Quo vadis?

 Quo vadis?
Where are you going?
Are you climbing a pine-treed mountain path,
searching for the God of your youth?

Are you walking on a busy city street,
where you heed the wisdom of the elder
 who lives outside the bakery?

Maybe you're strolling the brazenly green lawn
where the idle rich live.

Quo vadis, my friend? Quo?

I see you standing at the precipice of
understanding grace and favor -
grace being the unearned favor of your God.

You're preparing to move into a new dimension.
You'll tackle new challenges.
You'll stride, head held high,
while navigating changed standards.

 Quo vadis, my friend? Quo?

Can you sense the alteration of the air?
This is unfamiliar, yet welcoming.
You've devised a plan for the rest of your life.
Now, where will it take you?

Is there a Plan B lest the direction be askew?
Are you ready for the heady change?
Choosing the high road or low will matter.
Be certain of your intentions.

You've waited all your life for this moment.
Living in eternal readiness will benefit you now.
Every step you take brings you closer.
Your happiest dreams will come true.

Quo vadis, my friend? Quo?
Quo vadis, my friend?

 ©Ellen Pepper 2026

WAITING, ALWAYS

 I've spent my lifetime waiting.
Waiting to be born.
Waiting to learn to read.
Waiting to go to school.

Waiting for school days to end.
Waiting for summer vacation.
Waiting to graduate.
Waiting for a job offer.

Waiting for friends to come and go.
Waiting for friend's babies to be born.
Waiting while friends abandon spouses.

Waiting to pick up the pieces of broken hearts.

Waiting for audition results.
Waiting to move to Manhattan.
Waiting to walk onstage.
Waiting for my cue to skidoo.

Waiting for trains, planes, buses and cars.
Waiting to pass through airport security.
Waiting for a ride while hitch-hiking out west.
Waiting to escape a serial killer.

Waiting to move to new homes.
Waiting for an unwanted wedding.
Waiting for the expected divorce decree.
Waiting for freedom after bondage.

Waiting for letters that never came.
Waiting to be finally understood.
Waiting to tell the true story of a life.
Waiting to give a damn.

Waiting in doctor's offices.
Waiting on government action.
Waiting for payments to arrive.
Waiting for parcel delivery.

Waiting for resolution of an untenable situation.
Waiting for humanity to grow up.
Waiting for loving kindness to return.

Always waiting.
Interminable waiting. A lifetime of waiting.
And one day, waiting for a merciful death.
Waiting for a peaceful termination.

Waiting, always waiting.

 ©Ellen Pepper 2026

In Days of Yore

 Once upon a time, in days of yore,
the troubador, Eldric Verseborn, from Stratford on Avon,
 rode to the court of the Indigo King, Elwyn the Blue.
He oft ventured there for the fine victuals and wine.

The ladies enjoyed his company,
 and the knights asked favors.
The favor most oft sought for was songs of courtly love and devotion.

Late, one snowy night, Sir Magnus Trueblade
came to the bard to beg a song to be written
 with which to woo Fair Eleanor, known as Skywatcher.

He held little hope that she'd look upon him with favor,
since he wasn't as nobly born as other knights.
No matter, though, because his ardor for her
was giving him nights bereft of sleep and
filled with the torture of relentless concupiscence.

The Troubadour Eldric readily agreed and
 sat with quill and parchment -
to bring to song the words of love,
while playing down the knight's lust.

He idealized her beauty and wit,
not saying much of her sharp tongue.
He claimed that Magnus felt noble devotion,
while putting aside his wild libido.

He mentioned that the Lady, being high born,
would spurn the love of Sir Magnus.
This was only to be expected.
However, nobody knew Eleanor's heart
 but the lady, herself.

Come the evening of the Feast of Christmas,
Eldric sat in the Great Hall with the court and King in attendance.
Came the moment he'd sing the song of Magnus,
He pointedly glanced at the Lady Eleanor who sat surrounded by eager suitors.

Magnus quaffed a goblet of wine and steeled himself for her reaction.
Eldric announced that the song was meant for the lady.
He mentioned Magnus.
A hush descended on the hall as eye met eye in shocked surprise -
this love was beyond the pale.

The song was lovely and calming.
It showed deep yearning, Eternal love was vowed.
The longing was sincere. The future promise was pled.
Eleanor glanced at Magnus with changed expression.

What no one knew is that Eleanor had ever pined for Magnus.
She craved his warmth and kindness.
She admired his strength and wisdom.
She felt safe in his presence.

Even though Eleanor and Magnus were not expected to wed,
they did that on the first day of Spring.
All were charmed by their loving dedication.
They may have lived happily ever after. 
 

©Ellen Pepper 2026

Savage Spirits

 We are savages to each other.
We're not trusted to keep hearts safe.
Though deep soul love lies within,
we lacerate with our words when we hurt.

