Special Eevee Contest (signed-up entries only

Entry 1.

Moonlit Dancers

Feel the shadows of clouds, the wind breezing by
Hear the sound of cicadas, filling the evening sky.
See the grass rustle, the fireflies dance.
With the stars as they begin to glimmer.
Join the symphony as it begins to sound.
The crickets begin with their sorrowful tone,
They add to the howls that come from coyote homes.
The moon soon provides the spotlight,
For the dancers who come to spend their nights,
Dancing away their cares as though in a whimsical dream.
When the sun rises again, they will all vanish so not to be seen.
Yet when night comes once again,
They’ll be back to dance in the moonlight again.

Entry 3

Romance of the -fly
Firefly, firefly, 
flutter on by, 
draw the attention 
of this simple butterfly. 
Your light 
is so beautiful, 
shining down on me, 
making me dull as one can see. 
My color is not bright, 
my wings are not strong, 
but my attraction to you 
floats like a song. 
Firefly, firefly, 
shine your light on me, 
let me watch you 
wherever you may be.

Entry 5

I liked cheese as a kid. I used to always put cheese on everything; my dad even used to joke that I’d put cheese in my ice cream if I could. To this day, I put 3 slices on my sandwich when I have the chance and still drizzle the molten gold on my broccoli with a smile on my face. I guess there are some things that never change.

The natural direction your hair likes to turn, how you study that makes it easiest to learn; that crinkle in your nose when you start to laugh, and how much you love your Backstreet Boys….autograph. Parts of us that are solid and firm; immovable and concrete, persistent, long-term. Etchings in our souls that nothing can erase, no matter how old we get or what problems we face.

But there are things in all of us that we wish to amend; sections of our body, heart, soul and mind. But these are mountains of our being that we wish to rend; using tools we have yet to know or to find. Given time and patience, we might make a dent; but we are so quick to judge the lack of progress we see. Ignored is the process and amount of effort spent, and suddenly a new person is impossible to be. We fear this new person and the work we need to be them, the slippery slope soon looks like a cliff. The change that we want, we now start to condemn; and the good and the better take back seat to “What if?” You go through life thinking that it all stays the same, ‘til you see an old photo and think of the person you became.

Every couple years
the person in the mirror
isn’t like before.

People like to say
that no one really changes
no less and no more;

but that’s just because
they look in the wrong places;
their goals, out of sync.

Everyone knows that
change is hard, but still we try.
Why is that, you think?

Because life it more than the small things and it’s more than the big things. It’s more than the clouds and it’s more than the mountains. More than being perfect or ‘not good enough.’ The heavens and the earth are just the framing for the real work of art: the horizon. Believing that we can be better; that there is always something to improve, not a vision of a perfect version, but an abstract idea of somewhere in between.

So we try for something new, but use all our old tricks. We keep moving on until there’s nothing left to fix. But there’ll always be more; more goals left to seize. But don’t forget how you’re grounded; with Backstreet Boys and with cheese.

Entry 7

Ascends a tale of shocking days lays a pokemon slippery at bay.
The bay being a swampy sight, serene and clean yet dirty in sight.
The Mossy trees were the Toxicroak play to the fight at night were most people fear.
A venoshock and Posion Jab that make the crowd cheers.
I don't know how to rhyme this song, Like a big booty bitch in a skimpy thong.
I totally forgot how to do the contest. If i'm close I dont mind, Ill play again another time.
\If this story has an end its that Toxicroak is bad ass. The End.

Entry 9

The Disappearance of Eleanor Grace

Sit down and let me tell you the tale;
The tale of Eleanor Grace
And how one day she vanished from her veranda
And the town of Keene’s Place.

It is only passed by mouth
Never is it written down
And many tell it differently;
The story of Eleanor Grace.

Some say she was bored in that palace
that manor up on the hill.
She saw the circus roll into town
and was enamored with their tricks and magic

So she took up the white face paint
and the big floppy shoes.
Didn’t say a word as she ran away
with the big canvas tents.

The romantics say she met a young man;
A worker that her father wouldn’t approve.
She traded her silks and satin
For the chance at true love.

The adventurers said she was in love
but only in love with the world.
So she picked up her backpack
And went off on a tour.

Some of the devout say something else;
she was involved in witchery and curse
Dabbled in the dark alone;
When God struck her down in one blow.

The town says many things about the disappearance of Eleanor Grace
Her father was distraught and her mother depressed
They mourned for their lonely daughter
Who had never left their sights.

What do I say of the girl?
Well I know the truth you see. I
know very well know what happened that night
That night I saw what happened to Miss Grace.

For you see she was practicing an art
A most magical talent.
The secret to it almost lost to many
but not to Eleanor Grace.

For you see Eleanor Grace had learned to fly.
To fly and never stop.
All you have to do is throw yourself at the ground
and hope you miss.