Quote of the Weekend

Trees, machines, souls

all have some which are white as snow

or black as coal.

Trees, machines, souls,

each one of their hearts,

rotten and whole

the King knows.

Old Souls, Builders, and Scarecrows

will not to the dark heart of the Enslaved bow

but will arm the children

with bows and arrows.

Trees, Machines, and Souls,

Old Souls, Builders and Scarcrows

one and the same,

the neutral must change

no longer able to ignore

the Enslaver’s pain.

The good must stand

by the scarecrow and his brothers

The unborn, rejected by their parents must rise.

The Enslaved, and the coal black hearts of the Guardians

must be fought,

must be stopped.

The Saviours can save one,

but backed byΒ  Old Souls and Builders,

Scarecrows could stand in the breech for many.

Icicle Rain, by Abby Jones

(Poetry isn’t my strong point. I started off with a bit of a rhyming rhythm and it just changed into lines of prose. That’s pretty typical for me. This bit of whatever it is describes some of the classes in my Work-in-progress Icicle Rain. Icicle Rain is a young adult novel mixing elements of Steam Punk, western, and fairy tale. I hope to work with my cousin over at Oregon Curiosity Shop on some of the Steam Punk aspects. )


Quote of the Weekend


Torn from the sleeping safety of the womb

Where do you go?

Having lived not here,

Having lived not there,

But torn, unborn.

Not in heaven,

Not in hell,

But born on the other side of a Door.

Opening beyond our own,

Just beyond the edge of sight,

Beyond my reaching fingers.

Where do you go?

Where do you go to live?

Beyond the Doors.

– Unborn, by Abby Jones

(The opening poem to my Work-in-Progress Icicle Rain. I’m working on a parallel world where aborted children go to live out the lives that were taken from them. It’s a Steam Punk, Western Fairytale. The Oregon Curiosity Shop on EstyΒ  can give you a visual on the Steam Punk side of things.)