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#gnomes
The hole in the tree is sealed with wire mesh, and now -- there are no more gnomes.
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Feb 18
Feb 18, 2026 at 2:19 AM UTC
The hole in the tree
The cap emerged from the leaf strewn path Doffing duff and dew The Gnome blinked his eyes as he stood cap to cap He knew just what to do. Its cap was as red as the one on his head With speckles as white as the snow Some say it’s toxic, will leave you dead But that’s not what the Gnomes know. The Gnome knows it’s good, be it cooked or raw That it makes a most potent brew The Gnome got on his knees as he started to saw, Thinking of mushroom stew.
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Apr 11, 2021
Apr 11, 2021 at 2:09 PM UTC
Mushroom Stew
The warm cookies I now liked cold. The little gnome still kept me warm. But still, hugs make me feel at home.
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Aug 17, 2019
Aug 17, 2019 at 8:26 PM UTC
Would you like to go to a land, where the stories never end? It rests on a golden bank of sand, down where the river bends. The sky turns suddenly pale, while passing through the mysterious veil. But what a magical, wonderful sight, to see the fairies in flight. To see the elves dancing two by two, in the early morning dew. To hear the sweet music from the leprechaun's lyre, as the laughter trills through the air. Skipping over a babbling brook, down where the trees do sing. The dragons give a dubious look, to see the mermaids enchant the Unseelie King. And while frolicking in the meadows, watch as the gnomes gather rose petals. But be ready to pay the toll, if you pass over the Bridge of Trolls. Night is nearly on the land, time to greet the Sandman. I hope you have had a happy day, and do not forget to come back this way. ALesiach © 10/01/2014
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Jul 26, 2019
Jul 26, 2019 at 8:44 PM UTC
Fairyland
With wondering eyes and a thundering heart The boy took his seat, infuriated with the steady Pace of his mother, waiting on bated breath to start His adventure. Nevertheless she drags, and ready To burst the boy sits, and waits patiently. “My father?” he teeters and yells with delight “My father! Tell me his story, leave no detail untouched, With the glow of your voice might I see his face, with bated breath might I know such A man as he was, and be one twice over!” With her flourish and grace a thread soon formed And wound through air and ear, a tale spun with love And seasoned with pride, a whisper to show the roar Of his existence, the land of mere legend he lay far above. “He was field-tiller, Snail-wrangler, Berry-biter, He was the huntsman amongst the mushrooms, The strong amongst the stout. May the point in is cap never sag And the bend of his knees never wobble.” “Though sag his cap did, and with each step a quiver Showed true, fire burned in each cheek and coursed Through each vein, the burn of his love sent shivers Through those lucky enough to have tapped such a source Of vitality.” “He was many things my son, that father of yours, And many more will you be too, but remember To humble your heart and keep your soul kindled, For greatness awaits the boy who sleeps in a thimble.”
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Oct 3, 2018
Oct 3, 2018 at 5:12 PM UTC
The Boy Who Sleeps in a Thimble
I mouthed the morning, and dew and petal! I ate the soil but not the bee but even thorn! I saw the gnome inside a root of tree! I kissed his conical hat and kissed his feet! This I did all before but never within my sleep! :: 08-26-2014 ::
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Sep 8, 2018
Sep 8, 2018 at 7:24 PM UTC
MOUTH THE MORNING
Heavenly beings. Eternal in Heaven. The day is warm, but the air is cool, As I sit here watching an angel, who is sat upon a toadstool. She plays the harp and whispers a song And all around, children and their families are sat listening in silence. They are loved; each and every one. She is beauty in this place of peace; Her blonde hair gently blows in the breeze. Blue butterflies hover all around her. The sun is shining on us all as she plays her harp And softly she sings her words into the air. Tiny gnomes march past and the children glance up and smile, At the unicorn that accompanies the gnomes, as they walk on by. They are heading off to see God and the angels inside; While we sit here on the outside, in the morning light. I decide to go with them and leave the music behind; I have a job to do, so I must do it, but I can do it in my own time. You see, I am a poet and this allows me to be free, Of those things which hold other people trapped; Those things like obligations and duty. (C)2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
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Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 7:41 AM UTC
Heavenly beings
droppin off of the face of the earth so ******* and ******** betta make a wide birth im destroyin cities grabbin ******* causin ****** choas YOU ******* WANNA GET CROSSED?? my brains gone n busted YOU THINK I CAN BE TRUSTED? give me your babies and keys or dont ill just ****** rob these houses and homes and GARDEN GNOMES And WE'LL SEE WHOS REALLY CRAZY im tellin ya it obviously aint me! im as psychologically stable as can be! ya see my doctor says i should lays in bed pretend for all the world to be dead he said eat fat foods and shoot up them noobs no eating your greens no god **** sweet dreams and make sure from the sun you hide just remember ya lil **** dont ******* go outside well now ive been so here comes sin put away your fragile psychi caus this ******* gotta psych-plee i was born for one reason to commit massive human treason to be the human A explosion giving way to the long awaited erosion of you ya stinky piece a poo
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Dec 5, 2017
Dec 5, 2017 at 3:16 PM UTC
My psych-plee
Dinner with even the gnicest gnomes Can be excruciating - Their table manners are less than genteel - In fact they’re gnauseating.
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Sep 24, 2017
Sep 24, 2017 at 12:11 AM UTC
Dinner with Gnomes
As I look around my home, In my garden, I see gnomes, Sitting on their little domes, Do they think, these gnomes? Are they philosophical, I wonder, As garden weeds I plunder, What are you guys staring at? I'm gardening, okay, that's that! Consider the garden gnomes, Sitting there on their little domes, Cute, but ugly, little misters, I find them a trifle sinister............
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Oct 6, 2016
Oct 6, 2016 at 11:00 PM UTC
THE GNOMES......
Big red gnomes stomp and clomp, shaking me up inside. Rumble, Tumble, Bumble they go; making me all jittery inside. Fists want to fly, Words want to scream, and Angry Red Gnomes want to win.
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Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 5:48 PM UTC
Red Gnomes
There's a meadow past the village On a hill...where magic swarms You can see it on a summer night When the clouds predict the storms Life from time eternal Starts appearing in the field Gnomes and bluebell fairies and the magic that they yield You can see them from the village Dancing in the moonlights glow You can see the lightning jumping You can see the ebb and flow The pixies and the fairies Folk who are part of their own world Light up the distant meadow As the magic is unfurled Daisies and soft bluebells fill the meadow in the sun there is clover and some dragonflies And young children having fun The magic folk are hiding Lights are hid, and tucked away Until the humans in their world Pack to end the day It's then, from down the village That the meadow lights begin Where the magic lights the sky up In the early gloaming din If a human breaks the borders Coming out and much too near The lights go dark...and silent For the magic world has ears There are sentries in the meadow All unseen to you That alert the makers of the lights When the humans are in view there is magic in the meadow magic lanterns are set free where the world becomes a canvas Of dancing lights for all to see
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Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 5:36 PM UTC
The Meadow