope for God was true...
I embrace... soon free... this body was never me.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

7.26-7.27- 2013.

The Tower of The Magic Man

The Prompt Pit

Fifty miles from any mere mortal, evil or kind,

In the Mountains' peaks and the clouds' crisp chill,

There stands a Tower of ancient stone and midnight glow,

Built by The Magic Man, who haunts there still.

A place where lakes and forests blanket the dales,

Where starlight dapples on pale faces and creatures wild, 

A man whose soul brews storms and destroys,

Poor souls flock like minnows to his arms for miles.

Yet no child of man sees the omnipotent spire,

Nor hear His cries of voyeuristic disgust,

Only those of The Strange and The Marvelous give to

The benevolent magician their hope and their trust.

In this citadel of secret dwellers' sight,

he captivates his wards with magic no-one can transcend.

In the Tower of The Magic Man, O Child, 

Watch lights and colours dance to bring your sorrows to an end.

...and beyond






Like the love affair of the moon and the sun,

the stars and the earth...and then we awaken to our human birth,

feet on the ground, we walk in this dream,

grappling all for the question,

"what does this mean?"

something unseen,

to be pondered upon,

and apply to life's realities,

and bring in a new dawn.


1:07 pm 07/15/13 ©


inspired by dove