"faeries" poems
Dearest Destined Jewel,
Of longest heartfelt yearning, Bestow on thee, Hamlet awaits, Ophelia picking flowers, Magnolia branches speaking, Beautifications of Spring.
Supreme buds of new life, Magnoliaceae of Queen bees, An enterprise of wonder, Symbolic child's enchanted play, Faeries in flight whisper attractions, Fondness, Les fleurs du mal.
Ample blossoms, Bosoms of delight, Devouring light, Little birds sing, Nestling, Chirping a languishing cacophony, Blissful unawareness, Nature nurture the soul.
A slip then fall, Nearby church bells distract, Into abyss fallen, Elevated body all at once, Floating amidst flora, Drowning, Petticoat woven dress, Resting on fresh valley water, Immersion, No contention, Hamlet awaits.
© Sia Jane
Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 3:38 PM UTC
Human Observations (the woman pees)
if you walk the world with pen and paper
or eclectic electronic devices,
sure as the sunrise espied,
the pen will quick leak
when wearing white
and so will too the
righteous words
righteously,
thereafter
when you can't sleep and you must
slam your sweaty fist into pillow
know that the pillow is
silent thinking, dude,
you really ain't
got a hope, a
prayer
fallen asleep in the soaking tub
a thousand and one times,
ain't never drowned like
the warning ones say I
will do but only when
restless in my rustling
no-safety night sleep
in my lumpy bed,
where I’ve already
dream-drowned
a million
times
the woman pees, safe and secure,
comforted by the knowledge
that we have bathrooms
separate, her toilet,
man *** free, tho
we just finished
making sweaty,
fluid swapping
***
she does not, won't put on makeup
in her pj's to take out the garbage,
that is why she keeps loverman,
so handy, nearby, shamelessly
firm, unwavering, good god,
great for one "disposable"
use per night
when you tell your child that you love them,
and they do not reply at all, it isn't that they
don't love ya back, 'tis only that they haven't
learned to love themselves
something well that just
cannot be
taught.
the more trinkets I buy her,
more she screams stop,
but never not once
has she said, here,
take it
back
if you don't believe in Faeries and Elusives,
try, for then you have a middling chance
of getting the missing, disappearing
whole sock hiding
in her ******
back, intact
If must look up the time where your
love is currently hiding/residing,
then the probability is more than
1.000, that you no longer love
her enough, or
she, you,
not at
all
you know it is time to shut down,
hang up the pen and close the
iPad cover, surrender,
give up the poetry gig
4 real when you start
to prefer an
autocorrect
suggestion
~
More to follow.
someday.
Feb 2, 2018
Feb 2, 2018 at 7:19 PM UTC
Lawrence Hall
[email protected]
Ella’s Unicorns
There is no reason why pale unicorns
Should not cavort in frosty fields at night
Or dragons play around the moonlit pond
Annoying the naughty naiads bathing there
For startime is the magic dreamy time
When flowers and leaves are given whispering speech
And laughing faeries flit from tree to tree
In games of hide-and-seek until the dawn
The world would be strange without unicorns
Cavorting in the frosty fields at night
Nov 1, 2016
Nov 1, 2016 at 9:06 PM UTC
Genderless with scraped knees and
A lipstick crush on one who bore the same name as me
Uncut brown hair untouched by bleach and
Stealing kisses from my best friend while my parents lied asleep
Lying in the grass with a picture book on faeries
Listening to the wind whistle through our dying trees
Jumping on the bed with my ***** and my bubby
Giggling hand over mouth when my mother called him "hubby"
Daisy chains and he loves me nots
Unbrushed teeth beginning to rot
***** shoes and ***** shoelaces
Visiting imagined places
Pink striped socks and a skirt to mismatch
Waiting for robins eggs to fall or to hatch
O, to be a child and to live within a dream
To lie awake at ten past eight, imagination like a stream
Mar 9, 2017
Mar 9, 2017 at 9:31 AM UTC
did you know
that the
self effulgent light
of God it self
is **** shaped
as above so below
the inner revelation
******* above...light woven
*** hole below ...flesh woven
does this not infer
