Signs of a Happy Valentine’s Day

I was going to write a poem to go with this,
perhaps some other time.
In the meantime, pretend this is a poem
though nothing in it rhymes.

Have a happy Valentine’s Day
may you spend it in her shoe.
The above is a bathroom sign
for ladies taller than you.

They need a special place
to take their little men.
Too small to reach the toilet
too little to flush the can.

But what does that have to do
with this celebration of love?
I don’t know.
I just like signs.

And straight lines.

I posted this at my old blog two years ago.

I’d been wanting to come up with signs similar to those used for vehicular traffic, so when I found the original background somewhere on the Internet, I thought I could steal edit it and have fun with it. I created a few signs based on the female and male shapes, and tried different hearts to go along with them.

The above gifs are my favorite ones, and since they are gifs, they are animated. I think I might have entered the initial sign with the stylized red heart for an image contest two years ago (or longer), but I don’t remember.

Evil Lil Dracula

Or is he just a lil pet...

Yes, he’s just a pet, and that’s just ketchup. This poem came to be because I forced asked little squid to write it over two years ago. He kindly acquiesced and posted it as an entry on his blog, together with the collage above. I was so obsessed with shadows (I still am) that I forgot vampires cast none. I’ll just leave it there as a lesson to me.

This was a very amusing collage to work on. I changed her head three or four times until I was satisfied with the amount of red paint and deceivingly vacant expression. In honor of tomorrow’s full moon, I’m posting both collage and little squid’s poem today.

‘Tis I dear Violet, we meet once again,
My spell of evil darkness, you’ll be helpless to defend.
The fact you’re so Tall, can intimidate the many,
But I have no fears, for my powers are such sweet candy.

Oh you’ll try to resist, you’ll try with playful jest,
You’ll denounce me by size, you’ll use your words to your best.
Giants are so arrogant, they believe themselves so Superior,
But I know about you dear Violet, You can’t resist me thought inferior.

Just my size makes you weak, why I can see your knees trembling,
Am I such a little toy to you Violet, my undead spirit so interesting?
Do I tempt you to reach, to show me such colossal comparisons?
Why now your words fail you, can’t your Giant Mind find its direction?

I am eeeevil don’t you know, it is MY power you can’t resist,
I’ll convert now to a bat and buzz the tower of your fist!
I’ll giggle and laugh as you swat with mighty blows,
Why I’ll even tease you at first, with tiny bites to your toes.

Oh you like that idea? As I’m vacuumed in torrent tumble,
Hurled about in midair, nothing but a fly in your turbulent rumble.
But I’m faster than you, and I have you right where I want,
Standing 203.5 feet Tall, Your towering neck shall I haunt.

Like a mosquito I take aim, your fingers seeking so adeptly,
And my mouth begins to water, to the pulse of your throbbing artery.
But before I take my purchase, I send you a spell-casting gaze,
And in that instant your eyes close shut, and your world becomes a haze.

I mount your column neck, like a window-washer clinging to a building,
Then sink my sharp teeth into you, and drink of your elixir; red, warm and filling.
“You are MINE now,” I speak, “You’ll be slave to me for all eternity,”
“And your size will strike fear, in all those mortals so unworthy.”

“You’ll live through the ages, undead and all Mine!”
“And I will RULE THE WORLD with you, One Continent at a time.”
“You’ll awaken now Violet, and hear only MY commands,”
“You’ll do what I say, and fulfill all my demands.”

But something I hadn’t thought of, caught my attention without a chance,
A soft booming chuckle, took me by surprise as I glanced.
Upward I saw, you awake and startlingly wide eyed,
A gleam I did see, a curled smirk you didn’t hide.

Before I could react, I was plucked like a fly,
Carried up and away, from my prize in the sky.
I dangled and twisted, caught in your finger’s giant capture,
And all that I saw, was the Mountain of your face’s sculpture.

“Oh Dracula, so cute, so tiny your little display,”
“Now be a good little bat and show me, how you’re not afraid?”
“Your powers are no match, for my kind so Giant,”
“It is YOU that is MY slave, It is YOU who will be compliant.”

“Now tell me again, how eeeevil you boast to be?
“You said you have power, are you Dracula or just a flea?
“How DARE you?” I spat, “I’m the Prince of Darkness!”
“Shhh… say no more my little thing, your power is now MINE to harness.”

Happy Thanksgiving Day!

"shrunk-71" by TheShrinkee

I wrote a slightly different version of this poem three holiday seasons ago, and posted it at Giantess.com, on a Happy Thanksgiving! thread. I remember laughing a great deal when I wrote it. I enjoyed coming up with images such as these that include members of the board I visited spending holidays together in a way that would never happen in real life, but was fun and even adorable to imagine within the realm of playful fantasies.

I wish a Happy Thanksgiving Day for everyone! I hope you get to spend it with those people you love, whether you celebrate it or not. My religious preferences make me feel inclined to be grateful because I have people I love, and while there are some of them very far away from me, I’m grateful I get to talk with them on the phone. In my heart, nothing is as treasured as my family.

