Personal Writings
Artwork by Jessica Galbreth


Upon this page are my personal writings; reflections of my thoughts, moods and emotions. The following poems were written in the years 2003 and 2004.

Our Beginning

Spreading out the quilt before the fireplace hearth.
The logs laid out, and beginning to glow.
Your arms wrap around me, oh how I smile.
Then I think of how you've traveled, so many a mile.

How we have spoken of this day that has come.
As the sun laid to rest, with the darkness as one.
Finding out about each other, heart and soul
Then of the future, new wonders to behold.

Easing down upon the quilt, daring not to let go.
Touching each other, and taking it slow.
Our eyes meeting, seeing love so new.
Shyness and fears being brushed aside.

We both don't know what our futures hold.
But we've taken this first step, one so bold.
Being together is what we both wanted.
So let us stay upon this journey, hopefully never parted.


Drifting downward in slow spirals.
Wind blowing between branches bare.
Sheer whiteness against the bark.
Clean crispness of frosty air.

I sit by the window, and watch in wonder.
At the power of the tiniest flake.
Each one perfect in its own beauty.
Never another shall it make.

I hear the tinkle of children's laughter.
Building forts for snowball fights.
But darkness comes to spoil the joy.
Houses outlined in little lights.

My breath upon the window.
A light fog it does make.
The home is warm.
But a chill doth make me shake.

Wrapping a quilt around my shoulders.
I wonder where you are this night.
Come home soon my dearest loved one.
So we may lay by the fire's light.

The Dragon Lover's Return

Dark wings opened wide against the summer sky.
The sun glinting off clawed tips.
A massive body longer than a city mile.
The ridged tale moving to and fro.

Its sheer inner lid shields against the wind?s might.
Wispy tufts trim the ears edge.
From high above all is yet within sight.
The senses delicate for such a beast.

Swooping down, he looks for her home.
Traveling far and long these many days.
A simple cottage of thatch and stone.
Surrounded by many flowers.

Wild violets, blue forget me nots, lavender too.
Colors of his scales reflected.
Tears she had shed, many not few.
Pining for his swift return.

Carefully landing, so as not to disturb.
For a surprise he would grant her.
His yearning for her he could not curb.
As he changed to his human form.

He rounded the corner of the fence.
Picking a flower to place in her hair
But she turned quickly, knowing his presence.
Their hearts beating as one.

Into his arms, she ran so willing.
Covering his face with kisses so sweet.
Enfolding her into himself, he as willing.
To his true love, he had returned home.

Down the Moonlit Path

Down the moonlit path I walk.
A gentle whisper in my ear does talk.
The grasses, my legs, they do caress.
But the darkness beyond, it does press.
I wonder why I am here in this place.
A firefly goes flitting across my face.

Many a year I have lived in this world.
Never understanding, since I was a little girl.
Why love is so distant, and hate so abounds.
The soul can be rent with such hurtful sounds.

Along the path I continue to walk.
Listening to the breeze, and its friendly talk.
In daylight, there are those that can be so mean.
I love the night, it hides me, and I cannot be seen.

Dream of Lost Love

The dreams come, I see your face,
But I cannot reach you.
Brambles grow high, blocking my path.
What is this accursed place?

There, a little way beyond, I see again.
A mere glimmer of sun upon your hair.
I run to you, but trip and fall.
A feeling of sadness I do send.

The ground is soft under my hand.
The leaves dry from the autumn sky.
Teardrops upon them I do shed.
For love lost from such a man.

Dream Time

Eyes wide shut, seeing all around.
Movement in shadows, colors abound.
Twisting, turning tunnels, where do they go?
Running for a door, feet going ever so slow.

In the kitchen, making a snack.
Feeling a touch upon the back.
Dropping a knife, but it does not fall.
Outside the window, someone calls.

Suddenly awake, lying in bed.
Wisps of the dream, riding in the head.
Walk to the kitchen, look at the floor.
See the knife there, and the open door.

Was it a dream, or was it real?
Mind is uneasy, the touch I did feel.
I heard the whisper, the words that were said.
Remnants of fear, still reside in my head.

Predators' Night

Darkness, time for mortal man to sleep.
But the creatures of the night awaken, hungry.
They wander through the forest and into the dales.
Perhaps a human has strayed, or stayed out too late.
A sound, a movement, could that be prey?
Tread lightly my children, do not give out warning.
Tis a lonely young woman who will not see the morning.
Go now, pounch, rip out her throat.
The warmth of the blood, so sweet on the muzzle.
Slow now my children, no need to guzzle.
The flesh so tender and easily eaten.
Feast my dear children, feast until light.
To our den we will retire,
and sleep peacefully away from the sun's fire.
Sleep my children, sleep.
The darkness will awaken us anew.

Fantasy Men

A rapier with steel so true.
A royal man whose blood is blue.
A hammer pounds his enemy thus.
Or pleases his woman with it's mightly thrusts.
A wizard whose magick comes out of his fingers.
Whose loving touch surely lingers.
Naked black eyed elf so handsome.
Steal you away and never ask for ransom.
These four men I love, it is true.
So much to live for, but the days are few.


Moss creeps along the remains of a shattered wall.
Tendrils of hunter green ivy cascade downwards.
Brushing away years of sunbaked earth.
The writings can be seen.

So long ago people dwelled here.
Farmers, traders, tellers of tales.
Never did the end come to mind.
Hearth and home solidly built.

Soldiers came, a mighty force of thousands.
Ballistas in tow, war horses with golden adornments.
Not a warning, not a demand was issued.
Only blood spillt, red rivers flowed.

Homes were burned, hearths torn asunder.
Walls of the town blasted in pieces.
All that remains, barely remembered.
Engraved words of welcome, of the town Carrunder.


My mind is the home of the nightmare steeds.
Each day I focus on daily life, strengthening the locks of the doors.
But each night, as I sleep, the steeds break open their stable doors.
The locks unable to hold again.

Their thunderous hooves pound behind the eyes that the sandman had closed.
They carry on their backs the riders of woe, despair, loneliness and horror.
Unthought of fears wisp around the riders heads as thorny wreaths.
Cold fingers grasp my heart, my lungs and squeeze tightly.

Each night when I go to sleep, I look at my love's face and pray to dream of him.
But the nightmare steeds overrun my wishes, my wants.
They know my fears and play upon them.
Yes, my mind is the home of the nightmare steeds.....perhaps, if I die, the stable doors will forever remain closed.

The Lady Delilah

There she lies in refined splendour.
There she lies, the Lady Delilah.
On a bed of satins and silks.
Gold coins and diamonds about her feet.
Born in the gutterhome of a French bar whore.
Born to become a grand courtesan.
Her mother sent her off to a fine woman's house.
There to be trained in the fine arts of love.
Displayed to royalty for all to enjoy.
For women and men, she was everyone's toy.
Now she owns her own fine house.
Brings in street girls to be trained and brought out.
There she lies in refined splendour.
There she lies, the Lady Delilah.

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