Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
I was never told
To behold

The tears
Carrying all my fears

To let them flow
For the glow

To pay the price
For snatching the prize

To let someone die
On the mere roll of the die

I was never told
To behold

The dance of the fairies
Amongst fires in the prairies

Of the sacrifice
For the fool’s paradise

I was never told
To behold

The danseuse death
In her fight with fate

The glory bequeath
With the fory dead

I was never told

To prepare myself
To fight herself

To wrench my prize
From someone her size

I was never told
To behold

People’s fate
In someone’s gait

To let the decision
Be forsaken of vision

I was never told
To behold

The dance of the dead
As if they had never bled

Their waking up again
Out of deign not disdain

I was never told
To behold

The history being rewritten
And the mysteries being smitten..
I was never told.
Unpolished Ink Nov 2020
Thistledown light

Released and surfing the breeze

Up into a cloudless sky painted memory blue

Dandelion puffs

These are the fairies

At the bottom of a suburban child's garden
The kind of fairies I remember
When she danced
it was as if
fairies sparkled
all around her
and there was this glow
about her face
To him
it just made her
RCurtis Oct 2020
Tiny feet scamper across dewy seas
Firefly eyes dart amidst blades of dark green
Moonlight shines softly on faces that tease
Tiny feet scamper across dewy seas
Bobbing and hoping between limbs of trees
Teeny folk dancing that no one has seen
Tiny feet scamper across dewy seas
Leaving no footprints to tell where they've been.
My first Triolet
I used the .pentameter (English version) where each line only has 10 syllables
There stood an imaginary, invisible houri fairy
As a bride under a maple tree
Dressed in prism-hued layers
of chiffon in ethereal shimmers
and delicate silken gossamers
She having her weeny wedding in the fall
And fairy folk bustled about all round her
as flimsy and flighty as they could be
while saffron leaves fell down upon her
in ceremonial nuptial
An autumn's ritual
and as nature's pretty confetti!

Branches denuded
Yet autumn's august
for the wilting's
The willowy fairy
almost drowned
in henna fallen maple leaves
Playing hide 'n'seek with a browny brownie groom
camouflaged in the heap
© Copyright
This is about Autumn with a blend of eastern and western terms to describe the autumnal season and colours and to embody the commonly heard phrase, " she was married in the Fall"
SiouxF Aug 2020
Swaying in the soft gentle breeze,
succulent green leaves glisten and glow,
catching the sun's golden rays, filtering
through the coppiced canopy above,
reflecting off droplets from heaven;
Bringing the verdant vibrant woods to life.

There's many a story these woods could tell,
If only trees could talk;
Long in the night they'd stand and share,
of the songbird’s sweet call for loves lost,
the snowy owl's nocturnal adventures,
the *****’s screams of ecstasy, or pain.

And let us not forget, the forest fairies fair,
coming out to play on such a glorious morn.
Sunbathing atop a toadstool fly agaric,
Admiring the glistening golden spider's web,
Downing the nectar from a rain soaked leaf.
Washing dainty toes in the morning dew.

But don’t expect to see one.
For they are as timid as the fawn,
yet as brave as the lion.
As delicate as lace,
yet as strong as silk.
But they are there, rest assured.
Keeping the magic of the woods alive,  
protecting the spirits of the trees,
and allowing the secrets of the woods to live on,
For evermore
This is the second poem I’ve written. I wrote it the morning after the storm the night before, which inspired my first poem. I was inspired and lifted by the sun filtering through the trees and reflecting off the glistening vibrant green leaves
Coleen Mzarriz Jul 2020

Sleeping Siren,
sing me to sleep
a lovely maiden
help me shift,
in my daydreams
to hear his song — that slips away from his rims.


Sleeping Siren,
wake your spirit
for only your song
can force me to waltz
in his daydreams — oh, to encounter him there!
lying down beneath the
shadowy sun
created by fogs;
gentle, like a cushion!
with his lips forging into a beam
oh, to visit him, Daydreaming Siren — wake up.


“Oh, to be bewitched with magic filled
with air in love so keen.
Oh, to engross with fairies
twirling like a bathe bird.
Oh, wonderful, mysterious, mythical,
I am the
Daydreaming Siren,
hiss in the Waters
for I will respond.


I let myself sink into the broad ocean
and let the coolness rub my skin
for I am about to have him
the lullaby in my trance.
I locked my eyes
as I let the fairies
tune with their uncanny wand;
“Hope so bright, give her request
feels so strong, grant her a peck
love so keen, serenade her to hallucinate.


Sing me to sleep.
I will greet you in the Parallel
of my dreams bent by air
in love, so eager.
Await me there
for I will slumber a little without slowing
later I will see you
when I awake
'Tis now the time
of Spring
fare thee,
ne'er forget me.

For I will close my eyes without a slight dulling.
Oh sleeping siren, wake up and sing me to sleep! 'tis now the time to waltz in his dreams! with the fairies whirling like a swimming bird, I call to you, a beautiful maiden—I whistle into the Waters!
Jackie Mead Jun 2020
As I walk a meandering path
Through woodlands thoughts running through my mind.
This is my time,  to reflect, think, smile even laugh.
Halfway to home, down a small trail; I spy a circle of stones.
They appear to be hidden beneath a pile of leaves, under a big oak tree.
And I begin to wonder is this where a family of fairies live.

By day, you may not see them whilst you are walking.
The fairies keep themselves hidden from sight and you would not hear them talking.
But when the sun goes in and the moon comes out; myth has it the fairies play by the pale moon light.

I waited patiently until light turned to darkness.
I was rewarded as I witnessed the most spectacular show;
hidden from view, the fairies did not know.
Three fairies in total, all in sparkly fairy dresses;
their hair fell down their backs in long, tumbling tresses.
The fairies had glorious wings, painted the brightest of colours.
I heard them say their names were Darling, Petunia and Honour.
The eldest one I heard call Darling she had a beautiful voice; you should have heard her sing.
The fairy called Petunia was the pale faced beauty of Exetonia.
Finally, Honour appeared a tomboy with short hair and plenty of dirt on her.

All three of them were very tiny as one would expect.
Can you imagine if I told you they were no bigger than a *******?
I watched as they sat in a circle, legs crossed, whispering and giggling.
Then suddenly they clapped their heels,  flapped their wings, and took off to the skies.
The three fairies flew so high, suddenly to my eye they looked like three dragonflies.
They glided and swooped, they dived and hovered.
They flew under branches and over treetops.
They raced each other, 1,2,3 go.
Petunia I think was the youngest and she was quite slow.
The fairies continued flying until the moon went in and the sun came out.
Then they flew down to the ground and went back to their home.
Under the leaves, in a circle of stone.

Now when I am out walking.
And a dragonfly flutters by.
I wonder if this is really Darling, Petunia  or Honour.
I wonder if the fairies, knew that I had spied upon their manor.

The next time a dragonfly passes you by just give a little wave and say hi – you never know it may be one of the fairies or indeed all three.
On a walk in Woodlands  I saw a fairy garden and it got me thinking.
Hope you enjoy.
Kathryn Apr 2020
It is cold tonight,
leave a saucer of sweet-milk
out for the fairies.
I had a deep love for Irish folklore <3 My mother believed in fairies and if I'm honest I hope they're real. So I write them little love poems and maybe someday they'll let me dance with them.
Next page