November…

You’ll see an uptick in posts here in the Kingdom in November as I have decided to join team Tiny Peppers and take part in the annual NanoPoblano festivities.

nanopoblano1

A post a day for the entire month?

Why not!  The Kingdom can handle it.  No problem.

I went through and found 30 pictures that I haven’t shared here before.  Depending on the day and which picture I’m inspired to post that day, you’ll be treated to either a bit of flash fiction that ties in with the photo or you might just luck out and get the real story behind it, why it is important to me, and why I decided to share it.  Or… you might just get a poem.  Because anything and everything is likely to happen here over the next 30 days.

So, sit back and enjoy the words.

Jesterly Challenge Month – November 28th

Sheena didn’t officially challenge me to write something based on this picture, but I felt compelled to, because it is too awesome not to contribute and pass it along.  So, here’s the picture, and my words follow, as always.

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Lego minifigures minifig jester queen pizza prince

“Where you going, Daddy?  Momma, where’s Daddy going?”

The Little Prince, as impatient with answers to his questions as he was with everything else at the moment, tugged on the Queen’s dress.  She bore it with the grace that comes with decades of royal training and smiled down at her son, with a raise of her eyebrows that indicated his answers would come if he would wait a moment longer.

The Jester, with a smile of his own, turned to face the Little Prince.  “Where do you think I’m going?”

The Little Prince was not amused.  Answering a question with another question did not get him what he wanted and he pursed his lips and furrowed his brow to show his disappointment.  With a vigorous shake of his head, he completed his refusal to reply.

The Jester bent down so he was level with his son and said, “I’m all dressed up.  Got my jingle hat on.  Got my sparkles on.  Got my bag of tricks.  Where do I go when I’m like this?”

The Little Prince smirked.  He knew the answer but was too stubborn to give it.  So, he shook his head again and crossed his arms in front of him.

With a roll of his eyes and an exaggerated, fake, sigh, the Jester rose, “I’m off to the blogosphere to spread silliness and joy.  But, don’t fret, I shall return.  I always do.”

“Momma, you going with Daddy?”

“No, I’m staying here to play with you.”

Relief flooded the child’s features and his infectious dimple bordered smile returned.  “Okay, bye Daddy.  Come on, Momma, let’s play!”

While the Little Prince eyed the nearest wall, considering its durableness and springiness to determine if it would be good to bounce off of, the Jester stepped closer to his wife.  “You know,” he whispered, “you are both welcome in the ‘sphere.”

“I know,” she whispered back.

“What do you know?”  The Little Prince was by her side again, earnestly hoping to meet her gaze.

“I also know,” the Queen continued, dropping the whisper, “that we are there with you always, even when we aren’t.”

“What are you talking about, Momma?”

She placed a hand on his shoulder but he ignored her request for patience.

“Momma?  Momma?  Momma!  What you talking about?”

The Jester smiled and bowed deeply to his Queen and then straightened as he spoke, “You are my loves, my muses, it’s true.  You are in everything I do.  Today, I’ll borrow the duality of his urgent clinging fearlessness and your unfaltering beauty.  I’ll take on the role of bard and pen a poem, constructed with your cadence and curves, and biting with jabs at the falseness of who we pretend to be.  Or, perhaps I’ll take on the role of minstrel and pen a song, with harmony and melody wondrous to hear, but with lyrics that frighten those who stray too near.”

The Little Prince was wide eyed and momentarily silenced, held in a trance by his father’s words, and the Queen smiled at her Jester and put her free hand on his shoulder.  “Whatever you are today, you will be great.”

The moment passed, “Bye, Daddy,” the Little Prince exclaimed while pulling the Queen the opposite direction.  “Come on, Momma, let’s go play.”

With a wink and a laugh, the Jester took his leave to wander, purposefully and distractedly, into the blogosphere.  He wasn’t sure who he would end up being that day, or what he would find, but he knew it would be good.  He knew it would be great.  The Queen was always right about those sorts of things.

A Jesterly Challenge to Challenge the Jester

IMG_20150808_1329330_rewind

The writer, the scribe, the teller of tales, the spinner of magic, the Belle in a box?  Perhaps.

Last week, in response to a post called Wandering Spirits, an idea occurred to me while responding to the very nice comment left by Aul, aka Dominic.  The basic premise is: can you stump me?

November is nearly upon us, and that means Nano Poblano madness.  I hadn’t thought it possible for me to post every day next month as part of those festivities, but… what if you all sent me prompts?  Maybe then, if I had enough time to write and schedule ahead of time, I could actually participate.

So…

The gauntlet has been thrown:  Is there anything I can’t write about?  Let’s find out.  In the comments leave a topic and a style that you either want me to tackle because you’d like to see what I come up with, or that you think I’ll struggle with and want to laugh at what I come up with.

Examples:  Magic / Poem, Politics / Haiku, Astrophysics / Flash Fiction, and so on and so forth.

Okay?

Comments left first will be answered first.  First comment will be answered on November 1st, Second on the 2nd, etc…

Have fun with it.  Leave me a challenge.  Leave me something silly.  Leave me whatever you fancy.  And I’ll turn it into a post, and hopefully we’ll all have a bit of fun.  Sound good?

Let’s begin.

truth as a verb

There’s a feeling I get, when I look to the west,
And my feet won’t set, despite a need for rest,
My goals aren’t met, though I pass each test,
And my heart’s regret, doesn’t do what’s best.

There’s a feeling I get, when I look to the west,
And I’ve cast every bet, despite the scaled crest,
My thoughts are fret, though I speak all jest,
And I’ve not failed yet, doesn’t truth clearest.

There’s a feeling I get, when the cadence is wrong,
And the words don’t fit, despite their sing-song,
My ambitions still sit, though the days grow long,
And my soul’s fire is lit, doesn’t mean I’ll get along.

ready your pikes

I’m just a jester,
Don’t you see?
I don’t dare fester,
We can agree,
On subjects weighty,
For too long,
That would be wrong.

I’m just a jester,
Are you not entertained?
I’m not a master,
But I juggle unrestrained,
Nothing gained,
As these chainsaws fall,
Let’s have a ball.

I’m just a jester,
If you like silly?
Flip-flopping faster,
In hypocrisy,
Than I claim to be,
For I’m a shadow,
Of words and crow.

I’m just a jester,
Despite what you think.
The only matter,
I’ll fully take to the brink,
Before I can sink,
Is one measured in likes.
Ready your pikes.