Stolen Away

 Slipping away in silence,
like sand from my open hand.
No more idle chatter.
No more wicked laughter.

Moving away from the tender.
A chill in the air.
Hearts no longer beating as one,
now there's no one there.

Where have you gone?
Something has stolen you.
Your attention has wandered,
Is there nothing we can do?

That summer night we stood on the pier,
I remember, the last time you were near.
Now winter has come, my heart is numb.
It's been so long since we were clear.

You're keeping busy, I see that.
You're staying happy, like a cat.
Each moment is better for you,
now you're no longer blue.

Remembering the best times,
reminds me...that was then,
and this is now.
Where do we go from here?

And now you're slipping away in silence,
like sand from my open hand.
No more future plans,
No more wicked laughter.
Goodbye, old friend,
goodbye.

 ©Ellen Pepper 2026

Now Will Never Come Again

 Now will never come again.
The demons have you in their thrall.
Your words are poisoned and dark.
Your attitude so harsh and judging.

Now will never come again.
And yet, here you are...struggling to harm.
You spew invective - to what end?
Who has damaged your soul?

Now will never come again.
Do you foresee a future worth living?
It sounds not, in the things you say.
Take time to self-reflect; design your being.

Now will never come again.
You share your bile with others.
You speak of hatred and doom.
Some fear your descent into madness.

Now will never come again.
Yes, you've faced betrayal,
and done the same, in turn.
Yes, you've been a monster.

Now will never come again.
Wallowing in rage will undo you.
Lashing out will burn you.
End this morose stance. Free yourself.

Now will never come again.
Turn around, turn around.
Look in the mirror.
Your face and future are grim.

Now will never come again.
Change your perspective.
Alter your mind.
Release the bitterness and be free.

Now will never come again.
Time is running out.
Save yourself.
Time is running out.
Now will never come again.

 ©Ellen Pepper 2026

Las luciérnagas...

 Veinte minutos después del atardecer.
 A mediados de julio.
Gatos y gatitos esparcidos por la terraza.
 Cien millones de luciérnagas explotando a la vista,
como pequeños fragmentos de magia en la noche.

La temperatura sigue siendo alta.
 Humedad al 91%.
El cielo es de terciopelo azul oscuro,
solo visible en verano.

La hierba aún verde con la luz que se desvanecía.
 Un gatito corre por la hierba,
 intentando atrapar...
Las luciérnagas.
Parpadeando.
Desvaneciéndose.
Parpadeando.
Desvaneciéndose.
 Parpadeando.
Los felinos observan fascinados.
Encantados.

Un humano está de pie en la ventana mirando para ver paz,
 tranquilidad, un mundo sin horrores, sin noticias del mundo.
 Solo vida vivida en felicidad.
 Esto es... dicha.

 ©Ellen Pepper 2026

Júbilo

Esta mañana llegó la noticia de que vuestros seres queridos han sido liberados. 
Que la cordura ha prevalecido. 
Que la gente simplemente se ha negado.

La gente dijo NO,
 lo suficientemente alto como para ser escuchado
 en todo el mundo.
 No a los abusos de fascistas, estafadores, conspiradores y mentirosos.

Es hora de celebrar, de celebrar.
 Es hora de alegrarse en solidaridad. 
Es hora de sonreír de nuevo al vecino que no será secuestrado por la noche.

La paz no llegará pronto, seguro, pero... 
Las cosas demolidas pueden reconstruirse.
 Las vidas dañadas pueden sanarse. 
Los criminales pueden ser cancelados. Se hará justicia.

Es hora de la sanidad, las tierras públicas,
 el control de la contaminación,
 la educación, el cuidado infantil,
 el transporte; todo esto se puede solucionar, rápidamente.

Esta mañana llegó la noticia,
 que la verdad y la integridad importan.
 Que habrá resistencia contra la tiranía existente.
 La noticia llegó esta mañana... Que la alegría está cerca.

©Ellen Pepper 2026

JUBILATION

 The word came in this morning
that your loved ones have been freed.
That sanity has prevailed.
That the people have simply refused.

The people said NO!, loud enough
 to be heard around the world.
No to abuse at the hands of fascists,
grifters, schemers and liars.

