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Sheela Jul 2020
Grass flowers #florets

Glistened with dew
Every time I see I loosen my heart over you
This Spunky lil elf
costless but worthy enough for grass itself
You are the first florets I learnt to draw
No less than daisy to ignore

Hearts they have is shining gold
Petals they hold are pure as peace
Peeping just above the ground
In the Meadows green it’s found
TJ Radcliffe Feb 2020
A wooden door is built into the wall
of dry-stacked stone that bounds the little lane
between the elf-mounds. Curious, and small,
the door's ajar, a gate to other planes.
The wood is grey and weathered, like the stones
which grow with moss and lichen, ancient rime.
I put an eye up to the gap. Alone
I've wandered here, beyond my proper time.
A face shows by a hollow in the dusk,
someone familiar, yet so far away...
I turn and see the lane-way, feel I must
continue on my journey. I can't stay.
Above the stars are pentagons of light
while I walk on, across the fields of night.
Inspired by an abstract painting my wife did, which had a quasi-crystaline (approximate 5-fold symmetry) structure, but was better served by a far more eldritch poetic voice.
Star BG Dec 2019
I am an elf moving in human attire.
I prance I dance in holiday season
sharing hugs and smiles.
Celebrating with laughter, Compassion
and forgiveness.
I am an elf promoting the act of giving
as love radiates in every cell.

Perhaps Santa is proud.
Perhaps soon he'll bring me home.
Julie Grenness Sep 2019
Yes,  I was born a helper, the Elf,
Though thanks were left on the shelf,
Buddy the Elf is no fighter,
Smiling in peace makes us lighter,
Helpers find solutions, you see,
I am nice to people so nasty,
All I can say is, "Good for me!"
Feedback welcome.
what would i see in the mirror of erised?
it's probably like what dumbledore saw—
him, holding a pair of thick, woolen socks
because one can never have enough socks, eh?

remember dobby, a free elf?
dobby, who has no master
because of a sock harry gave?
you understand now?

socks are needed to become free.
Nikos Kyriazis Oct 2018
And where you walk
and now you lay
None shall ever know

For her you lost
returned to yore
Where your kins awoke

And back you never
came i see
Wistful cry of Elfinesse

They say in south
you stroll alone
Playing magic musics still

A call to her
your sister sweet to
Dance again upon your flute
In Tolkien's book Beren and Luthien , Dairon was Luthien's brother, who got lost in the woods in his try to find his sister Luthien as she had left to search for Beren. So here is a poem i wrote for her brother
Daniel Magner Aug 2018
She’s a dark elf supermodel,
kills werewolves for fun
with daggers, arrows, kicks to the throat.

She’s a dark elf supermodel!
She makes monsters run,
Strikes, poised to run down a foe.

She’s slaying it nightly,                                
She’s badass, she’s art,
My mind is seduced.
She is the only                                          
dark elf of my heart.
Daniel Magner 2018
Riley June Aug 2018
abandoned magic castles coated in dust
broken magic wands lay scattered
centaurs have long since disappeared
dragons no longer strike fear into hearts
elves lost all glimmer and awe
fairies get drunk forgetting how to fly
gnomes just stand still dead in yards
how sad everyone begins to fade
imaginary friends have become forgotten
jesters no longer have jokes
knights have all died in battle
listen to the wind howl in abandoned homes
mythical creatures are just dead lies
no one has felt hope
old and broken dreams litter everywhere
places of joy have been left desolate
quiet cries of all those forgotten
rest in a bed of leaves
slip into blanket of slumber
travel to this forgotten land
under the light of the moon
vanish from your world to join mine
we can walk together
xenophobia infects most who visit
your eyes must stay aware
zealous hate will stalk
Whether virtual or actual paths cross,
     aye great thee ahoy
no fear Mademoiselle or Monsieur,
     thy harried style haint cloy

rather, when embarking
     on introductory acquaintance
     ship, aye employ
swiftly tailored indistinguishable,
     asper this wordsmith mebbe goy

or Jew, yet genealogically
     thine Semitic lineage,
     unknown descendants begat,
one generation after
     stitched another thread,
     whence warp and woof, sans dat

     (moth eaten tattered wool worth
     coat of arms), twas slim and/or fat
chance biologic dice throw
     adumbrated me Matt,
a skinny, quirky,
     and nerdy kid, who sat

alone during lunchtime
     at school pained, plagued,
     and pronounced with extreme,
     where introversion didst agitate
chronic state of misery being alive
     immobilized, hogtied, and forfeited

     natural predilection
     to discover and create
heterosexual relationships,
     viz interpersonal experiences
     re: raison to date
initial intimate rapport

     (anxiety fraught) fate
full situation with a gal
    giving her good grief great
(yes, twas Maryann Sage),
     who understandably became irate
predicated on lack

     of mine demonstrative affection
     quickly becoming an unsuitable mate
though now in retrospect
     (hindsight always 20/20)
     a sudden resurgent spate

finds remembrance of things passed
     (with her) engendering
     cerebral tete a tete
rankling memories,
     hence for death aye cannot wait!
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