Eryona Writes! Copyright Law (c) 2024 - Present

Women They Could Not Tame They called them wicked women Because they could not be controlled. It was men who held the power, Not the women who were bold. Women who spoke to nature, Who healed with root and flame. Whose whispers stirred the heavens When they softly spoke a name. They feared the wise and knowing, The ones who sensed too much. Who understood the language In every soul they’d touch. So they branded them as evil, Turned the gifted into cursed. Then burned them at the stake So their secrets would die first. But magic leaves an imprint, It lingers in the blood. In daughters born with knowing eyes And hearts that flood with love. And though they tried to bury them In ash, and fear, and blame. Those witches were not wicked… Just women they could not tame. Original Poetry Written By Eryn Dunbar Copyright ©️ 5.15.2026

Fragments of Truth Stories and myths passed down through the ages. Legends of knights, wizards, and mages. Tales of vampires, werewolves, and fae.  Powerful warlocks who turned night into day. We were told that it's fiction... but what if it’s fact?  And millennia ago they all swore a pact. To rewrite our history and create fairytales. Tales told at bedtime to girls in pigtails. To bury the truth beneath folklore and rhyme. So no one would question the ancient bloodline. They silenced the witches, condemned those who knew. Then painted them wicked to alter our view. But magic dies slowly, it waits and it hides. In forests, old ruins, and ocean deep tides. In women called “crazy,” in healers and seers. In stories that somehow still last through the years. So maybe the monsters were never pretend. Maybe the ancients still walk among men. And maybe those tales that we laughed at in youth, Were never just stories... b ut fragments of truth. Original Poetry Written By Eryn Dunbar ...

  A Love Worth Writing About I don’t want to be someone's short story,  in a tale they tell to all their friends. I want to  live  in every chapter,  in a book that  never  ends. I want to be the kind of woman,  that my partner can’t resist. And deep inside I know,  this type of love has to exist. I want a love that chooses me,  in both the silence and the noise. In all life’s messy moments,  and not just when there’s grace or poise. A love that will not fade away,  when our passion starts to slow. But deepens with the years we share,  and all the ways we grow. I want a hand to hold at night,  when words are hard to find. A heart that stays committed,  even when the world’s unkind. Not fairytale perfection,  or a picture-perfect view. But someone who will keep choosing me,  the way I choose them too. For love isn’t just a longing,  or a spark that we defend. It’s waking up and writing us, Again … a...

  If Dragons Were Heartache If dragons were heartache Then mine would be slayed If love were a color Then you're my favorite shade You brighten the darkness With your light that won’t fade You’re a blanket of grass And I love every blade If stars were your laughter I’d live for the night And trace every sparkle That feels like your light You silence my chaos By just being in sight You catch all my tears And make everything right You’re comfort and fire You’re protection and flame You’re the calm in the storm That I whisper by name If it were anyone else I would not feel the same You’re my greatest love And your heart I do claim You’re my favorite person And you’ve never lied And you’ve always healed me The times I have cried So if ever I wander Too far from your side Please know that I love you Forever with pride So if dragons were heartache And love was the cure Then you’d be my shelter Where I’d feel secure I'm glad that my journey Took a detour For it led me to love That is ...

  Canva AI Image His One Saving Grace A long ago tale told by every town crier. About a love story that caught night on fire. Their flames could not possibly go any higher. A passionate pair. A burning desire. People would come and gather around. In every tavern. In every town. Drinking their ale. Their fists would pound. The Gods so angry, they shook the ground. Yes, the Gods were so jealous, of this lovely pair. For their love was profound, which was truly rare. Some people cried, filled with despair. For all of them wanted what these two seemed to share. Here is the thing, this tale is still told. Even though it is more than a millennium old. About a fair maiden and a Knight that was bold. To stay loyally by her, he braved arctic cold. He brought her trinkets. He wooed her with lace. At the very beginning, she made him give chase. For even just one chance to feel her embrace. And kiss her so softly, on her charming face. He knew she was someone he would never replace. An Epic lo...

Canva AI Image The Curfew As darkness falls  The shadows creep  A witch’s cauldron  Starts to steep The Ravens sing Their nightly song  And creatures scurry  In a throng People start  Rushing home  For in the night The dangers roam They hurry up  And lock their doors  They hear the wailing  From the Moors There’s eerie hooting  From the Owls  Perils lurk And evil prowls Some too frightened To fall asleep  Wolves are hunting  And they’re the sheep  The Witches cackle  The wind does carry  Seems to make  The night more scary  The windows barred  The shutters closed  An unspoken curfew  Is imposed  And those who choose  To brave the street To prove themselves  With daring feet Probably won’t  Remain alive  For very few  Ever survive  To share their story  Or lavish tale With those they meet Over an Ale They meet a fate That’s worse than death...

  Canva AI Image The Witches Den Through a darkened forest Where no willows weep And no light breaks through Though shadows leap There lives a witch Whose feared by all They shield their ears From her cackled call On her cottage door There hangs a sign “Think long and hard Before you cross this line” The story warns Don’t meet her gaze Or you’ll disappear And be lost for days Rumors swirl That when you return You wear the mark Of the Witches burn What that means Is she owns your soul Your name now etched On her Witches Scroll There are those whose fear Caves to their desire So they willingly Brave the Witches Ire You must take the path quickly Follow all the way round Watch out for the vines That’ll pull you down in the ground If you actually make it To the Witches Den That’s the beginning Of your end Your life’s worth more Than a sketchy spell If you choose unwisely Your path leads to hell So heed the signs That warn you away And live to see Another day Original Poetry Written By ...

Canva AI Image A Tale Of Old We turn the pages Of our book A time long gone A bubbling brook A castle Hidden in the mist Where knights of lore Did exist A fairytale Starts to unfold There lived a people From aeon’s old That worked the land And loved to laugh Who never felt The Kingdoms wrath The Bard’s would come And spin their tales Every night Whilst they drank Ales Rumors spread About this town And strangers started Comin’ round They could not believe What they would hear About a people That felt no fear The Kingdom grew Far and wide The joy they felt No one denied Is this real Or just folklore The story’s over There is no more I’d like to think This tale is true That happiness Was all they knew I guess we’ll never Really know About this Kingdom From long ago The book now closed The story ends But it lives on When shared with friends Original Poetry Written By Eryn Dunbar Copyright (c) 3.31.2025