a magical operation
perhaps a hermetic
ritual of adoration
perhaps a puja
to the ****
with ornate
kaleidoscopic mandalas
replete with wrinkles
and folds
emerald toilet bowls
silk *** wipe
with full color florals
to be ingratiated
by **** art prints
and to be fussed over
and judged
by certified *******
clergy
then to cleanse
with fragrant ointments
that it may remain
unsullied by its
birthing labors
voluptuous
smoldering
fecundations
for purities sake
as god remains
free of limitation
it too
must remain
free of its forgetful
tarnished children
i build temple of ****
high above the people
the little *****
do they
even know
where they come from
how they may
devote themselves
to the grandeur
of the solar ****
and its bestowals
of clumpy torpedoes
the catechism
of the solar ****
to know
to adore
to prostrate
to proselytize
the glory of ****
to the
for corners
of the earth
to be faithful
unto it
to be obedient
and present
your *******
for ritual manicures
by the true initiates
the fussy
******* faeries
those who have
the secret knowledge
and remain true
to the lore
and precepts
set forth
of divine correspondences
to fully appreciate
its eminence
its glory
and have no
God before it
that mercy
will follow them
all the days
of there lives*
Jul 16, 2016
Jul 16, 2016 at 8:35 PM UTC
You worth more than a thousand golden crowns
and continent wide silks
and all the brighter, wilting stars in the dark
and had you pulled the universe to you,
it will surely crawl under your thigh
as a machination made only for you.
And you worth more than the ten thousand horses that I had slain
and I pulled them onto your sheets
as whispery faeries gnawed onto its skin
onto its slippery vein
gory, but lovely all the same.
Alas, you worth more than another ten thousand of them running
hooves clattered across the impenetrable glass of auroral dome
and I saw you rode on another ten thousand that had not deserve you-
as you deserved gold and stars
and all the greater fury of this land,
not treachery and I.
Gold was the color of your ruse
and your words deify scorching stars into bloom
and you reek of rust — the finest yellow there was.
Mar 18, 2018
Mar 18, 2018 at 10:34 PM UTC
The morning finds the young lasses milking
And the young lads in the fields cutting
Rams, ewes, and lambs eat and grow fat.
The hens lay eggs while the roosters are strutting.
The sun rises up for his daily walk,
Drawing the day across the sky.
He takes his daylight with him to another place
Because the moon's time is nigh.
Evening falls across the heather
And the stars come out to dance.
The faerie folk come to life
And fill the night with their lyrical chants.
The mists on the moors swirl and caper about,
Taking rock and tree to embrace.
The faerie folk make merry and dance about
'Neath the silver of the moon's face.
They dance to music as old as time,
Melodies and rhythms from long ago.
Verses sung in ages long past,
Songs only faerie folk know.
They sing and dance under the moon and stars,
As long as the night covers them about.
But the moon and the faerie folk must go their ways
For 'tis time for the sun to come out.
Jul 17, 2011
Jul 17, 2011 at 3:48 PM UTC
They tumble in the wind
falling as they go
drifting in the wind
sailing as they go
they are soft as a down willow
and light as a babies sigh
i watch them after dark
dancing in the grass
like stars that fell from the sky
they move with dire
with hearts hot as fire
they love as no others would
They hold a passion of wonder
who would question that which has no end
So into the Night They fly into Twilight
To a Land of Dreams and Hope forever
Oct 10, 2018
Oct 10, 2018 at 9:40 PM UTC
I am but a single
dry dead leaf
laying beneath an endless willow tree
around the waters bend
close to the toadstool pow-wows
only inhabited by the faeries.
& the moon- she still shine,
captured but by a sphere, yet so free
her light may breathe
a chilling, frigid touch
between the memories you
have buried so deep.
So please do not fret your wondrous mind
over all of your insecurities,
though she may shine with a chilling reminder
I promise that in your eyes
a beautiful soul
is all she sees.
