A forest that only the lost can find. An enchanted woodland, warm and alive. Its comfort — a mother’s womb. Nature heals all lost souls’ wounds. A place where only the broken can thrive.
Courtmacsherry woods, Cork, Ireland by Keith Kingston
You can find this poem, and the rest for this contest on WattPad: https://www.wattpad.com/story/306715590-moon-gate
A selfish merchant loved his coin more than his selfless wife. His mistake was made plain. A restless year after she died. He climbed a thousand staircases to seek the old mystic. “Please,” the merchant begged. “Take my gold coin! My silks! My diamonds!” “I wish to see her at the expense of my luxuries.” The seer’s cryptic question: “Your wife is all you wish to see?” “Your holiness, please! I have a fortune! Just name your price!” The merchant saw his wife again. Paid the Gods with his eyes.
You can find this poem, and the rest for this contest on WattPad: https://www.wattpad.com/story/306715590-moon-gate
Oh! My days! What was that blasted phrase! Oh, damnation! Dagnabbit incantation! Must’ve spilled a little grog on my magic tomes’ pages. Hell’s teeth! Curse my mispronounced sorcery. The result? An enchanted travesty. The hex, meant to plunder my rival of rest. Just a few days. Instead, a discombobulated rabbit, he became. A summons from the wizard’s guild. My punishment awaits.
Rachel's Floetry 