Not just poetry. Here is a play for you too! (ooh, I'm impressed Roe!)

BASKETS
Act 1, scene 1

setting: Entrance and dining hall at the Tambre Inn

ANN IS SWEEPING VIGOUROUSLY, TIDYING UP. WILLIAM ENTERS AND STARTS UPON SEEING HER. HE APPROACHES FROM BEHIND, THEN CHANGES HIS MIND AND HEADS OFF STAGE. SECONDS LATER HE REAPPEARS, MORE DETERMINDED. ANN DOES NOT NOTICE HIM AT ALL. 

William: My love, I -
ANN SHRIEKS AS HE TAKES HER BY SURPRISE. THEY STARE AT EACH OTHER. 
William: Sorry, wrong sister.

FROM A BACK ENTRANCE MARI ENTERS, DRESSED IN A LONG CLOAK, WITH HER HEAD COVERED. SHE ATTEMPTS TO SNEAK TO THE FRONT DOOR UNSEEN.

Mari, aside: Stay calm. He hasn't seen me yet.
Ann: Oh Mari dear, there you are! Have you only just woken up?
William: Mari!
Mari: Oh, perhaps. Have you finished all the washing up then?
Ann: Nearly I-
Mari: Good, then you don't need my help. William, release my hand at once.
William: of course, I only . . .
Mari: Yes?
William: Ah, um, just going out? Are you? Here, let the door for you. Might I escort you this morning, somewhere.
Mari: No thank you. I shall be fine.

MARI EXITS

Ann: Don't forget Auntie Wren will be here to- day.
William: Now, she's gone. Why can't I say something to her? Why do I stutter, my words fail me. A fine speech maker I'm not, but a simple 'hello Mari, how are you? Good Morning. You look lovely as day, today.
Ann: Thank you.
William: Oh, I don't mean you Ann. You're a nice girl. You're alright, but your sister. Mari is . . .
Ann: oh brother.
William: An Angel. Truly descendant upon this earth. Glorious to behold. None can - dare compare to the splendor that is ...
Ann, reciting along with him and finishes for him: Glorious to behold.  None can - dare compare to the splendor that is Mari Tambre.


(Ah, but sadly, its unfinished. . . )
(What a shame. I really liked where it was going too.)
(Thank you Lackscroft.)
(Perhaps I should finish it for you?)
(IF you think you can. . . )


image credit goes to...

Curses, another poem (someone must have taken over this blog) (Wasn't me, how about you Roe?)

The Cursemaker Returns

The cursemaker is coming.
The cursemaker is coming.
It's not enough to say it once.
Three times and you know it to be true.
The cursemaker is coming.

She'll be there giving birth to salamandar toads.
She withers birds with her eyes, and keeps them in a cage.
Her nettle-wine and fish-eye stew smell like sour sweat.
Don't let her touch you.
Don't get too close.
She'd try to snatch you and catch you and eat you.

The cursemaker is coming. 
Quickly, hold your breath.
The air stinks like ink. 
You know it to be true.
The cursemaker is coming.

Stones crumble at her feet, the water boils, the fishes bleed,
she has a grip to hold you down like a spider's web of iron.
She doesn't burn. She doesn't drown. She must be quite the -
Don't say it.
Don't even whisper it.
She'll know you did. She'll pin you down to stitch your lips.

The cursemaker is coming.