It's time to toss the confetti.
Time to rejoice in solidarity.
Time to smile again
at the neighbour
who won't be stolen in the night.

Peace won't come quickly, for sure, but -
the demolished things can be rebuilt.
Lives damaged can be healed.
Criminals can be cancelled.
Justice will be served.

It's time for health care, public lands,
pollution control, education,
child care, transportation -
all these to be remedied, pronto.

The word came this morning,
that truth and integrity matter.
That there'll be push back
against the extant tyranny.

The word came this morning
that jubilation is at hand.

©Ellen Pepper 2026

Avatar of Golden Light

 I spoke with an angel today.
An Avatar of the Golden Light.
I turned a corner and he walked toward me.
I moved closer. He held out his hand.
Like children, we glowed at each other.

We are Souls from the Source

His aura shimmered with eager freshness
as if Life hadn't  damaged him - though he was old.
My Spirit felt light and joyful. His eyes were shining.

We are Souls from the Source

We greeted each other 
with agape, as well as philia.
Who are we, each to the other?
We are souls from the Source.

The morning sunlight was like us -
radiating pure exhilaration.
The grass shimmering with fairy dust.
The very air sparkling like crystal.

I spoke with an angel today.
An Avatar of the Golden Light.
I turned a corner and he walked toward me.
I moved closer. He held out his hand.
 Like children, we glowed at each other.

We are Souls from the Source

©Ellen Pepper 2026

Witching Hour

 A baby was born at the witching hour.
Three in the morning;
a storm raging outside.
The baby was breech in her mother.
The midwife pulled her into the world.

Mother and child survived the birthing.
Named Morgana Raven,
the child was born a witch.
Her fate was  determined by her lineage.

A witch born of a witch
who, in turn, was born of a witch,
down the generations...
 the witches were born.

Morgana was a wild child.
She learned the ways of Nature,
while living in the forests of the
legendary land of  Arcadia.

There was a time when she fell into love.
A dashing young man saw her bathing in a stream.
Her long ebony hair shimmered - his heart was taken.
Little did they know, their love was fated.

His name was Hel-med, cursed at birth.
Doomed to die before his time,
but only when he spurned his clan.
Morgana was to be his only love.

Hel-med's family despised Morgana.
She was a feral witch, they said.
Not fit to breed with their line.
Hel-med was forced to choose.

He chose the love of his woman.
He left his clan behind to wed her.
When their vows were sealed in the Book of Fate.
Hel-med fell to the ground,
 dead.

Morgana could not rouse him from his death.
She mourned him til her final breath.
Her witchery was given to help others.
Morgana Raven could not aid her own self.

A witch born of a witch
who, in turn, was born of a witch,
down the generations...
 the witches were born.

She died as a crone,
at the witching hour.
Born at that time, died at that time,
The circle of life has no end.

©Ellen Pepper 2026

Oh, Happy Birthday to You

 Oh hello! This is your song.
It's your birthday and time for good cheer.
Your smallest friends, Fred Maple and Stormy,
have asked me to say that you are their dear.

Oh happy birthday to you.
What, on your birthday, did you do?
Did you work for the man,
Did you play kick the can?
What, on your birthday did you do?

What time did you wake on this  special day?
How far did you travel; what did you say?
Did anyone ask, "How much will you pay?"
Or did you simply just walk away?

Oh happy birthday to you.
What, on your birthday, did you do?
Did you work for the man,
Did you play kick the can?.
What, on your birthday did you do?

You must make plans for the coming year.
You should find a way to swallow a fear
that's been in the way of having good cheer.
Maybe someone will be great and buy you a beer.

I hope you enjoy this little rhyme
and the song gives you bliss.
I'd have made it more better, if I had more time...

Oh happy birthday to you.
What, on your birthday, did you do?
Did you work for the man,
Did you play kick the can?
What, on your birthday did you do?

©Ellen Pepper 2026

So Tired

I’m tired.
So tired.
Very, very tired.

Day after day,
relentlessly,
The “news” comes out.
It’s always “BREAKING!”

It’s always another atrocity...
savage cruelty,
lawlessness,
soul-crushing squalor,
addiction to torturing the innocents.

And those in high places,
those mighty,
those powerful...
are fattening on misery.

