A female gymnast in Romania
Sweet girl's name is Nadia
Went to a castle passed Brasov
A legendary castle, not of Romanov
Elegant and so cozy
To stay is nonchalant and dozy
Fictional character hailed once
People's world quivered more than once
Nadia kept coming back
In the said castle with a knack
Fell asleep one time waiting
In Bram Stoker's baiting
The night so dim in the scene
As a knight comes out with sheen
But the night crumbled with pangs
Nadia and the knight bitten with fangs
From the bed Nadia dropped on the floor, screaming
... a dream!
Dinas Bran
tell your tales
share them with me
I have travelled far to listen
your walls remaining
huddle forward like greyed old men
around a warming fire
let me sit quiet as the night
in your moon shaped shadow
and dream as you do
walk across my thirsty mind
flagons filled with stories
I will not fear your ghosts
they just want to be heard.
They named their baby Brad to be grand
But with a typo it came out Bran
How's that for luck
But then it stuck
Now they're raisin Bran I understand
Some days shine like a diamond, some like a stone
Today is a diamond day, all my troubles have flown
What is life's master plan
Maybe a bowl of All-Bran
It could be as simple as more time on the throne
I once bought a box of All Bran,
But I tipped it down the loo pan.
It was destined for there,
So I didn’t much care,
And I cut out the middle man.
If becoming "regular " is your goal
Pour some All Bran in your cereal bowl
It does taste just awful
Rather have a waffle
But not to much or you may lose "control"
for the my Favorite Cereal Contest
Where Lud gave wing, Blessed Bran doth sing
true oracle the visions bring,
from midnight’s land, bear burning brand
the Queens of old, gift Druid hand.
Shadow depth seek, sharp sable beak,
pierce psyche veils when prophets speak,
messenger calls through ancient halls
where Raven reigns the Tower walls.
Fey healer fly, the night-world sky
initiate Ovates nigh,
beckoning deep, iconic keep,
hark Raven calls to dreamless sleep.
Where Lud gave wing Blessed Bran doth sing
true oracle the visions bring,
from midnight’s land, bear burning brand
the Queens of old gift Druid hand,
the Queens of old gift Druid hand.
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