NaPoWriMo - April 9th

April is National Poetry Writing Month. In celebration of poets everywhere, and to encourage those who are just embarking on their literary journey, I will be posting poetry (not mine) each day for the month of April. Please take a look and enjoy this special art.

Charles Larch

 Charles Larch is a nom de plume for the author of Euneria. He is also known as Living Challenged (LC) on Authonomy. 

Euneria is a series book collection of flash fantasy stories woven together with a singular theme and shared characters. Written primarily for his son for his enjoyment, each story has been edited and approved by him. In the first of the series, Euneria - The Tales of Gibbers, Pips and Miu ...

... meet Pips, the brave warrior goblin and his beloved guardian mount, Kerthaan.

... tag along with Gibbers, a kobold on a mission to become the first member of his tribe to own a dragon.

... become enchanted with Miu, the tiny dragon who loves shiny baubles and a little girl called Emeline.

Watch as their lives unfold before you and they share the world of Euneria, a world filled with laughter, beauty and danger.

My Lovely Nuts 

I been lugging these nuts around all day long.
I jangle when I walk, so I wrote a little song.
I got nuts in my pants, as many as I please.
I got nuts in my pants that reach to my knees.
If you try to touch my nuts, you will get a little slap.
After playing with my nuts all day I need a little nap.
I got nuts in the zombie shelter and nuts on the plane.
I like to talk about my nuts. I know that sounds insane.
If you happen to find my nuts on the table or the floor,
Please do not disturb them. I am busy getting more.
And now I must be off to catch an early flight.
Cuz, I'm being chased by Fbi and those crazy guys in white.

In the Dark

She slept. She woke.
She knew not why.
Some thing unseen released a sigh.

A shadow loomed.
She dared not move.
Only illusion light would prove.

An illusion not.
She couldn't scream.
Was not invention. Was not a dream.

A shadow stealthy
Nearer drew.
She knew not what. She knew not who.

The shadow laid
A sharpened claw
Upon her skin so bare and raw.

Looming closer
Near to breast.
A forceful weight upon her chest.

Its countenance,
At last discerned,
In memory would 'er be burned.

Ripping fangs
And crimson eyes
So near her throat fear must arise.

Intentions clear.
Its victim flay.
There be no wakening today.