The cost of their social events -
parties, weddings, cocktails and meetings -
could pay for decent housing and food
for everyone.
Everyone.
With plenty left over for the rich.

There’d be no dire poverty,
no death by lack of medical care,
no starving, ailing children.
The only kids valued are those they desire,
 then toss away like trash.

They’re callous and cruel.
They’re selfish, and tools of commerce.
They lack conscience and care.
Their souls have been put on ice,
they'll be  spending eternity in hellfire
and damnation.

Meanwhile,
I’m tired.
Every decent person is tired.
We’re flagging.
The daily onslaught against  goodness
makes ‘just surviving’ a struggle
with no  relief in sight.

We need a time out
but can’t afford to lose focus -
not for even a moment.
Lives will end unless we  pay attention
and
RESIST.

©Ellen Pepper 2026

When the Show Must Go On

We are entertainers.
Performers, actors, players, and liars;
stars of our own stage and screen.
The show must go on.

We wear our costumes.
Our hair and makeup, just so.
We hit our marks and
speak our lines.

The show must go on.

The lights are bright and glaring.
They give off the odor of heat.
The stage is what we make of it -
solid wood or flimsy balsa.

The show must go on.

We hope fellow actors can
remember their lines and
make their entrance and exit
in proper time.

We dread any techies missing  their cues -
losing a spotlight or botching the music.
Or even a fixture falling onstage with a crash.
The show must go on.

And what if someone drops dead
during a scene?
It happens, at times.
Should the show go on?

And what if a scene causes brawling in the crowd,
and some are taken outside to calm down?
It happens, at times.
The show must go on.

At the end of the show, we strip off the fake.
We greet the audience who want a stake
in knowing a thespian of their own.
They don’t see our real person within.

We are entertainers.
Performers, actors, players, and liars;
stars of our own stage and screen.
The show must go on.
The show will always go on.

 ©Ellen Pepper 2026

Come Away

 The golden leaves are dry and rustling on the trees.
Soon they'll drop and winter will come.
Will I remember your name as seasons change?
Will you recall what happened that night?

Come away with me to the forest at dusk.
The ground will be a spongy delight,
with flora and fauna restoring its life.
Oh! Remember to hone your carving knife.

Come away with me, I have a plan.
Come away with me, life will be sweet.
We'll find a way to alter the past.
We'll find the way to make love last.

Come away with me into the depths
of our fevered minds.
Let's explore the darkness of the heart.
Now's the time to not be blind.

We'll drive away the demons
that are festering in your soul.
We need to understand,
why they love you so.

Come away with me, if you're my man.
Come away with me, life is richly began.
We'll find a way to forget the past.
We'll find the way to have a blast.

The golden leaves are dry and rustling on the trees.
Soon they'll drop and winter will come.
Will you remember my name as seasons change?
Will you recall what happened that night?

©Ellen Pepper 2026

Oh, Gloria. Oh, Gloria.

 If you're sleeping when dawn draws near.
No one will know your hope and fear.
You'll miss the breaking of the light.
You never hear the  lonesome sound
 of a train at night.

Oh, Gloria, where have you gone?
Are you staying forever in the Land of Nod?
Your hands are folded, your face serene;
The sheet twisted 'round your sleeping bod.

I saw the mission you accomplished.
I saw the end of your Reign of Error.
I saw the floors you polished...
with only the blood of the bearer.

Oh, Gloria, what have you done?
The truth will be told before the sun
rises in the west after the shift -
the equator will move, despair will be swift.

They noted your fatal charm.
They noted your lack of fear.
They watched you with deep alarm.
They crept away when you drew near.

Oh, Gloria, we worry about you.
Sleeping so long - there's so much to do.
Spells must be cast before the full moon.
Move now or the crew will be blue.

Everyone knows what you came here for.
Nobody's helping, you know this for sure.
Yesterday's news has you lost for time.
Move quickly or be lost to the slime.

Oh, Gloria, so sorry to wake you.
What was I thinking? Maybe to break you?
Oh, Gloria, I'm sad now to think,
that you were brought to the brink.

Oh, Gloria. Oh, Gloria.