As my mind races I feel
I am unable to describe
the exact emotion you
have gently
injected into my mind.
My eyelids grow heavy
my minds afloat to space
all that is left in my world as I know it,
is the perfection on your face
You see darling,
I am a hija de la luna;
the stars will align with
Castor & Pollux
Cancer, Aphrodite, & Fortuna.
They greet me as old friends,
join me in my nights of fantasy.
tell me darling what do these strange constellations mean?
Oh how I pity thy cataracts
eyes white & glassy
but I promise the warmth will melt your frozen gaze
& in time, you will see.
The horizon shifts as I do to you,
how long do you wish to be at sea?
Alas, you know my poison
doubt seeps into my skin
like an 80 patch.
Through thick & thin,
even on the sorest of feet
I will skip merrily along your path.
Round my head I gaze,
The sky has been stained
with fuchsia & clementine
among the blues.
tell me again, how may I find your presence within the hues?
Wrap yourself within my blanket
of ease & security.
Trust me with your life or not,
for I want to be
there, when you most
need me
You cannot help
you are a broken bird
I cannot deny my psyche as it worries
*does a dove not care about her nest back home
when she soars above
the sea?*
Next to the beating arrhythmia
you try hold dear ‘twixt your ribs
my favourite poem of yours has changed
where I will weave a small nest
dream of your lips
& the sound of rain.
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 8:16 PM UTC
Do not eat of Faerie food
And do not drink of Faerie wine
Or when you leave Faerie at last
The home you seek's no longer thine.
Do not step in Faerie rings
Do not enter the Faerie Mound
Or when rescue comes for thee
Your sanity will ne'er be found.
Do not lie to Faerie folk
And don't insult the Faerie Queen
Or for all of eternity
You and yours will not be seen.
Do not enter Faerie woods
And do not walk the Faerie trod
Or, though you come back to hearth,
Your heart will ne'er again be thawed.
Don't listen when Faeries sing
And ignore the Banshee wail
Or you will have the dubious fame
Of becoming a Faerie tale.
Do not look through Faerie stones
That you find on the Faerie ground
Or they will put out your eye
So you can't see when they're around.
Do not enter Faerieland
But if you do, don't leave the path
Or you'll be lost for ever more
In darkness where the monsters laugh.
Do not ask for Faerie help
If it comes take care how you pay
Some want clothes or milk for it
Some are insulted and betray.
Do not accept Faerie gold
From captured elf or leprechaun
For it will turn to moss and leaves
And when you look up they'll be gone.
Don't swim in the Faerie stream
Where nixies and kelpie play
Banshee wash dead men's ****** clothes
In that water, so stay away.
Do not believe what Faeries say
Though it's true that they cannot lie
They never say quite what they mean
Honestly they will truth deny.
Don't even taste Faerie repast
No goblin fruits from elven trees
They're addictive beyond belief
A wise man offered such food flees.
'Ware giving thanks for Faerie gifts
Though they save you from all pain
Or else you may be in their debt
And lose more than you stood to gain.
Beware lights off Faerie shores
And lanterns seen in wild bogs
For wisps will lead folks off of cliffs
And laugh as corpses float like logs.
And buy naught from Faerie markets
They sell goblin fruits, curses, lies
The price your dreams, your past, your soul
Your voice, the color of your eyes.
Sep 3, 2017
Sep 3, 2017 at 5:00 PM UTC
Hidden away
within the forest walls
protect me my trees
and the tall Grandfather,
staring down at me.
Was this meant to be?
Some great lesson within
the confines
of the spaces between leaves.
The family of deer,
greeting me at the first Entrance.
Beauty behold,
these magnificent pillars,
who ungrudging hold up the heavens.
Was that the true treasure?
The forest was witness to the bond.
My best friend,
thank you.
Thank you Grandfather tree,
for guarding and protecting,
as the goddesses and gods,
play among the forest floor.
Thank you to the gnomes and faeries,
for taking care,
of the love sealed withing a wooden box.
