Posted by Arthur Petersen | Jun 5, 2019
Part Two: Spark of Life Nine months later, a beautiful baby girl increased their family by one. They named her Cloethel, in honor of Thrala’s favorite handmaiden whom she regretted bitterly to have forgotten in the tumultuous...
Read MorePosted by Arthur Petersen | Jun 5, 2019
Part One: Flame of Love Thrala hid silver coins in her gloves so that should one fall out she would pretend to spy it on the ground and tell her handmaiden to fetch it for her. She did not content herself with appearing rich....
Read MorePosted by Arthur Petersen | Jun 5, 2019
[inspired by the film Laugh, Clown, Laugh] She was tied to a stump by the river I raised her on no one’s behalf But the man who won her heart in the end Was the man compelled to laugh Go see the clown who’ll turn your frown...
Read MorePosted by Arthur Petersen | Jun 5, 2019
Her heart is a well. DeepProfoundUndepletable.But, you only dare to draw a small portion of what is below.For, the rope isTatteredForlornBreakable.Your dry throat itches as the winch turns and creaks so slow.The bucket draws out...
Read MorePosted by Arthur Petersen | Jun 5, 2019
If you follow my instructionsYou will utterly succeedBut if you disobeyYou will not be well received Follow every lineAnd every word inside this poem,And if a rhyme sounds weird,Don’t slow down, just keep a goin’ Poets aren’t...
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