We're ferocious, yet unmoved. 
We're dangerous - even terrifying.

A spirit is forged in fire.
The beast unleashed will
release the rage.
There'll be fire in the belly and
the cage bars will be bashed down.

Untamed love is a battlefield.
A fated call to arms.
The choice is between giving in 
or giving up.
What will it be, in the end?

Fight with the spirit of abandon.
Push back the desire to touch the past.
This battle can never be won without casualties.
Grapple with and defeat the savage within.

It's time to drop the dragging weight -
it's not your burden to bear.
Something great never happened,
'cause it was seen as simply a dare.

Make a choice.
Release the rage.
Nothing lasts forever.

©Ellen Pepper 2026

The Truth

 You weren't being honest.
I knew it. I felt it.
You prevaricated.
You faked it. You weren't real.

I found the truth,
I found your secret message.
When shown the proof,
You went underground.

Your casual laughter told the truth.
Your deflection didn't answer the question.
You hid your amusement up your sleeve.
I saw it all, even in the dark.

I see you clearly now.
I see the past, as well.
Nothing means nothing, really.
There's deep meaning found in lies.

Your contempt was obvious.
Your disrespect so blatant.
Why you felt entitled to hurt me,
I'll never know.

It was my fault to trust you.
My choice to be vulnerable.
I thought you were safe harbor.
Instead you were the iceberg - I, the Titanic.

When hope becomes delusion,
silence is easier than honesty. 
The current situation ain't the final destination,
Regret will catch up with you.

I'll say "so long".
This is the end of the line.
I'd hoped for resolution, but...
That doesn't matter anymore.

©Ellen Pepper 2026

Fine Folk on Tour

 It would be a fatal error on your part
 to take me for a fool, Owen Wormgriever
I, Tansy Bellweather, insist you meet me in truth,
or leave me now.

 You've played havoc with my trusting heart.
You've played hard to get.
You've not played by the rules of love.
You're a bit player, for your part.

 There's longing in my silence, Owen.
You stop to smell the blood of your fallen foes.
I feel like I'm just watching life happen,
 What I want is to be living it.

 I'm looking for a life of adventure.
Take me with you on your travels.
Don't just tell me about your journey -
take me along.

 Oh, Tansy, my Tansy! 
You're but a maiden - fair and gentle.
There's no comfort for ladies on the road.
You'd be sore and unhappy by nightfall.

  I must insist, Owen Wormgriever!
I will bring a retinue of ladies to tend  us.
They'll provide victuals and wine -
we'll make merry and feast.

 What will become of Owen and Tansy?
How will they fare on the road?
Will the ladies bear the dust and grime?
Or will the entourage return anon?

 We're off at dawn, prepare to ride!
The carriage and horses are ready.
Provisions are stocked to last 
until we reach the Inn of the Tipsy Sailor.

 We're ready and so excited!
We've brought our fine silk gowns and hats.
All who see us will smile approval.
We'll show our fine manners to the folk.

The merry journey lasted but two days.
It wasn't the ladies who flagged, but the gents.
It seemed the relentless chatter was not to their liking.
Bickering ensued and Owen turned them back to town.
Tansy and Owen never again journeyed away.


©Ellen Pepper 2026

Just a Joker

 You're just a joker.
It's easy to fool others 
when you don't care who gets hurt.
It's easy to be a fool
when you don't care how you look.

You play your cards to win.
You're a walking fun fair,
but you're the only one laughing.
You're just a joker.

I knew it from the start, but
you were funny then.
No one's amused anymore.
You're just a joker.

Superficially charming.
Suave and debonair.
A word to the wise? Steer clear.
You're just a joker.

One day, your looks will fade.
Your smile, become a rictus grin.
Bitterness will set in, because
You're just a joker.

Your magic wand will limpen.
Your wild stride will falter.
All who have been hurt by you,
will shun you to the death.
You're nothing but a joker.

©Ellen Pepper 2026

Amy, Lost and Found

The very air had been electric 
on that hot and humid June day.
The children in the classroom all unsettled.
The teacher fearful, glancing at the window.

The tornado warning came over the intercom.
Children took shelter under their desks.
Teacher said their parents were coming to get them.
Thunder, lightning and children's whimpering merged.

The arrival of parents caused
a frantic rushing to the exits.
All the children were claimed.
All except little Amy.

The thunder bashed and shook the world.
The sky turned green and black.
Lightning flashed again and again.
The wind sounded like a freight train.
Amy and her teacher shivered near the door,
waiting for her parents.
They didn't come.

Amy said she was leaving. 
She'd go it alone.
Teacher said not to go - that she'd get hurt.
But teacher had to get her own child,
she let Amy head out into the storm.
Alone.

