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Shofi Ahmed Jun 21
The Babylonian hanging gardens is vanished
                            maybe the fairies tucked it away.
Lo the clouds swim on your dry leaves, rainfalls
                                                        hum on the way!
FC Azaele May 8
sleeping, slowly falling into a dream
Transcending into planes so beyond our own
parting from the body that lays stagnant
peacefully resting, small breaths heaving

The pale woman, dressed in white
departs slowly onto the dusty-brick road
where have she gone?
So far, so near, so alone and full of fear

Oh woman, dressed in white
so full of light, compared to the dark night
Stare into the abyss, whereas men cannot pass without fright
fairy elves will guide you, worry not woman in white!
They'll be dancing round over the fairy lights

Don't let your fright reel you out of the planes,
so dark, so cold, so dull when you compare
the real world is shaking
the real world - you cannot see it now, please, woman in white

Keep on the dusty road,
look not onto past the rood that sits
Keep your arms a drooped, and your head tumble
over the mattress as the creature intrudes
Oh! worry not on the weight that rests -
sensual, nightmarish, ugly, morbid -
A beast! So hairy, and here to cause a jest

Be it's saving grace, oh please,
Woman in white
****** rivers, bleeding red
Worry not about the creature that lays on top of you on your bed
Please, Woman in white..
be our saving grace
from the creature that has settled on top of you
intruding - least not let it get into your head
I write this as I stare at the paintings by Henry Fuseli's The nightmare and The shepherd's dream
She Writes Apr 16
I do not need to be saved
I am the knight in my fairy tale

If I fall
It will be off a cliff of mountains I scaled alone

If I crash
It will be in the waves of my own ocean

If I float
It will be on the boat I built with my hands

And when I fly
It will be with the wings I forged myself
She’s the last of the fairy tales.
The mobs came with pitchforks and torches.
The ashes of the golden era stains her skin.
Her magic dwindled, wounded by the sins of man.
She seeks not revenge, nor justice.
She seeks punishment.
I have been the guardian of her heart;
A heart she feels she no longer needs.
There will be a day where it beats again.
Not this day.
On this day she waits in the dark,
Waiting for the day her memory is forgotten;
The day her tragedy becomes a myth.
On that day, reckoning will come
To remind them their cruelty is unequalled
By the spirit of a fallen star.
On that day, I will be her harbinger.
On that day, I will resurrect the memory
They wished would stay buried in the depths.
On that day, the hearts of man will cry for mercy,
Only to fall upon deaf ears...
Because I made a promise.
Cross my heart, she’ll never die.
Look your devil in her eyes.
PM Mar 20
There, is a story little known,
Which came to light when the ruse had worn.
Of membranes torn;
And gallantry ill-worn.

Now you see, Snow-White as all of you’ve read,
Was not as boring as you’ve been fed.
She was a maiden fair,
That to question I do not dare.

But, besides that there is more to the tale,
Which is not as stale,
As the same pompous banter.
That, without having uttered two words, they lived happily ever after.

There, you see is a simple formula to this potion,
Of grand love, and romantic notions.
Where the man is a Prince, Oh! That simply cannot be altered.
And a fair maiden whose virtue has never faltered.

He is rich, she is fair.
All’s well with the world, so have no care.
They will see each other just once.
It does not matter if he be a dunce.

Love will certainly flow, there’s no point in taking it slow.
So off they will go,
Riding into a mandatory sunset.
With satiated readers and expectations met.

Now, as you know, in this tale of love and woe,
There must be a wicked woman, there is no other way to go.
For, it is a fact known to all.
Women are the wickedest of them all.

For, how could step-mommy leave it be?
That Snowy was getting prettier than she.
Tell me, have you heard of such a rarity,
Where women who are so full of vanity,

Managed to love a child that wasn’t her own.
Hence, stepmothers are the stock villain, and that is a fact well-known.

Now, Snow White was, as you’ve guessed, white as snow;
And being fair does a long way go.
Mommy dearest couldn’t stand that, women are petty we all know,
Even if they don’t always show.

So, she sent her lackey to chop off Snowy’s head;
And the queen was sure, Snowy was dead.
But the lackey had gotten soft and fuzzy.
And had let Snowy run-off after getting a little cozy.

Now, Snowy ran and ran and came to a small house.
Fit for none but a rather big mouse.
But dainty as she was,
She crawled through the moss.

She entered the little house and saw a warm cozy den.
She had run a long way; and was in a good deal of pain.
So, she lay down on one oddly small but cozy bed.
And slept for hours as if she were dead.

When she awoke, Snowy lay amidst stubby little men.
All in all they were seven.
They weren’t ugly little midgets at all.
But granted, they weren’t really that tall.

Well, they did look quite good.
Sadly, Snowy’s stomach lurched only for food.
Days went by, the little men kept Snowy safe and sound.
And now a strange feeling in her heart was found.

Snowy had a courting Prince back at home.
Funnily, who hadn’t even noticed that she was gone.
But all the while as she thought of her Prince and his face,
He faded far off, and she went into a daze.

Now, there was this handsome stubby dwarf, his name was Sneezy,
And his manner rather gallant and breezy.

