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I know you always wanted to be a fairy. To sprout wings and fly away. Makes sense, because you were always beautiful and lovely.

I miss you and think about you every day. I wish that you weren't gone. I wish that you were here to stay.

Blessed with a heart of gold. So soft, caring. The extent of your unending love was untold. The world lost a wondrous soul. Without you the world has grown cold.

At long last you've gotten your wish.
You've gained your wings and are now free. No more pain, fear or heartache.
At long last you have no more anxiety.

Now in Gods kingdom, with your new found flight you can fly free. With joy in your heart you can finally enjoy the person you were meant to be. Even in sorrow, that idea causes me to be full of glee. Maybe in my sorrow that idea is the idea that I really need. To be at piece. Knowing you are free.

With sprouted wings.
I wrote this because my sister requested I write something in memory of our mom that passed away. She knows I write alot and I hadn't written anything about her yet.  I guess she wanted to see what I would come up. I really think she wanted to write one, but she doesn't think she can write good. So she asked me to instead. I think it hit the mark because she cried when she read it. Our mom passed away in May 2020. God rest her soul.
Dereaux Sep 30
My mother-in-law,
said I must read fairy tales.
Fly on! you **** witch.
Santa got a letter
From a young boy in Duluth
Will there be a Christmas
Say, it's not the truth

We heard that you aren't coming
This virus is real bad
Folks say there'll be no Christmas
And Santa, I'm quite sad

A virus keeping me away
What does this child say
A Christmas without Santa?
No gifts on Christmas Day

A week went by and letters came
They all said the same thing
We heard there was no Christmas
No gifts to us you'll  bring

So Santa called a meeting
He had to find out for himself
He called everyone around him
Including his top elf

Folks, this is a problem
These children are upset
This virus that they speak of
Is it one that I could get?

Research, do a study
Find out what's going on
I'll not stay home this Christmas
On Christmas eve, I'm gone

So, the elves all started searching
They checked and made the calls
This virus was a bad one
They've cancelled Santa at the malls

A week went by and Santa
Called a meeting just to see
If the virus was a dangerous
Would Christmas cease to be?

Santa,  said his favorite elf
You'll need to have a mask
So, we've started on designing
It is our major task

Santa said, he'd wear one
If it was what he had to do
I need to keep the children safe
Just, make sure that it's not blue

Another week, more meetings
A mask had been  designed
It covered up his nose and mouth
And it ******* in behind

I can't wear that on Christmas Eve
It will not stay in place
The knots will loosen over time
It'll slide around my face

The letters kept on pouring in
The kids all had to know
Was Santa staying home this year?
Was Christmas a no-go?

Another meeting, one more mask
This looked like Santa's beard
I like it, but, there is no mouth
I think it looks quite weird

Think boys, do your magic
You make toys and are the best
A simple little face mask
Should not put you to the test

Another mask, another fail
Time was getting short
If they could not deliver soon
This Christmas, he'd abort

Another meeting came and went
So Santa said to write
A letter to all magic folk
Maybe they can set this right

Two weeks before the big day
There was a small knock at the door
A fairy stood before him
She looked no more than four

Santa, I can help you
You want a mask you can see through
You do not want to scare the kids
They have to see it's you

Exactly, that is my plan
But, can your mask do all these things
She said, my mask is magic
It's made of fairy wings

She went inside with Santa
She told him fairy wings were tough
They could do all that Santa wanted
And lots of other stuff

The problem with my plan though
Is if I give my wings away
Wherever I am at in time
That is where I'm bound to stay

A sacrifice like that is huge
Do you want to make that choice?
There's no Christmas without Santa
She said in her small voice

You'd have to stay up here with us
A winter fairy you will be
Although you will be wingless
You'll like it here you'll see

She blinked her eyes and wiped her tears
It's what I want to do
I'll give them up to make your mask
And I'll stay up here with you

Santa, too was crying
This was the gift that he would need
He called his elven council
And tasked them with their deed

It took about a week or so
They made the magic gift
Invisible and see through
It gave Santa's heart a lift

The loops to go around his ears
Were as thin as thin could be
The mask, well, it was perfect
And there was nothing you could see

Santa put the mask on
Took a breath, and all was fine
There will surely  be a Christmas
And I love this mask design

The fairy was now wingless
She followed Santa all around
But, you could she see was not happy
She could no longer leave the ground

Santa called another meeting
Now that the mask is done
I have another job boys
And it is an easy one

He told them what he wanted
Gave a time when it was due
I need it to be perfect
Do the magic that you do

The big day came and all was set
The sleigh was set to go
The reindeer were excited
There was fresh, white, Christmas snow

Tonight, I will endeavor
To make this Christmas night the best
I'll deliver all the gifts you made
And I have one here in my vest

