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Samual Hidden Nov 2020
A pixie a nixie,
a fae all day,
To these I must say
oh me oh my, oh what am I
to do on this fine day,
this fine day in early may
with pixies in the air and nixies in the sea
the fae of the day, all around me.
=)   (*-_-*)   (=

why are names so hard
There, i saw the Faerieland-
And Faerie looked away.
part of an incomplete poem
title borrowed from a story completely unrelated
E Jul 2020
Bonsai
Rain
Flowers
Slain
Pine
Earth
Wonder
Birth
Ash
Gray
Wander­
Fae
Francesca Rose May 2020
A husk forever blazing black
Apathetic inferno made
Glittering in the moonlight
The band of thieves steal away.

In her roughened burlap sack
She carried the burning shade
Cradled among the glinting gold
Yet longing for the blade.

A creature full of foul designs
Denizens of the glade
A forest of young lovers' kisses
Renders her afraid.

She'd been here once before, in fumes,
Breathed the sunlight of the day,
and her heart had gasped
and touched a spark
which set it all aflame.

She was sharp, the thief,
and saw the lovely fae
Who stole her life and sought her soul
And burned her just the same.

When she returned, all was calm
Lady long absconded
With her love to the fae so cruelly bonded
Her loss a bitter balm.

The thief and the fairy met one night
And found solace in another
And since it burned so midnight bright
Both women lost a lover.
Hannah Christina May 2020
“Will you barter for your garden?”
the familiar stranger taunted.

His haunting talk caught on a loose thread in my heart,
recalling time and battles fought.

Make no mistake about the fae.
I must admit I was afraid, for I have seen my adversary

tear out the grass’s screaming hair,
poison the soil with atmosphere arid,
strip the baby branches baren,
shave the landscape clear.

I need not obey him.  
I have in my hands a *****
and around this place an angry hedge.
He can not prevail unless I show him the way.

“No,” say I,
“No bartering in my garden today.”
An old one from the beginning of the semester that I've neglected to post here.
CAL Apr 2020
elven boy
mystery king

laugh in the firelight, fight and sing
be joyous and merry

for your youthful life is ending

they hissed in the city
-rat-
-heathen-
cruel things

things to make him a king

the trees called
and offered shade in the day
and cover in the night

he crawled into tight spaces
and unlocked a magic in his mind
he found the power
to leave bad things behind

little modern puck
you could be a sweet little thing
but you found no sweetness, no luck

little ruler
sour cherries and apple cider
live your days
age becomes crueler

think of days
where want mothers
cursed at you
or struck you in whiskey drowned nights

those days have passed you
little king

but forget not
that life is not what it seems

hobgoblin boy
house brownie, boggart, fae
be mirthful as you can
for kindoms come with wars
you must not always fight
when you can, be happy and drink in your youth
Hannah Christina Feb 2020
“Will you barter for your garden?”
the familiar stranger taunted.

His haunting talk caught on a loose thread in my heart,
recalling time and battles fought.

Make no mistake about the fae.
I must admit I was afraid, for I have seen my adversary

tear out the grass’s screaming hair,
poison the soil with atmosphere arid,
strip the baby branches barren,
shave the landscape clear.

I need not obey him.  
I have in my hands a *****
and around this place an angry hedge.
He can not prevail unless I show him the way.

“No,” say I,
“No bartering in my garden today.”
This one was for the poetry class I'm taking(!).
The assignment was to write a rhyming or metered poem.  I decided to use assonance focused around the letter "a" as much as possible.  This is not a way that I often use rhyme.  I really, really like it.  It stitches the words together without feeling to sing-song or structured.  If you scroll back to my stuff from a year or two ago, you'll see that I used a lot of line-end rhymes and lots of meter.  I don't like the way that kind of structure feels anymore, but I also don't like writing poems that ignore the use of sound.  This is a happy medium for me.
Toni Feb 2020
I often dream of a place
Far from home
Deep in the woods
I’m sure you know.
Away from the people
The buildings
The noise
Where the witches dance
And the fae rejoice
In their absence.
I can’t keep the woods out of my head, I just want to dance under the moon and laze away my days in grassy knolls.
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