The Image of a Mermaid

"They were six lovely mermaids; the youngest was the most beautiful. Her complexion was as fine as the petal of a rose and her eyes as blue as the deepest lake but, just like everyone else down there, she had no feet; her body ended in a fishtail."

"Through the great hall flowed a moving current, and on that the mermen and mermaids danced, while they sang their own beautiful songs. Such lovely voices are never heard up on earth; and the little mermaid sang most beautifully of them all. The others clapped their hands when she had finished, and for a moment she felt happy, knowing that she had the most beautiful voice both on earth and in the sea."

- Hans Christian Andersen 

The Little Mermaid 

I remember reading this passage when I was a child and thinking what a lovely image it formed in my mind. Though I am by no means an artist and this fails to capture the beautiful creature Andersen describes, I drew this sketch many years later in an attempt to capture the lovely image living within my imagination.  

The Unwise King

The night is cool and the wind doth sing
A breezy ballad for a king.
“You preside over your domain –
A royal life that lives in vain.
But Death shall come to all that breathes
The air that stirs the autumn leaves.
Though you may be a king, you’re old
Death shall come to exact its toll.
He shall come to take your soul.”

“But royal’s rare,” said the unwise king.
“To life’s whims we do not cling.
Death shall pass right over me
And I shall remain – royal and free.”

“But years do pass, royal you may be
You cannot live for eternity,”
Whispered the wind over the sea.

And the years did pass
Though he was royal.
Rings in trees multiply and coil.
‘Till late one night Death came to visit.
Unmerciful, he was quite unpleasant.
Then the unwise king lay in his bed
Blanketed in earth of a dusty red
“I told you so,” the retreating wind said.

The Winter Woods

The sky is dreary
A cold dove gray
That obliges my mind to wonder and stray
From the open road before me, straight
Lined by a snow-powdered, wooden gate
And dark black birds that sit and stare
Never endeavor to brazen the air
That darts in and out of pine needle trees
Shelter to little from the ghastly breeze
My eyes miss nothing of the time frozen woods
Though my mind sees spring where winter has stood
When the quiet is broken by pale little birds
That chirp and sweetly sing out their words
And nestled between trees is a hidden place where
A river runs gently over small stepping stones
Shaded by trees where Spanish moss grows
It soon floats away the last burnt orange leaf
As autumn steals to winter, a season’s thief
Dark staring eyes show the frozen grief
Of the little fish that lies immobile there
The sound of my progression muffled
By a blanket of snow
And with each step I feel my momentum slow
My weary body begs me to stay
In the shadowed woods under a sky colored gray

Already Gone

Am I running from my problems
Or just leaving them behind
It doesn’t matter
Cause I’m already gone
No direction on my mind

I’ve locked the door
And shut the gate
And gathered up my pack
I won’t be taking those weighty things
I can’t fit on my back

I’m on a road
I’ve never been
Long and winding out for miles
And if you never find me looking back
It’s really no surprise

Cause I’m a wonderer
Like Gulliver
And I will never return
Because it’s really not worth thinkin’ 'bout
Those bridges that we’ve burned

And I’m already gone