The difference between those that declare,
“You’re know nothings, but I’m wild and rare!”
And the wonder Eclare is she was wild and rare.

(And knew she knew nothing, so there!)

Yes, Eccles the Clare was exceedingly fair
In the ways that matter to bears.

Bugs in her belly, quills in her hair,
Wearing that see-all, owlish stare,
Making her very wary way where
Nightmares are too scared to dare.

Her roar had a waterfall flair.
Fox envied all Eck smelled on the air.
The woods slipped through her unaware
Of the blessed beast that called them lair.

But you know how you knew she was wild and rare?
When that child Clare smiled you felt rare and wild.

Drawn by Brandon.

(Read Part I here.)

Storm hugged him tight in her mad swirl,
She’s a vicious loving girl.
Kew’s will and hands were now unfurled,
Sent back to Mount Abirlakurled
Whose roots held up the whirling world.

Every piece of you is you
And every piece of Kew is Kew,
His hands and will from this old hill
Had made him strong and now fulfilled
Their promise to return renewed.

The Storm invites all in
To her push and pull and spin.
Slip your fear and go for wonder,
Head straight for her thunder.

Cages are easy.
It’s freedom that’s queasy.
The great greasy squeezing
Of cheesy sneezies
Is pleasingly teasy wheezy.

Sorry!
My freedom got the best of me!
But don’t worry,
I’ve got a spurious slurry
That’s curiously curing,
A stirring flurry of furry
And in a blurry hurry to bury
The scurrying jury.

That’s furiously fun,
Freedom in free fall –
But not too well done.

I’ll get better,
The bad’s all my fault,
But you can’t live much deader
Than life in a vault.

The skies were roaring gray
When Kew walked out his gate.
It took all his life up to that day,
Just barely short of, oh, too late,
But still he found his fate.

He stepped into the gracious Storm,
Stepped into her at last.
His business done and past
He finally reached his finest form,
She pulled him to pieces fast.

The Storm invites all in
To her push and pull and spin.
She’ll fight you fully as a friend,
I recommend the wind.

Illustration by MB who posts her art on Instagram.

Fear what goes bump in the night
Till you realize your big fright
Bumps because of poor eyesight.

Drawn by Guitarseer whose art can be found here.

Tink lived a life well structured.
No such thing as out of place.
None guessed that when it frac/tured
Shwas blessed by a saving grace.
The rest of ducks all in a row, row, row,
Somehow now knew twers times to go
Go go yer boat stently up the gream,
Merrily, verily, scarily, merrily,
Dreams be ut they seem.
Tink treamed large, they took/tuck her inn,
Deeep into ther sleepish den,
Across the coals of souls of them
That will not light and so go dim,
Truer nonsense has never been,
So Tinkalink lrnd nd brnd
An lit an likd er way kcaback ome,
Wint str-t true n ut ta roam.
If you shd see her fore you wake
Rember that yore wuts at stake
And f you wisshh your soul to kip
Slip a diply woken sleeep.

Huppy pokes his finger through a freckle,
Stuffs in sugar by the handful,
Butter, eggs, vanilla, flour,
Wiggles for a minute then waits an hour.
You can tell by fragrant smells,
But most by how he swells
That he’s finished your delicious dish –
He’ll bake you what you wish!

World’s only all natural oven!
Buns in! Folks love him!
Pumpkin muffins by the dozens!
Somethin’s always bubblin’.
He bakes while he sells
Whole cakes by the shelf
All made in himself!

So check your freckles,
Don’t know which one’s special.

Drawn by Guitarseer whose art can be found here.

The door was open
And we was hopin’
That maybe we might go out.

But we got lazy
And somewhat hazy
On what we was all about.

Then the door was shut,
Windows boarded up,
And we heard a “Stay there!” shout.

This could not stand!
We would demand
“Open up, you loopy lout!”

We went through the walls,
They had to fall,
It was our only route!

We were strong and bold
But now it’s cold
And we feel a little doubt.

Your place is nice
And might suffice…
So why do you say, “Stay out”?

Illustration by Mo.

Christmas elves are builders,
Creatives, makers, healers.
They hunt out needs and wants
And work as wish fulfillers.
But they’re not wheeler-dealers,
No, not big contract sealers.
They had deep need of a leader
For their gift giving cause.
So they built Santa Clause.

They made him like they would a toy
Enjoyed by any girl or boy.
The first ingredient employed?
Their very own creative joy.
Then all the jelly that they dared,
Whole heapfuls of polar bear hair,
Plus a piece of the sun they snared.

He was a giant to behold,
They gave him to the ice to hold
And called upon the quiet cold.

Cold carried her aurora torch
Into the shining crystal church
And lit old Santa with a touch.

Since then their building has been endless,
The elves now have their partner in this
Making of a Merry Christmas.