Sleeping Queen Publications

“Summer Rain” A Sorta Poem by Christine Wichman c. July 22, 2013 Moon Daisy was a Summer fey Who flew by night and slept by day. In mid July, she loved to play… The strings of harps While eating codfish tarts and humming what she had to say. In a moonlit midnight tree all was…

MELTING CLOCK Who are we, to say what time means, to a man who is running out. His life waxing away…once a full moon now a sliver, a crescent, a fading light. Our voices distant… white noise, to his grief. We buzz and hover, watching his clock. He counts his hours by pills, and his days by…

She was a volitorial bird by birth and right In a flock of others, useless to flight So on a wire she sat, in a spin wondering when, if ever, she would begin… to take leave, to escape. Fate, she thought, cruel on occasion, though interesting at best. Whispers buzzing back at the nest… “She isn’t shiny. “ “She seems…

Once upon a Mid-July Night A specter glowed, eyes bright green, Olivine piercing depths eerie sheen.. Here then gone, moving along the winding stair vanishing, vanishing into thin air… ~Christine Wichman c. August 22, 1913

Written By Christine Wichman c. June 29, 2013 Somewhere between wake and sleep a tiny bell like whisper echoed, “It’s midnight in the Garden, follow the flaming star.” Just then I looked to the window and caught a bright glimpse of light shooting past the blue moon. Compelled by something beyond reason, I rose and…

An original short story by Christine Wichman c. July 1, 2013 Lady Luck was a 70 meter luxury yacht that called Monte Carlo her home. Only the rich and famous could claim knowing her intimately. Oh the parties she had witnessed, and beautiful ports she frequented. As privy to many things private, she was a fly…

***************************************** Be Hopeful I said, think positive I said…Keep your face always toward the sunshine and shadows will fall behind you. It was a philosophy that worked for me, manifested surprises for me, brought me to the right people at the right time. It always led to the right path. Until it led to him. The Dragon. The Dragon…

*************************************** She looks so dull in winter,perhaps it’s because there is no lightto capture the lightthat burns within her… If the sun could burst through the storm, you’d see her colors are warm,her maternal force burning strong on the worn book of old-golden song. She fades but does not wither,for in her heart sparks of…

The priest staged his custom glance across each pew, then back to stance. Lording over his worshippers, with a timely pause and whisper. Front row Vixen, mesmerized by his cocktail of truth and lies held captive during vespers, with a timely pause and whisper. In waterfall survival mode she came to break Da Vinci’s code…