With the scent of sulfur in the air.
Donder and blitzen raging around her,
Amy struggled toward home in the storm,
wet and bedraggled,
hair and clothes clinging.

Setting out across a field,
the drenched soil turned swampy.
Struggling against the storm,
Amy now fumbled through mud.
One shoe was sucked off her foot.
She stumbled on,
until she couldn't.

Exhausted, she lost hope in being saved.
She knew now that she had only herself.
That no one would help her.
That she was unloved.

The wind blew her little body sideways.
The heavy rain and hail obscured her vision.
In the valley of the shadow of death,
her heart was broken and 
she vowed to never trust again.

In the distance, through the pounding rain,
 she could hear a host of angels calling her name.
And then she heard the voice of God.
He told her to stay calm and stay put.

She shouted, "If you were the real God, you'd see I can't move!
I'm stuck in the mud."
 
God came up behind her, the mud grabbing at his shoes.
He said, "Oh, my Amy!  Daddy's here. You're safe now."
Amy was swept up in his arms and she cried out,
"Daddy! Oh, Daddy, you found me! You found me."

As they reached the other side,
the storm began to clear.
The sun came out from behind the clouds.
Amy never forgot that when hope was lost,
she'd  then been found.

©Ellen Pepper 2026

Blake's Dream

 

A thunderstorm woke him
on a humid Manhattan morning,
West 63rd at Central Park West.
A dream still playing in the back of his head.

Stretching out, he thought of a
freshly baked bagel with a shmear,
with black coffee from the deli.
Smokes bought at the bodega.

A room at the Y was never in his plans.
He yearned for The Dakota - the house of mysteries
He'd walk past there, then visit the park.
Strawberry Fields Forever.

His dream was Broadway.
He studied with coaches:
acting, voice, fencing, dance, and song.
A small town boy with ambition.

And then, one day, it happened.
He met a Mr Elliot,  who invited him to model;
said he'd travel the world,
meet the rich who'd buy his favors.

Blake weighed his options:
trade his future for instant benefits, or
continue with his studies, 
hoping to make it in a world 
where the odds were not in his favour.

Was his talent enough?
Was he lucky enough?
Could he make connections with the help of the rich?
Blake was on the horns of a dilemma.

The agent dangled the perks of being a rent boy,
never stating the obvious drawbacks.
Blake hadn't the notion that he'd be a hooker.
Would greed sway him to the other side?

His friend from Iowa came to visit.
He smuggled her into his Y room.
After telling her of his options,
she raged that he'd be lost,
if he turned away from his dream.

Mr Elliot insisted on a speedy choice.
His friend insisted that he choose his dream.
Blake insisted that he wanted more from life;
He chose to grab the brass ring.

He made the wrong choice.
The rich chewed him up and spit him out.
His novelty wore off too soon.
They abandoned him to his fate.

He's back home in Iowa now -
chastened and broken.
He's seen the aching hollowness
of walking away from his dream.

©Ellen Pepper 2026

DEALING WITH A MANIAC

He asked a loaded question.
She answered truthfully.
Terse and to the point.
It took a moment, but, then...

Enraged by her response,
he advanced with:
chin jutting,
eyes flashing rage,
teeth clenched and grinding.
fists balled and raised.

Not shocked, she stepped aside,
lest he be tempted to strike her.
Bellowing like a bull, his words were like knives.
Every thing she'd ever done wrong was aired.

She stood her ground and said nothing.
Her face showed dismay and sorrow,
not anger nor fear.
She remained calm and at ease.

He threatened,
he stormed about,
he smashed delicate things -
he couldn't handle the truth.

She knew that he'd lost her then.
She knew it was time to bid farewell.
She'd doing it quietly without rancor.
She was done with him and his ways.

She moved closer to him,
arms at her sides,
composed and serene,
She looked directly and intently
 into his wrathful eyes, and...

Her laser focus made a direct hit.
He fell backward, and to the floor.
Writhing and gasping,
his own fury caused his brain to explode.

The truth wasn't an awful thing.
That man would have preferred a comforting lie.
Because he didn't value integrity,
his days are done.

If it is what it is... face it.
Truth honours reality.



©Ellen Pepper 2026

Gone Through Fire

 Can you fix something broken?
Confess to me your fears.
You carry your own magic.
Counter your rebellious ways with discipline.
Let your hands snatch away cares and woes.

Behold the spirit of the north,
The heat of the south,
The news from the west,
The rising sun in the east.

It's not easy to decipher the essence.
It's risky to seek the hidden codes.
It's foolish to plan for things unexpected -
when the game is zero sum.

 The broken thing can be fixed, but...
only when a heart is pure and chaste.
Your fears can be faced, but...
only when they've broken you.

Step into your personal magic.
Manifest your destined triumph.
Take a walk on the road that leads
to your esoteric imaginings.

