phoenovenal phantasies

fiercely fabricating
phoenomonal phantasies
filial and sillial fecundity
articulate angels elves

some would say wood elves
but more properly word elves
pulling prose from word shelves
which they fabrifactured themselves

some planned sum pantasied
phoenovenal menageries
growing like a trellised garden
mysteries, biographies, and romancies

solo word elves write by themselves
a few congregate online for a time
while others herd near bookshelves
and some cluster around canteened coffee

at jenny’s and denny’s they write
weaving words into the night
working in the wordshop ’til morning light
a tale of love a yarn of fright

a serendipitous story spinner
noshing words in lieu of dinner
dashing sprints against a timer
some official all an inner winner

from first word to epilogue
written lucently or in a fog
did that emcee kiss a frog
or have an epiphany spooning grog

all stories written are good
in a cloud or on pulped wood
novella and novel born as babies
each shall grow as they please

once committed to the page
some skin is shed as they age
some tales shared even all the rage
some stay private in papered cage

a mighty memoir or purest fiction
antagonists ache for fomenting friction
colloquialized or proper diction
flightful whimsy or deep conviction

every elves’ tale like castles of sand
every grain placed or muse dealt hand
drizzled damply by the sea
castles with the waves may flee

the carefully crafted chapters
may one day inspire actors
burning heat of fusion reactors
might fuel months of rabid redactors

whatever any elf has penned or pecked
poignantly plotted or what the hecked
whether five myriad words were checked
any effort deserves respect

and to this merry band of elves
when you wear your words
or simply be yourselves
ever be word nerds

when the bells ring on december eve
the mists dissipate a draft revealed
in awe assessing the wordage cleaved
the feverish pace bestows reprieve

then the other phase of fun begins
from half-baked tomes and official wins
will you keep them secret to yourselves
or push to publish onto the shelves

whatever the eventual fate
of words you love and those you hate
remember the workshop in which were weaved
phoenovenal phantasies

About Brad Werner

Technical Evangelist
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