 

 ©Ellen Pepper 2026

Misplayed Spell

 "The outcome is doubtful." he said to the supplicant.
"But is it to be dreadful?" He was asked in turn.
"It's hard to say without having all the elements to hand,
but I'll know a week tomorrow - then you can return.

"Should I burn an offering?" He was asked.
"There's no need. What gave that notion?"
"It's just that I want the spell to work, Magister."
"You came to me for a reason, it needs but a potion."

The mists of Avalon were swirling round their ankles
 as they waded through the fen.
Dragonflies, beetles, muskrats and shrews
avoided the chattering men.

Arriving at the magic-made place,
the two quaffed fine black tea from India,
and shared scones from his butter case.
They spoke of nonsense and everlasting trivia.

Time passed, as it often does.
Anon the spell material appeared.
After a week had gone by, 
The Magister set to create the weird.

The incantation took some time,
as the wizard's strength was flagging.
The farmer's request was profound -
the sorcery begat soul dragging.

His invocation succeeded in
casting a solid glamour.
From the ashes of the sacrifice,
came a talisman for amour. 

"Keep this about your person, good sir,
when near the object of your affection.
She'll never resist your love and attention.
You'll find your satisfaction."

" Magister. I'm most grateful, but...
I wanted a milk spell on my cow's behalf -
 whose tired teats have dried, despite
the birth of her lovely brown calf."

"Oh, my dear sir - how unfortunate.
I understand your need now.
Tthere's nought to be done.
 but to give that poor cow
the benefit of this spell,
and hope that all will be well."

After a fortnight had passed,
the farmer came with a  jug of finest cream.
"Thank you, Magister! Daisy's milk came fast -
 there's plenty for the calf...it's like a dream!"

And that, children, is how a love spell ended well.
The moral of the story is thus and so, now:
Before casting a spell, be sure you can tell...
if the supplicant  wants a mate...
or to heal a cow.

©Ellen Pepper 2026

All Hallows' Eve

 Better safe than sorry.
Don't let the boogeyman get inside.
It's All Hallows Eve
 and tiny monsters will abide.

The frightening spectres are all afoot,
Goblins, ghouls, ghosts and goth.
All the kids are dressed to plunder the candy bins.
The booty will be hid in deep cloth.

(Be afraid. Be very afraid.)

Dogs are barking, excited by commotion.
Drivers slow down for the parade.
There's something eerie at the periphery -
is that a skulking monster in the shade?

Hairy legs and back. Shiny black leather.
Flashing red eyes, a grim chin.
Saliva spilling from its gob.
Danger, children! Danger hides within.

(Be afraid. Be very afraid.)

The wind picks up;
leaves are hustling across the lawns.
Children scatter in all directions,
as the monster approaches on pounding paws.

The grown ones snatch up their littles.
The youngest mewling in fear.
Doors are slammed one by one
 as the creature slinkers near.

(Be afraid. Be very afraid.)

The street rapidly empties of humans.
The wild creatures appear from hiding places.
It's their time now.
All Hallows Eve - monsters have grim faces.

The haunting begins.
(Be afraid. Be very afraid.)
(Be afraid. Be very afraid.)

©Ellen Pepper 2026

The Mirror as Witness

 What exists in the mirror ...
A world seen in reverse.
Left is right and right is left.
Wrong is right, left is correct.

(Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the guiltiest of all?)

The people living in the mirror -
they can't see you, can they?
They can't see themselves.
They're trapped behind glass.

What happens when you peer into it,
and a different world appears?
The furnishings and aura of past lives...
Standing as witness to history.

(Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's that walking down the hall?)

Who is that strange man with side whiskers?
The fine lady in a muslin gown.
That farmer at the window behind them,
bearing a basket of fresh eggs.

A different view shows a couple,
passionately intertwined on an ornate bed -
windows draped against a stormy night.
The mirror sees all, yet speaks not.

(Mirror, mirror near the bed, name those people on the bed.)

When watching the looking glass, 
what it's seen before cannot be seen without magic.
Scrying is called to account, but...
some things should not be seen again.

The mirror saw a life taken before its time.
It witnessed the assassin in the dark.
Reflecting is its only task, reporting is not.
If only that mirror could speak.

(Mirror, mirror on the wall, watched a body take a fall.)
If it happened in a mirror, did it happen at all?

©Ellen Pepper 2026