You're a rebel inviolate within.
Seeking solid reference, you fight to
maintain a discipline that can be reconciled.
You're able to move with reverence.

Being the compass of the world,
north, south, east and west,
You are a  lodestone for others.
Your very being is...magnificent.
Yet, you remain humble.

Now you're moving like the wind across the land.
A force of nature, pure and proud.
You've gone through fire,
And are fulfilled by courage.

Step into your personal magic.
You're a rebel inviolate within.
Being the compass of the world,
Now you're moving like the wind across the land.
A force of nature, pure and proud.
You've gone through fire.

 ©Ellen Pepper 2026

The Elvis Zombies

 It's a dark and stormy night in August.
We're on the bus from the airport,
heading to the Elvis Death Anniversary Convention.
We're Elvis impersonators, we'll put on a show.

There's Inger, the blond guy from Norway,
Inky, the only ebony Elvis,
Jocko Elvis from Pittsburgh,
Button-down stockbroker Elvis from Long Island,
Mike, the miner with grimy nails,
And 9 more Elvis guys...
 including Pansy, the gayest Elvis of all.

The highway is slippery with rain.
The wind is pushing the bus back and forth.
The costume rack keeps falling over.
The Elvis guys are shaking
 in their rhinestoned suits.

Oh no! A semi comes barrelling at us
 across the crowded highway.
He's lost control and
we're all gonna die! 
Oh no! What about the show?
Smash! smash! smash! Smash!

All the Elvis dudes wake in the morgue,
except they're dead.
The undertaker takes one look and 
with a fright!
Sees that they've become zombies.
The Elvis Zombies...
insisting that the show must go on.

©Ellen Pepper 2026

Tell Me Who You Are

What brings you joy?,
asked the maiden of the knight.
Where is your happiness?
Where is your light?
Tell me who you are.

Erasing the darkness,
Lifting your heart.
Exhilaration, delight.
The smiling glance at eternity.
What brings you joy?

The knight pondered.
He considered.
He frowned in consternation.
He looked up at the sky.

A hawk in flight, he said at last.
My steed's scent as we travel.
The aroma of roasted meat from the hunt.
A flagon of ale on a hot day.
These things give me delight.

What brings you joy? He asked of her in turn.
Tell me who you are.

The maiden looked within and said,
Happy children's laughter,
Sunshine on the abbey's wall in morning.
The scent of bluebells and lilacs,
The sight of you returning from battle.
These blossom the joy in my heart.

They sat quietly, then...
the maiden and the knight.
There was much accounting to be made.
Knowing what brings joy, will reveal.

What brings you joy?
Tell me who you are.
What brings you joy?
Who are you?

©Ellen Pepper 2026

IDIOSYNCRASY

 I avoid overt hostility as a matter of course,
 but indifference from someone respected and valued
 will gradually grind my spirit down into dust, 
resulting in silence and withdrawal. 

This is one of my idiosyncrasies; 
something I've noted over time.

Everyone has a quiet bruising point.
Everybody reaches a moment of revelation
that energy is being wasted
in the pursuit of social connection.

I would have told you in person, but...
I can't go there again with you.
You've been told the reasons,
yet you were unmoved.

I don't want to hear excuses,
or lame attempts at levity.
I wanted communion.
What was given was ...nothing.

I won't slam the door this time.
But I'll withdraw, just the same.
It will be just like before,
but my engagement will be gone.

No hollow nostalgia can bring me back.
My impetus to try has died.
You go on finding you,
I can't help you anymore.

©Ellen Pepper 2026

WHO ARE THEY?

 Riding a crowded subway train
is like wading through hell for them.
They see ahead and behind.  (So clearly)
They see past, present and future in a glance.

Grief is etched in auras. (Plain to see)
Joy is like a bright orange balloon.
Sadness is draped in blue.
Anger is a red and black glowering cloud.

They barricade their mind
when faced with too much drama. (It's safer)
They move in silence in chaotic crowds.
They don't let on that they're hiding.

They're here to help but
so often their aid is denied. 
The Knowing is theirs alone. 
They retreat to hermitage to survive.

Time travellers of the heart, are they.
They know more of your life than you.
You'll find them quietly observing. (They watch you)
You'll find them when you don't look.

They see too much to bear, at times.
They have to turn away. (For peace, for peace)
They see the outcome of every choice.
The inevitable chills their souls.

These are the wandering souls who bear the weight.
There's no ease for their burden.  (It's forever)
Their only joy is when a careful word
brings hope where none was to be found.

You'll know them by their direct and steady gaze.
X-Ray vision is their norm. (The gift of Sight)
There's no hiding from their knowing.
It's better to trust they mean no harm.

Who are they? 
Really, I shouldn't say.
(You'll know, in time)

 ©Ellen Pepper 2026