Spooky Pickle's Splendors

I wrote a couple poems some time ago after some holidays. For the first, I was inspired by the Friendsgiving I had with my first dnd group many moons ago. The second is one I wrote after a Thanksgiving we (my spouse and I) had at our house.

These aren’t heavy poems, so if you need something light to read after stuffing your face with turkey, give these a read! They’re a bit cheesy though, so if you are lactose-intolerant, please proceed with caution.

(The periods in-between stanzas are so that everything splits up like I want. Not all my poems have stanza-ed as I set them up for some reason. Might be an operator error thing.) This was originally an article I published on Medium earlier today. Since it's all my writing, I do what I want with it XD

A Gathering of Adventurers

(Originally published in Whimsy and Weirdos: Poetry for the Unique)

. At the tavern, lively conversation, food, drink, and loud laughter drown out the sorrows of the day, and it is here that friends celebrate having live to see another glorious day, The clinking and clanks of overflowing goblets signal another toast to another journey well done

.

Tis a gathering of adventurers, a gathering of friends, feasting together before a new quest begins

.

Before them lies yet another long and winding road full of goblins and trolls, and hardships galore, But if they believe in themselves, and each other, they’ll make it for sure

.

With heart, great heros, journey forth!

. For after this night of merrymaking and rest, the morning will call you to bring out your best, and put you to the hero’s test; to slay the beast; recover the treasure; save the city from supernatural disaster; restore the sceptre to the good wizard Doug; then find his best friend, a pug named Nuggs

.

All these tasks and so much more lie ahead of this gathering of adventurers who have graced the tavern with their presence tonight

.

May the winds bring them fortune, their rations nourish them well, and their travels be full of stories and song

At the End of the Holiday

After the hellos, the questions of “Where should I put this?”, of the smells of food still cooking, the sounds of still setting up while chatter slowly starts to grow

.

After the buffet style line of loading up plates, and the sounds of feasting, full of laughter and cheer,

After the dessert, after the goodbyes, and then the final farewells of the stragglers

You hear the shufflings of putting food away, find a decline in noise

.

For my current project, I've been doing art things for my Book Bazaar campaign on backerkit. My book is called Fairy Seasons (so, you can easily guess the inspo behind the mushies).

At first, 

they gave me roses 

everyday,

fresh, red, dewy, 

with the thorns removed

Each new bundle,

I’d hang them on my walls

and marveled at their petals,

at the beauty of us,

our love was in full bloom,

I never believed 

my roses could wilt

As time went on,

I received less roses,

their edges looked withered,

but the thorns 

were still always removed,

so what worries I had,

I buried

beneath the roots

of the rose bushes

I thanked  my lover with kisses,

asked them if they’d like

some help in the garden,

they’d always refuse

with a reassuring smile,

I ignored the twitch

at the corners,

figured it was a part

of their charm

Then one day, 

I finally felt

the prick of the thorns,

I pulled my hand away to see

that blood was drawn

I tried to think that they

were just having a bad day,

that it was going to be okay,

that there was something I could do

to make it all better

I started to feel

more and more thorns,

cutting into my hands,

scarring up my arms

But it would be all okay

They would always give me

a beautiful bundle

the next day.

I’d hold the roses

in my bandaged hands,

believing our love

was still there,

still in bloom

I couldn’t ignore those

thorns forever,

not when

my roses began to wilt,

when the garden started to rot

I knew I had to escape

before I started to rot,

before I became -

like my worries -

buried beneath

the roots 

of the rose bushes

I left behind

all my wilted roses

as I ran through the garden,

dodging all the

thorns you threw

I made it safely through

to the other side,

alive,

though not unscathed

I’ll never measure

affection by roses

ever again

I recently did an edit on two of my books. For one of them, I decided to add two new poems.

One poem, Wilted Roses (The above poem), was something I wrote and almost included in Through the Shards of My Heart. But Wilted Roses just wasn’t quite right yet. So, it was left out.

I did some edits and made a fine storied, painful poem out of it, featuring a character some may relate to. However, I cut out an element of the poem that I thought was essential. I didn’t want to leave it bleeding there, gasping for breath.

It was the other part of the story. The side the narrator didn’t tell.

So, I wrote a new poem to be a companion and curse to the first. This new one was called The Rose Garden.

A Book Bazaar project Highlight

I’m not gonna lie, I have a hard time not typing Space Wizard out in all caps because, well, how could one not get excited about a space wizard?