I surreptitiously obtained the Turkey Time collage above from the flickr.com gallery of one of my favorite collagers, TheShrinkee. My stealth is unparalleled.

And the only thing about this poem I’m sorry about is not how cheesy it is, but that I could not include more members in it.

‘Twas the Day Of Thanksgiving

‘Twas the day of Thanksgiving, when at Oz’s house
all the members were stirring, some the size of a mouse.
The turkey was laid on the table with care,
and the smell of taters and stuffing, rolls and pie in the air.

Then Chubby came in, a keg of beer on his head
while grunters cheered and muttered, “wel dirnk til were ded“
And D.X. in his loose pants, and Taran in wide chaps,
had just set off to fill their plates without gap.

When out on the roof there arose such a clatter,
they sprang from the house to see what was the matter.
Away to the window Dharker flew like a flash,
Trek opened the shutter, Zapped ripped off the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
gave the luster of midday to objects below,
when, what to their wondering eyes should appear,
but a group of giantesses that quaked the ground near.

And every member, so lively and quick,
Nemo, Moments, NFalc, and Crick.
grabbed onto something, as the giantesses came,
whistled and shouted and called them by name:

“Hi Redhead! Hi Violet!
Hi Fairia! Hi Kitty!
Hi Faith! All our Giantesses!
We’re delighted and giddy!”

And over the top of the porch!
Over the top of the wall!
They peeled off the roof
and ate turkey, rolls, and all!

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
when they meet with the wind rush of a giantess nigh
so up to the house-top some members flew,
they knew not to hold on. Disthron said, “Get a clue!”

And then, in a twinkling, giant hands came down
to assist those tiny bodies that were swirling around.
As from Violet’s pocket came a voice, a lil squeak,
pintsize said, “I’m used to that too, don’t worry, don’t freak.”

When all the lil guys were back on the ground,
they turned and returned to Oz’s house, not a sound.
could be heard over the rumble and roar,
of those feminine voices that giggled a downpour.

Their eyes–how they twinkled! Their dimples, how merry!
Their cheeks were like roses, their lips like a cherry!
Their gigantic mouths were drawn up like a bow,
and the teeth ‘tween their lips were as white as the snow.

The food was all gone, the giantess had eaten
every single pie, glass of beer, their hunger not beaten
They had billboard-sized faces and still rolling bellies,
their shoulders shook when they laughed, made our knees feel like jelly.

So tall, members thought, “We’re the size of shrunken elves,”
and they laughed when they saw them, in spite of themselves.
A wink of their eyes and a twist of their heads
soon gave lil ones to know they had nothing to dread.

They spoke not a word, but went straight to their work,
and filled all the tables with new food as they smirked.
It came from their pockets, those womanly clothes,
and giving a nod, they wiggled their toes.

Lil members sprang to the table, and ate til they burst,
or so felt as they rubbed their tummies. AW said, “Could be worse…
…they could have decided to eat us, you know?
Yet to Boy that would cause no woe….”

But nobody heard him, as they slumbered
to sleep off their meal. The giantesses whispered,
“Happy Thanksgiving to all, and to all a good night!”

Bukowskiing

I really liked working on this collage.

One day last year I was in a bad mood, and reading Charles Bukowski’s poems. Both factors combined like baking soda and vinegar, producing this high-school science fair-like mental gurgitation. I’m reposting it now because I’m awake, this one being the third night in a row I wake up right after the middle of the night for no apparent reason. Somebody get me some Hibernol.

Sleep
because I said so
and I’m much taller, and I get to tell you what to do

Sleep
because you are tired
but not as tired as I am of all the noise
the repetitive words

Sleep
close your eyes and make your chest
move up and down like the smallest tide
I’ll be listening until your breathing tells me the truth
the nose can’t lie the way the mouth does

Snore
because you do
even if you said you didn’t
how could you know, if you are asleep when you snore

Snore if you must
the sound is so small
only bats can hear it
and small kittens and special hearing dogs

No? There are no hearing dogs?
only seeing dogs, alright
I forgot
because I’m tired, and I forget things when I’m tired

Sleep
I’m tired of your excuses
go to your room and be quiet
climb up into bed if you can
that’s why I put that rope ladder there

I have things to do
important, giant things to do
things your mind doesn’t understand
because it’s so very tiny

Alright, no more mean teasing
but I’m tired, and grouchy when I’m tired
you should know that by now
go or I’ll hide the remote again

Put your house on the shelf again
make you date Barbie again
pull out my little black book again
look up and away at a distant point again

Sleep
and be grateful
I don’t know enough about roaches and whores and drinking
to make smoking guns out of them

A Story of Old

"013" by ActionFigure

There once was a woman as tall as a mountain
She came from a place where warmth was abundant
Her kin and her friends knew a difference in her
To see treasures in smallness caused a great stir

“What do you see in things so insignificant?
Look around you, dear girl; look up. You are a giant!”
They pleaded and chanted. She always gazed down
Ignoring their calls; strolled far out of town

