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The JesterThe Jester
The curtain draws, the stage is set,
For the travelling dancer, jester, he's yet,
Prances forth, with confidence full,
And begins his act, all else annulled.
Colours twisting in the air,
You cast a glance, but he's not there.
His limits of skill, the jester meets,
In spirals, back flips, turns and leaps.
He holds the crowd with a paralysing spell,
The children, too, their interest tells,
All are stunned at his daring tricks,
Not seen before, an exotic mix.
His hat adorned with many bells,
Of happy times the sweet sound tells,
A break from hunger, and tiring work,
To see this actor, from task they shirk.
'He has a gift!' is said by one
The cry taken up, none to shun,
The talented performer on his stage,
Gold coins thrown, they are his wage.
The dancer slows, and takes his bow,
A tale to be told, of the jester, long from now.
The Saddening Tale of the Small Brown DeskOnce upon a time, a great many moons ago,
I spoke to you of a tale that chilled to the bone.
An epic poem, a terrifying beast -
And an ode to the resting deceased.
It told of Salazar, and the knight who we vouch
To have slayed the world's first carnivorous couch.
But little did we know that it was just the beginning
Of the grand age of furniture's humble upbringing.
My new story starts like most stories do,
In a small humble setting that's quite close to you.
And our protagonist was not, as most will attest,
A hideous beast, but a small, brown desk.
It lived for a time in the Performing Arts Centre,
And not often seen by those who went there.
It watched and it waited and it dreamed with anxiety
To join the music classroom's high flying society.
The problem was that the desk was peculiar -
Its brown wooden top was quite unfamiliar.
Compared to the usual of stern, solid grey,
Our hero's frightful colour would give him away.
But one day there came such a hurried commotion
As was not uncom
The Epic Tale of the Man-Eating CouchHear ye, hear ye, to what I say,
For I will tell a tale from yesterday;
Regarding the terrors of a ferocious grouch -
The man-eating, child-gobbling, bone-crunching couch!
Once upon a time, in a place not so far away,
There lived a little couch that was brown and faded grey,
His name was Bob, and a kinder soul
Could not be found by any of us all.
Made of embroidered cushions, dusty and worn with use,
Turned to a resting place for piles of clothes and shoes,
It lay in a mansion's attic, sleeping its days away,
The unused couch had little to ever do or say.
The house was owned by an elderly lady,
Who in the past would rest on Bob gladly,
But as time passed by and she grew older,
She laid in bed until she mouldered.
The rats grew brave and chewed on Bob,
And defiled the house, that which he loved -
Until the old lady aged and died,
The poor little couch wept and cried.
For a time the house was peaceful,
Not even the rats did the slightest evil -
Until one morning, when upon the door
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Endorell-Taelos is very well known within the community for her selfless giving and gracious community spirit. Since joining DeviantART over seven years ago, Alicia has continued to make a positive impact on many deviants. Her helpful and thoughtful approach was one of her finest attributes when serving as a Community Volunteer, and this has continued throughout the many contests which Alicia provides on a regular basis. As we approach our Birthday celebrations, we can't... Read More