He called the fairy forward
He said the joy that Christmas brings
Will go on with no stopping
Because you gave your wings

For you my dear I have a gift
It's made from Christmas snow
A little elven magic,
And at this, the box did glow

She took the box, and opened it
Tears were in her eyes
A perfect pair of fairy wings
Measured perfectly to size

Santa, these are lovely
But, my wings, I gave to you
No dear, these are special
These fairy wings are new

You do not need to stay here
You can fly again and go
I made these to say thank you
You saved Christmas don't you know

I know you know the answer
She stayed there, need you ask
That kids is the story
Of Santa Claus's magic mask
milkweedangel Sep 13
Once there was a little fairy
they called her Fairy Kay
and every night before the morning
she'd paint the clouds of day

The fluffy clouds she did like best
big strokes and filled with light
but rainy clouds were needed yet,
so she worked hard to get them right

The rainy ones watered her flowers,
which she used to paint each cloud
and fluffy ones were good for napping
a good place to think aloud

Sometimes on the cloudless days
she'd feel a little alone
but they are just a gift for her
to rest her weary bones
a second part
Marco Sep 5
What is Earth but your shell?
But the sweetest comfort found in a bed of moss,
welcoming and warm,
soft dark green,
the fragrance of motherly earth misted on this everlasting pillow,
inviting you to eternal slumber -

Would you grant me just a minute,
a gently sweeping, dreaming moment of rest
under your cover of moss and twigs
(that is to say your skin and ribs)
and would you tuck me in with your rose petal lips pressed to my cheek,
your honeysuckle tongue flicking playfully as you laugh,
the sweet-voiced laughter of faeries and pixies,
as only you know how to coax out of your golden throat,
your lavender fingers grazing my jaw and eyelids, my cupid’s bow
hungrily asking for more, silently -

Here in this honeymoon suite of mosses,
the morning dew yet still shining on your nose -
a starry sky of freckles, a heaven on its own -
I lay my head in your lap as gently as a leaf on the wind,
barely felt,
barely there at all -

Buried deep inside,
deep, deep beneath the first and second and fifth layer of Earth,
where Mother Nature holds her own heart and takes a bite of it, too -
where Father Sun cannot reach anymore and
only roots snake through the soil,
this is where I lay and wait for your return come spring.
The shell falling asleep above me and
the fires of Earth’s core lively dancing underneath…
Here I make my bed to lie and expect in,
to humbly await as your lavender fingers take roots anew
and grow attached to your leafy body, watery yet wooden,
fragrant in the night of my soil.

When will you return to me, my heart’s desire?
To end my winter and invite spring, summer,
autumn all at once,
a raging storm of emotional seasons and none are too much to hold
for the strong Earth keeps them caged in and safe,
untouched by the outer world -
no fire or sea or thunder fit to taint them.

Please come back soon and put your elven dagger to the ravenous throat of my cold
Shin Sep 5
Thoughts of elderberry rest on his lips.
The poison dripping softly down the chin.
A gasp for air, one final love's eclipse.
Abruptly, the devils rise from within.

Clenching at the mottled Juniper Tree.
Their eyes glint of gold, their teeth gnash the bones.
His violet stained brow grows wild and free.
Frenzy takes hold and they throw the first stones.

A jam forms of berries, blood, and bruises.
Their echoed cackles buried in the sand.
Tear-stained ink blots, his soul he abuses.
Only then shall he find his helping hand.

A beginning's end as abrupt as rain.
A tale we shall tell again and again.
Alienpoet Aug 31
There are galaxies inside of me
waiting to be explored.
There are stories to be told that leave you wanting more
there are religions in the chaos of my mind
but I am blind to all the possibilities,
fed by science’s facts
the love in my heart set on targets I will never reach
the knowledge I will never preach
the words I won’t speak
but I am the madness
the chaos the light the order the darkness
I am the shadow of a prophet
a wizard’s fairy tale...
annh Sep 5
You ask of which I am most afeart, the rumbling tumblings of the troll beneath the bridge or the tinkering favours of an eccentric fairy godmother. Alas, it is the marzipan crumbs of inspiration leading me down the brambled garden path which most unsettle me; the ink that does not write; the unpainted page with not a gingerbread sight.
‘If you ever find yourself in the wrong story, leave.’
- Mo Willems, Goldilocks and the Three Dinosaurs.
There, i saw the Faerieland-
And Faerie looked away.
part of an incomplete poem
title borrowed from a story completely unrelated
Mitch Prax Jul 26
There she was
waiting in the twilight
disguised as a pixie
in a field of
magic mushrooms.
Her aqua hair
smells of the ocean-
the kind that washes into your dreams,
but me,
I did not have to dream
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