Well, it looks like I've majorly lapsed on the poem-a-day habit. Not to worry. I'm taking a short break to finish the Balkey story line. I'll compile and edit it into one big long poem and put it on the site later.
Poem-a-day should start back up after that.
“What,” the young, scarred and scabbed Scib said, “did Mr. Pin calm him – Bixson-” And Balkey closed the gap as soon as the word left the...
Tell him Coral has finally gone sour and the Pin is as crooked as we all thought,” fryed Balkey and eyed the straight and tall, the...
Bixson? Bixson! Son of Bix. Balkey hated the cursed moniker and no one dared utter it for fear of his fists. You’d be a goner if Balkey...