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Amara Selraei Feb 24
Graceful as a bird on the wing
Opening its beak to sing;
Slender hands dancing to and fro,
Weaving gossamer threads of snow;
Eyes piercing as shards of ice,
Quick to name fate’s price;
Lips as dainty as a flower bud,
Red as the color of fresh blood;
Ears with slightly pointed tips,
Soft as velvet, yet sharp as whips;
A tiny little button nose,
Slender as the petals of a rose;
Hair as golden as a ray of sun,
Shining when the day is done;
I saw her amongst the golden trees,
But deaf ears fell upon my pleas,
And on fleeting feet she fled,
Back to her mossy forest bed.
Kelci Nov 2019
If you listen very closely
You can almost seem to hear
The sound of faeries dancing
Upon a sea of fallen leaves
To an autumn evening hymnal
Carried by the river's humming course
And the beat of bright red embers
Cracking in the frosty breeze
This is a poem about camping out in the great PNW during the beautiful autumn season!
Artemis Aug 2019
Do not give your name away.
It is the one thing you should

There is a strange feeling
that follows you
into the forest and across streams.

Do not turn around.

Don't accept gifts from
beautiful people
who seem far lovelier than they really are.

At least,
not for free.

Don't say thank you.
It's as good as owing debt.
Say you appreciate the assistance,
but never thank directly.

Tread lightly in all things.
Wear bits of clothing
inside out.

Stuff salt in your pockets.

And if you here music flowing from
a nearby stream or ring of mushrooms,
do not dance to it.

You will not be able to stop.
ravyn Jul 2019
theres a danger to redheads
twisted legends
their freckles arent souls but beware
if they ask to have your name
red to white to red; life to death to decomposition
theyre of a lost breed, of softly whispered promises, of favors
theres a danger to the wild ones
Kai May 2019
There in the flowers
another watches
writing on petal pages
attentive and fascinated
by the poet that lays
Just expressing the fae loving part of me.
Jules AA Apr 2019
the faeries play
around ancient oaks
on the mushrooms and
little toy bridges
hidden in the bramble.
dancing drunk
in the late afternoon sun,
they sing but no one hears.
plastic can’t speak, after all.
Kelci Jun 2018
Come and sit beneath the tree
We'll watch the fairies, wild and free
Shimmering wings dart here and there
Carrying tiny beings without a care
On tiny toadstools they do land
With blooms and berries in their hands
Wearing broken twigs and maple leaves
And bits of moss torn from the eaves
Now that they've finished playing games
They'll dance and sing round brilliant flames
Underneath a shining crescent moon
Til' dawn they'll sway, and drink, and croon
And when the sun is overhead
It will finally be time for bed
Magic flows throughout the night
When dainty fairies are filled with delight
Adam Robinson Jan 2018
Take the halos from our heads;
Grabbed hold of the burden;
Placed them in our eyes and saw;
That pretty face in pain;
& caught our small souls - so raw,
I could even feel you again.

We needed to set you free;
From angels eyes aglow;
So you are not alone;
But our nature hides from view;
This twilight dream has hailstone,
& battered my heart so blue.

If heaven ever took heed;
from our grey creatures fey;
It would know of fairer things;
& not slay 'twisted' love;
You claw at your doll's heart-strings,
But fawn over the silk glove.
You reach into yourselves,
and find no magic dove.
But there is a answer,
to calm your weathered friends,
Creep into the old stories,
let them be known onto you,
greet them like old siblings,
and they will not smother you.
They lost no war in clouds,
and seek and look with no frowns,
they carry themselves with pride,
not banished or forced to hide,
Listen to their song,
Protect their corroding land,
Look at them softly,
and hold onto their immortal hand.
If iron modernity is too much,
In its boil, steam and hiss,
Listen and know only this -
For the faeries hold more wisdom,
than the banker's unkind system.
Let The Melody Shine
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