He wasn’t the plump, bulbous nosed oaf so old.
As you’ve so often been told.
He was a jaunty good lad,
Snowy liked him better than the Prince; even if a tad.

Snowy in her heart felt warm and fuzzy,
And her little bed was amply cozy.
One day when the other six stubbys were off into the forest,
Sneezy professed his love for his dearest.

Snowy was smitten.
The pompous Prince forgotten.
One kiss followed another kiss,
On that odd cozy bed, they found their bliss.

Snowy and Sneezy lived happily for the time being.
Till, her oblivious Prince was alerted of this scene.
Of a happy Snow-White living with her chubby, little mate.
He rode through the forest, and knocked at their gate.

He was livid to see that Snowy had found, of all people a Dwarf.
The thought itself made him ****.
Better dead than compromised he frowned.
“Oh! I wish you were drowned”.

“How can you live with men?” he blubbered.
Now, here is a maiden with virtue altered.
To avenge his honor, he challenged Sneezy to a duel,
Seeing that he was half his height, wasn’t that rather cruel?

Now, somedays before this had occurred.
Snowy’s news by the evil stepmother was discovered.

Learning she was still alive and well,
With anger did her heart swell.
She decided to take matters into her own hands.
And thereby took up a disguise, as it stands

She set out with a poisoned apple.
Well, there again for every mischief an apple is a staple.
On Snowy’s door she knocked to peddle.
The crimson, yet deadly apple.

Now, Snowy here was smarter than she did look.
Didn’t I say, she wasn’t as boring as mistook.
Having well recognized mummy dear,
She took the apple and tossed it near.

Presently, with a repentant look, and show of care,
Before the Prince she laid out her snare.
Knowing well her beloved Sneezy,
Though gallant would die in a tizzy.

She offered this apple to the pompous Prince,
Who bit into it without so much as a wince.
Believing it to be an abject offering,
For her indiscretions, and virtue faltering.

His Royal Highness plonked on the ground.
In a deep slumber, so sound.
Thus, was saved her little Sneezy.
Gallant, stubby with a manner so breezy.

Well, the Prince, he slept in utter peace.
Awaiting to be woken by true love’s kiss.
But fair maidens you see, do not kiss.
For fear their reputation go amiss.

As for Snowy and Sneezy,
Their love kept them busy.
And they lived as happily as one could.
When living in a small hut, down in the woods.
A subverted tale battling the age old norms and stock plots, with a humorous twist.
maria Feb 18
Even if fairy godmother
came here
with my 3 wishes
you'd still give me
mixed signals
Written on Febuary 19, 2021
© ,Maria
alex marion Feb 16
once, there was a maiden
with such beauty and grace
her hair flowed like the rivers
leaving glitter down its trails

she wore a snow white dress
and twirled around the skies
it gleamed and swayed with the passion
of a playful, restless lass

and the heavens loved her so
like the child of a knowing god
she danced with the goddesses
in a cradle bound in gold

she straddled across mountains
leaped and jumped through the widest forests
she sought nothing of little value
not 'til she knew how love felt

for that mighty hunter she met
during one of her forest trips
swept her off her feet
like she hadn't glided a single step
and in that moment she fell
for someone unbeknownst
to the heavens and the goddesses
watched closer
paying attention to her smile
how she straddled slowly
across the mountains
skipped quickly through the forests
how she held hands with the hunter
and let her hair flow like a river
with the glitter in its trail
glowing brighter than it had ever

and the maiden fell in love
deeper than the vastest oceans
wider than the sky that watched her
fall for a stranger with all her life

and alas, the hunter grew
tired of all shenanigans
he asked to be flown up high
to the heavens where she resides

and there, he saw
the cradle bound in gold
the goddesses all in awe
of how a mortal found them so

and yet he was welcomed in
had a feast and soon, was in
the grandest room there is
in his arm, the maiden sleeps

and as sly as he could be
from her grasp, he did sure flee
grabbed the cradle bound in gold
and sneaked back down to earth

to be seen no more
and so, the maiden wept
for days and weeks and years
not stopping nor pausing bits,
not resting her eyes that needed
nothing more than the mighty man
that she had loved with all her life
that had tricked her with feisty lies
but not once did meet her eyes
to say his love for her
seemed to be a tedious task
for all she ever wanted
was forever in his arms
which the hunter did ignore
for love was not an option
for he claimed that the little maiden
was naïve of his true intention
and so, the maiden wept
until her hair grew black and cold
like a barren river left to rot
its glitter found no more

and so, the maiden wept
until her eyes formed crystal tears
that resembled distant memories
of a love gone up to flames

and so, the maiden wept
until the day the heavens sighed
the goddesses all conspired
to do something of this lonely child

her hair as black as the void
flowing like a river going nowhere
has become the universe that we are in
the widest blackness there has ever been

and her tears that shone like crystals
became stars scattered 'round
for she's never stopped crying
and so stars form up above

her crouching body sits
as the moon we see at night
because the heavens thought the hunter
would loathe to see her light

and her snow white dress
that blanketed the skies
is now a swirling galaxy
looking for love that's not in sight

and so, the maiden wept
until she, herself has become the night
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