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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.
“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 8
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
J E A Cole Mar 31
My seeking is in spring.
It is when the wild cherry blossom blooms above my window that I embrace its solemnity and kiss the sweet fruit. We breath the same happy notes of youth. Dewy morning chill passes by, and leaves me cold. If I were a tree how would the cold feel? Childeren on their way to school would bite the branches to find how the blood of the tree tastes. To see it flow red, they'd dance upside down. We remain silent; language is a crule, crule tool, made for violent crowds to invoke horrible delights. Mellow touches brush my skin and I return gentility. Feed me your gentle love, even though I fear my won't be sufficient to do the same. It shakes under our weight. We will break it, it's a promise. The unpleasantness of our kin endures.

I shall fly to the mountains as a fae.
“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 11
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.
CAL Feb 10
boy eating fairie wings
taste peach and mint
smell of ash, mango and cinnamon
heathen royalty
king of the hobgoblins
sunset hair
heart of void and gold
irises spun of silver and electricity
sing to that gypsy tambourine
young, elven king
run the woods
and swim in crystal
boy wanting to taste the life of god
just bite and feel her blood in your teeth
grab the stars
hide them in your carpenter pockets
want more
crave it all
king is not enough
empire is not enough
honey and dew-chips
ichor on toasted bread
eat your heart out
little and wild
boy of the fae
i wrote this all in one go while riding in a car because a picture inspired me
CAL Jan 17
golden eyes
catch my sight
on the edge of the lake
it sits in the deep heart of the wood
turning the cedar to swap and shrubbery
pale curls sit still in the wind
her tan skin a saturated rust against ash-toned trees
her presence calls to me
i hear her song over the whisper of the gusting breeze
violet robes and lilac lace
ruby rouge lips call me to her face
i wade into the water
but she retreats farther
taunting witch
with a siren's call
to the fae my soul will fall
she smiles at me
a grin too sharp
i can hear the fairie harps

what be thy name, boy?

my voice a gargle in the water
i debate the risk
i Cannot drown
my nAme is unknown
Dearest mistress
i be the quiEtest call in the forest
she pulls me from my pond side grave

i now own your name, boy

they come from the cracks in the trees
adorn me with vines
and crown my hair with flowers
gentle forget-me-nots and 5 oclock blossoms
she kisses my soft grey eyes
i wonder what changling will take my life
a disguise of old
but will that creature be so bold
ive been on a kick with the fae writes havent i
CAL Jan 16
fairy liqueor
they will steal you away from here
cyan and mint
cyanide and menthol

the fae will transport you
to the old forests
the marsh will swallow you alive
and call you deary

they like honey and molasses
so put salt and iron in your tea
dont takes the gifts of nature
or the fae will take you away from me

mushroom rings and salt circles
silver blades and playful masquerades
count the fingers of the beggar-men
lest you give your name to the fairie magician
if ye meet a man on the road, count his finger lest ya deal unknowing with a fae
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