A Collection of Poems, Prose & Poetry from Sky's Quill

Poems & Short Stories:

Six Pack Wolf Pack - Original Werewolf poem by Sky Taylor. continue

Weight Loss & Diet Quotes - Sky's quotes on weight loss. continue

Diet Woes of the Five Crows - Dieting woes of the Five Crows. continue

Once Upon a Diet Dreary - An ode to dieting with a dreary little poem. (Well, somebody had to do it!) continue

Six Pack Wolf Pack - Original Werewolf poem by Sky Taylor. continue

The Black Nighty - (9 pages) A mix-up triggers romance. continue

Sugar Pie - (12 pages) Winner of the pie contest takes the blue ribbon, $500 and a date with the tall, dark and handsome Mayor. continue

Between the Sheets - (25 pages) A writer experiencing writer's block finds love between the sheets. continue

Boomerang Booby - (4 pages) One guy, one girl and one stylish bra. continue

A Cowboy, a Hick & a Salt Lick - (13 pages) Heath grumbled beneath his breath and it was with great effort that he didn't reach out and strangle the hick-girl who obviously didn't know a hoot about feed. His assumption regarding her ineptness was confirmed as she hopped aside and he entered the feed store that had been there since God had created Adam. Good grief. The area looked pathetic - more like a pet brothel than a feed store! continue

Ghost Falls - (7 pages) A blind date delivers the girl of Joe's dreams. continue

Searching for the Perfect Church - A Christian Poem

Searching for the perfect church, I drove thru town and around,
To seek and find a pristine church of perfect sight and sound.
My journey's been quite difficult you see, as well as oh-so long,
For I'll not settle for second best, for that would be quite wrong.

The brand new church outside the city, embedded in the dust,
Was filled with nothing but sinners, for my money they did lust.
Around the corner of my manor, to the church on Sunday I did veer,
But soon my happiness turned sour when they asked for volunteers.

Last month I stumbled onto a stunning church close to what I sought,
But the congregation of old bachelors labeled that idea for naught.
The little church nestled inside the woods, was just a bit too quaint,
Too small, too old and too confined for me, God's beloved saint.

Then I found the massive church that sits upon the hill,
Quite nice inside with cushioned pews that gave my soul a thrill.
But as quickly as I settled in, I abruptly had to take leave,
For a bawling child behind me, made my stomach heave.

I'll forego the church that resides in a meadow, for it is but a hull,
And the minister and his followers were nothing short of dull.
The church within the big city, though nice was smaller than a mouse,
How can something so small in magnitude, be called God's house?

The church I visited last Sunday morning, when the sun was bright,
As it bled through stained glass windows, playing with the light;
Although I enjoyed the light effect - so lovely, but all was not perfect,
For soon I determined the minister was lacking sufficient intellect.

So the following Sunday, I woke up early and drove a little bit further,
To my childhood church that I had attended with my dear sweet mother.
But it had changed from gold to glitter, the carpet stained and old,
The same minister, the same sermon, the same sheep in the fold.

The experience left me shaking, for I did not want to think of age,
For age is ugly and for me, an updated church is all the rage.
So wiser now, I hit the road in search of that church divine,
I never thought that finding such would take so much time.

Just where, oh where can I find that perfect church of mine,
Which mirrors my educated taste, and is equally divine?
For now I've visited every church listed in the phone book,
And I've been quite patient, due to all the time this took.

Where are my stained glass windows, the pews of solid wood,
The silver communion cups, a congregation that I find good?
And where is my minister that supports a sliver tongue I ask,
For searching appears quite useless, and I'm tired of this task.

So I sit in my plush car, behind my wheel all nestled into the leather,
I'll not give up until I find the church, of my important rathers.
For I'll set out early come Sunday morning, my spirit resolute and pure,
To seek and find my perfect church, I'll find it one day - of that I'm sure.

Poem by Sky Taylor
Copyrighted, all rights reserved

Read The Halloween Witch Poem

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Code of the Fang - (7 pages) A humorous short gothic vampire story. continue

English Ivy - {16 pages) "Why yes," she managed, batting her eyes swiftly over the handsome male who had rescued her.

He wasn't overly tall, yet the white Stetson he was wearing made him appear as such. From what she could glimpse beneath the hat, he had a mop of blond hair which was nowhere near a military cut. More like an American hippie from the history pages of yesteryear, she went on to decide amid her analysis.

The golden tan, the flashing white teeth and the shadow of a beard soared up Ivy's flared nostrils as she drank in the fresh air mixed with he-man. continue

Vain Jane
A Collection of Poems, Prose & Poetry
Copyrighted by Sky at Dawn Publishing