yarns awoven

as the kiln cooled
from desert’s oven
where words had pooled
these words i’d drooled

where words had ruled
from desert’s oven
a draft demanding
to be retooled
came upon a coven
before becoming enyuled

beneath billion branched banyan
gathered gaggled companion
with books to cook
broiled or blacken
enwicken diction
in waxy nook
culling fiction
where e’er ye look

many a mysterious minion
hidden in this secret lair
creativity beyond compare
forgive me if i stop and stare
in one nook mixing potion
juan with a flask and flagon
another of covenous notion
with mister rickman smitten

beneath one branch
stood a stately penguin
chanting cambered verse
and an ocelot
needing to rehearse
danced upon piped organ
but then i spied
perhaps i cried
a band of flying monkeys

hidden here within this haven
toiled the bold and the craven
for thirty nychthemerae striven
to herd the words they’d written
stirring in a steamy cauldron
all the unredacted fraction
collected by their faction

collected they in castle mansion
no sight of creatures hooves acloven
merely miles of yarns awoven
the craftiest of the desert region
joined here within this legion
and entered in this coven
for a future wanting
to be written

About Brad Werner

Technical Evangelist
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