Bessy’s Day

Today was going to be the best day in the world. I was turning 18. I was having a ball in my honor. I was to finally meet my true love. The Prince. We were going to marry at midnight as is custom with my people.

I stood before the mirror, blonde curls atop my head, cascading in ringlets beneath the coronet. Dark brown eyes made browner by the glittering eye shadow and under eye liner. I was beautiful. The best looking Princess all around.

My gown was resplendent. A gossamer wrapping of lace and light silk fabric. Twined white and blue. The train of it was ten feet long and I had twelve ladies in waiting to carry it for me. Empire waist it flared over my hips and fell to the floor. Tiny hooves peeked out. I was ready.

We waited in the ballroom. All around the fine folk of our kingdom laughed and drank. Here to celebrate the new life that was to beget at midnight. As husband and wife we will climb the stairs into our bedchamber and create an heir for the kingdom. I knew little of what was to come but my ladies in waiting all assured me it would be pleasurable.

At ten of midnight, the gong did sound. My Prince had finally arrived. I was ecstatic. We drew the veil over my face and waited. And waited. And waited. I was beginning to sweat beneath my veil. I could feel my makeup beginning to run and hoped that he would not notice.

At midnight the door swung open. The footman appeared at the top of the hundred stairs. Next to him, so tiny I could not really see was a…….a thing?

Short and squat. His suit of Princely clothing strained to encompass the wide waist. His hair was a shock of brilliant orange. His eyes gleamed a vivid green. He began his descent down the stairs, hopping down one by one.

My mouth fell open. I could not believe that this was the Prince my parents had chosen. What was his pedigree? Had they really followed through and checked it thoroughly. What could they possibly be thinking.

Rotund he waddled towards me a grin dancing on his lips.

‘Good evening My Bovine Beauty, would you care to dance?’

Picture via http://marshallarisman.com The Master and the Dimwitted Frog

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Thought #4

We are all imperfect. Striving for perfection is an unacceptable practice for it destroys the confidence, the self-worth of the individual. I know that it did for me.

Our imperfections are what make us the most beautiful. 

Walking down Main St.

Today after walking T to school I chose to walk home down Main Street and than Brandt Street. These are the pictures that caught my eye. The picture of the all glass building and the feed factory are 2 blocks apart from one another. Only in my city.

The empty lot I swear that there use to be something there I just cannot remember what.

I went walking

I went for a walk after walking T to school this morning. It was crisp and quiet. As I walked along listening to the silence I realized that I was looking forward and upward. I have spent so long looking at the ground I forget about the breathtaking beauty. I met the guy up top on his walk. The rest spoke to me.

Heartless Love

Nuanced
the words we speak
the dance we flow through
shades of emotions
that tumble about.
Delicate
this thread that binds
steel wrapped in velvet
so that the chains
chafe not our skin.
Afraid
unwilling to surrender
these contested wills
bruised eyes flashing
as once more we attack.
Vicious
words that sting
barbs that hook and tear
flesh torn asunder
wounds never stitched
left gaping
breathless gasps
as we lay panting.
Thieves of love
honor and faith
a warped notion of pleasure
pain that sticks
never ending
a cycle of disrepute.
©Jay-lyn Doerksen
Feb. 17/18

Do not see

When I look in the mirror

I do not see

the beauty

that others find in me.

When they wax eloquently

to explain the way my smile brightens

and my eyes sparkle with laughter;

all I can see are over large teeth

and the wrinkles that cover my face.

I do not see the wonder and joy

I cannot comprehend the whys of it all.

I do not know what draws them within

and keeps them close to my bones.

I stare deeply into the mirror

searching,

seeking,

still unable to see

why they are called to me.

©Jay-lyn Doerksen

September 26/17