Like… SPACE WIZARD!!!

Where is the SPACE WIZARD?! We’re under heavy fire!

Turns out, they’ve been here the whole time! And doing a lot of cool stuff!

Space Wizard Science Fantasy is a queer SFF indie publishing company that started primarily to publish William C. Tracy’s books. From there, it’s grown into the wonderful thing that it is now!

SWSF is known to release high-quality, well crafted books. And with this campaign, they seek to release even more books — seven of them, in fact!

I know once I get through some of the things I’m reading now, I plan to check out their catalog. There’s so many cool books that appeal to my love of sci-fi, fantasy, and queer rep!

You could do the same right now. Or, better yet! You could back their current campaign!

A Book Bazaar Project Highlight

The Lucky Machine comes from an author who likes robots only a normal amount. Follow Inix, a Personal Bot, as she escapes her life of servitude and find refuge in the lower levels. She meets a cyborg named Sylvan and brings hope — and fashion — into his drab and unfortunate circumstances.

And oh! What’s this? A mysterious custom luxury build cyborg named Feint enters the scene. Just what would she be doing in the lower levels!?

I guess we’ll never know…

Unless?

Yes! Unless you check out The Lucky Machine’s wonderful campaign.

Aimee Cozza’s story about a plucky robot is a story of friendship and more. It’s set in the same world as The Warm Machine, but they can be read separately.

And, yes, I am also super excited about this project! I love robots and stories with them. There’s a lot of stories you can tell with robots.

Also, I could say a lot of wonderful things about Aimee. She’s been the wrangling all of us authors to whip The Book Bazaar into launch readiness. She’s kind, knowledgeable, and can tell it how it is without being mean — and that’s a pretty rare trait, honestly.

Ah, here we are, standing on the edge of oblivion. The skies stretch before us, its darkness beckoning us. Blooming colors of nebula ribbons through the swirling ink. The stars blink into a state of waking. They, the stars, extend their hands out, inviting us into night.

All we have to do is extend our own hands and leap.

A Book Bazaar Project Highlight

Ah, yes. BOOM Goes the Bride.

It’s got pulp. It’s got lesbians. It’s got spice. And lots of clones.

Listen, I usually do a big thing about what it’s about, but I really don’t think I need to. I’ve been excited about this project since I first heard about it. And so have a lot of other folks! We all yearn for the maybe / maybe not doomed lesbian, cyber-fantasy, dystopian-space, romance, ya know?

Valiant Evermech, the author, is very witty and hilarious. I absolutely know this book is going to be an awesome read. It’s going to be as humorous and it is (probably) going to be tragic — but only maybe (on the tragic part anyways).

If I could color you,

I would color you red

for the ever burning fire inside,

fueling your passions,

fueling your heart

with love to give,

inspiring the lives around you

to live, giving the blood

in their veins another reason to flow

If I could color you,

I would color you orange,

for your ability to help heal

the sick and broken hearted,

to be a listening ear,

a helping hand,

a friendly face that understands

If I could color you,

I would color you yellow

for the sunshine you carry

in your special bucket,

always happy to share it with others,

always happy to clear the rain away

on those dark and dreary days

If I could color you,

I would color you green

to bring out the brilliance

in the nature of your inner gardens,

always blooming with new ideas,

always growing in new directions

and into new fields of thought,

and for your love of our

mothering planet and it’s

creatures

If I could color you,

I would color you blue,

for the sorrows you shed,

and the sorrows you keep,

and for the harmony we’ve found

sailing the waters of

the cosmic oceans in our souls,

which lap against the same 

sandy shores of our shared humanity

If I could color you,

I would color you purple,

for the grand spirit you exude

in everything you do,

and for the richness of your soul,

the wealth of which you share

in the wisdom you give,

and the magic you create,

your pride is a beacon

for freedom that sadly,

not all can appreciate

If I could color you,

I could color you gray

for the place where

most things lay,

as few things are certain,

always somewhere inbetween,

trying to achieve balance and

understanding on this crazy planet,

and even though, to some, you remain

forgotten in the gray,

I will remember you,

I will speak your name

And if I could color you,

I would color you white,

for when the beauty of your light

hits the crystal prism,

it shines with all the colors of the spectrum,

all of which paints the blank canvas

of existence into something new,

into something that’s undeniably you

And if I could color you,

I would color you black,

for with your absence

there is nothing but a hole

left behind where you once stood

and there’s nothing I can do

but use these colors to fill that negative space