Le Shorts, Poetry

Writer’s Block – a Poem

Words, why have you left me thus?
I speak beguiling,
Enticing thee with sweetness.
Have you completely forsaken “us?”

This white page,
How it mocks my attempts!
My own best friend,
You fill me with contempt.

If I could break out of this block
Be sure that I would.
My friend,
Steady as the ticking clock,
I need your help…

Come on, just one line!

This has been,

Poetry, Raw


I once had a dream
That was so dark
A Titan came
To poison the Earth,
Hitler drove
A big black hearse,
And I was trapped
In this damned verse.

I once had a dream
That was so black
The devil himself
Said to send it back.
Mecha monsters
Blue and red
Battled over Earth
And to the death.

In this dream
A slice of yellow cake,
An evil scientist,
And a ride I’ll never take.
I watched the planet
Spreading black,
The Titan and
His staff of death.

He looked at me
And I at him.
This was the end.

This has been,


PS: A slice of yellow cake??? What, was I hungry or something?

Le Shorts, Poetry


Don’t you wake by bird’s light song?

But all is dead in winter’s frost.

Can life begin at journey’s end

Or is snow the mark that all is lost?

~ Twofer! ~

The passage of time

A mysterious thing

When you hear the bells chime

Then you must leave the ring.



Copyright FanTCBooks

Le Shorts

I’ve Got a Ghost Story for You

I don’t have many jokes or scary stories, but the few I have, and rarely tell, are good ones.

I’ve got a good one for you.


There once was an old woman who lived alone with her little dog. At night in her bed, she would put her hand down and the little dog would lick her hand, and so she knew everything was all right. The same went for this night. She put her hand down over the bed and the little dog licked her hand, and she knew all was well. So she went to sleep.

Sometime during the night, the old woman was awakened by a sound. It was like the drip, drip, dripping of water. She tried to go back to sleep, but she found that she couldn’t, and the drip, drip, dripping continued.

She got out of bed and went to the bathroom, assuming the faucet had come loose. She tightened the faucet handles and went back to bed. She put her hand down and the little dog licked her hand, and so she went to sleep. But she couldn’t sleep just yet. The sound of the drip, drip, dripping continued.

“It could be the shower,” she thought to herself, and got out of bed again. She went to the bathroom, testing the faucet levers once more, before pulling back the curtain of the shower. There hanging from the shower head with blood drip, drip, dripping down its nose, was the little dog.

A shudder went through her when she realized something else had licked her hand that night… Some thing under the bed…

Frightfully yours,

Fanny T. Crispin

Le Shorts, Poetry


On the isle of wonder

Where enchantment reigns

Where walls fall asunder

And set free their chains

Give worry to the sea

And stress to the wind

For on the isle of wonder

Your adventure begins.

~ Twofer! ~

Hush of night

‘neath a violet sky

Moonlit waves

Have sung goodbye.



Copyright FanTCBooks