Her fast-beating heart told a story of old
One day she would find a love pure as gold
Her eyes gazed to find him, her own and so small
A man to behold and show proudly to all

Long years came and went as she searched in vain
They gave her great joy and sometimes breathless pain
Her dream never died or diminished in strength
But seemed to evade her, at frigid arm’s length

The road of her life had rewards to the brim
And one night by the moonlight, she found signs of him
Blades of grass that bent to a path of tiny feet
Abandoned fires on a pebble with leftover roasted treat

Days passed with the magic that spilled from his trace
It was littered with gifts made with masculine grace
Loving offerings and notes that spoke of his soul
Hard to lift and to read as they spilled from her hold

“I have found you,” he wrote. “Now find me, if you can
Follow my trail and be mine forever.” She ran
And chased him through woods, her feet almost mangling
The clues on bloom stalks that he had left dangling

After hours felt like days, cold so near defeat
Hunger long forgotten, and sweat no longer sweet
She heard a tender tune arising from all sides
She followed it and found it came across a great divide

Bitter tears wet her face and her knees collapsed with grief
As she peered into the distance; dry with rock, no shade, no leaf
There her route was clear to follow, past a massive mountain range
Far from home and fair protection, music beckoned her to change

“Never have I been thus moved,” mused she in desperation
“to leave everything I know, abandon kin, my blood, my nation.
Why does fortitude now fail me? Why does he seem out of reach?
Why does land contrive and lift to seem impossible to breach?”

At the edge of giant forest; facing larger walls of gray
she heard unbroken harmony penetrate her wild mind’s fray
notes that joined to soothe and map a clear way to her affection
quick, she flew; her legs and heart aligned to move to his direction

No one knows the mountains’ secret; no one heard from them again
but the children of that region say they hear him in the rain
when it sprinkles on thatched roof; laughter, loving talk from yonder
and the rumble of her own, when she retorts in kind with thunder

The way I see my little guy

He's a feisty little one.

I wrote this over a year ago for my old blog. Some days I think it’s a pile of crap, but most of the time I like it, even if it’s about someone that doesn’t exist.

* * *

Size does not determine power. That has never changed for me.
The man I imagine has always had his own brand of force.
Reducing his height in my fantasies,
Enveloping his world with mine,
Never means he becomes a mouse, weak, or prostrate
Great I am to him, an earth-moving, ground-quaking woman
To me he is a different kind of great, in heart and mind
His valor does not falter to booming steps or thundering voice

“Come close,” he calls, “closer still, giantess.”
“Over my land, my home, my body,” and I see it, have always seen a
Union of two, equal though he fits in my hand, and
Refuses to give in simply because my fingers wrap him tightly
Admonishes gently, kindly, without fear, when his
Giantess behaves in a way she should not
Elevates me in ways that have nothing to do with my height

Soul he infuses in everything he touches
Perfect he is not, and sometimes he falls off his small pedestal.
In the way he writes, works, sings, leaves his footprints on my heart, he
Rises to every occasion, influences those around him
Improves, rectifies, expands what he touches
Takes much less than all he gives

He laughs often, never falsely or at the expense of others
Understands my own brand of fun, a “Silly giantess”, he calls me
Moods go up and down, because I do not always imagine him happy
Only our fairy-tale fights are short lived
Reconciliation is always sweet, warm, and true, just like him

* * *

Collective Soul – Precious Declaration

Terpsicorps

Top Secret! anyone?

So I’m minding my own business while reading the newspaper, when I pick up the entertainment section, usually filled with fluff about movies I don’t want to go see, and plays I’ll never attend, when my eyes slam against this perfectly innocent image above an article about a local dancing group, Terpsicorps.

Unlike president Bush, who falls asleep while watching ballet performances (or so I’ve been told by very reliable sources that know third parties almost in person), I love ballet! Just as it happens in gymnastics, those that have mastered their bodies to pirouette and fly and prance about make it seem as though it’s easy, yet I know full well that I’d split my noggin’ in several parts if I tried any such shenanigans on the uneven bars. Or on the horizontal floor, dammit.

So I look at the photo and think, “Yay! Tiny dancers that can also float!” And wouldn’t it be loverly if I could go to a performance of Prokofiev’s Romeo and Juliet where the former was barely two inches in height, and the latter a normal size…. But not a giantess dancer, because not only would she render the stage to sad little splinters with her thundering landings, but Shakespeare would have never written the tragedy were there giantesses in the world.

Can you really see a two-hundred-foot-tall Juliet bellyaching in her room (and running off to her doom) because her father threatens to marry her off to the financially sound alternative of Paris?

CAPULET

An you be mine, I’ll give you to my friend,

…fettle your fine joints ‘gainst Thursday next,

To go with Paris to Saint Peter’s Church,

Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither.

JULIET

Drag me? Good father, my fingers itch.

I am mine, and I’ll not answer to fortune wrought upon a bridal bed.

Talk not to me, for I shall brand across my knee,

A father that listens, by the force of a single digit.

Or something like that.