Thank you Ganesh,
for being the trusty and honorable
guard at the gates,
at the ceremony of love
and adventure.
Mar 19, 2013
Mar 19, 2013 at 5:02 PM UTC
Greenish hills and alice blue skies
whimsical faeries wander along the timberlands
play hide and seek around pine groves
brimming the atmosphere with liquid of blithe.
a pair of cerulean eyes glitter under a lucid sun,
and reflected a thousand rainbows.
the feet you danced, headed forth to the ethereal grounds.
in those fleecy palms held a bouquet of fresh peonies.
as the wind huffs and grins, the fruit trees leafs begin to compose
as if in an orchestra house.
around my body flew a rabble of butterflies, your psyche is surreal.
"You came back"
I grasp to his muscular limbs, to fracture and to feel with seraphic love.
By the night the archaic moon hangs, all my dreamless night pulverized.
gory scenarios in my brain surrendered for an escape.
My heart pumps, my collarbones shrieks,
on our old bed, up-down, up-down, in-out, in-out....
"ah." the hue of a merry-go-round.
As the summer reborn, the reality seizes..
our love is immortal without a fullstop
-l.r
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 11:20 PM UTC
Sigh
I tap my pen on the desk like my teacher extracting my freedoms
and plastering it on the whiteboard.
He preaches and preaches about how he lost a game of golf last week
I need to take a dosage of education,
But whenever I take it I forget to check the side affects.
SIDE AFFECTS MAY INCLUDE;
-Boredom
-Faeries pulling down on your eye lids making you fall into the pit of sleep.
-Drifting in a car called imagination across this classroom.
-Hands are under mind control as you draw twisters in your notebook .
-NOTE: when you flip back to your notes when you are studying for a test,
they will be useless
Useless like "excuse me sir but is your love for the Broncos going to be on the test?"
I feel like this teacher is testing me not on the subject,
but how long it takes until one of the students in this class to go postal.
Too soon?
Sorry I should ship off my mouth to my mother
cuz mommas got the magic of Clorox Bleach
momma oh momma, use your powers to clean out my filthy mouth
yet he is still talking,
why is he still talking?
I'm still writing this poem,
Should I be writing notes on his college days
Or should I wait until his head lands on this landing strip
So he get his head can leave the clouds
Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 6:11 PM UTC
like autumn leaves we dance
in a deadly winter prance
we will lure we will cure
we will dance until your dead
Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 12:34 AM UTC
Why do we feel so compelled
to stratify ourselves above the natural World?
What it is that justifies
our Cult of Humanity?
Do we seriously believe
that our gradient of experience
is so much wider and more rich
than are those of dogs, or cats,
or fish, or bats, or lice, or ants,
or spiders, or birds, or trees, or flowers?
Wherefrom do we think
the notions of faeries, nymphs, sprites, and our Gods arose,
if not for the Natural world
as well as the traits of our psychology
made anthropomorphic?
Who are we
to suppose such things
just because we are us:
be this not the same sort of exclusionary cultism
whence are born sexism and racism
and ethnocentrism?
Anthropocentrism?
Who are we to belittle
any one thing on this God-given plane of Reality?
Are we really that caught up in ourselves
that we forget whence we've come?
All is but Energy
All merely is.
We are a part of that,
as it is a part of us.
All
is a holistic system
not a stratified hierarchy of experience:
that concept is artificial.
Is it so hard for us to see?
Is it so difficult for us to be humble about this?
Is it such a blow to our such delicate psyches
that we cannot concede such universal harmony?
Or is it that it is beneficial for some
for the many to remain deaf and blind
to this wonderful, liberating truth?
I think we all know the answer,
we just forget to look for it
and if we find it,
we become too distracted to embody it.
I know we're better than that.
I know we know better.
Do you?
Jun 8, 2014
Jun 8, 2014 at 8:46 PM UTC
*There once was a mage named Stella
Who looked just like Cinderella;
She sang with the faeries
And ate lots of berries
Till she was big as a fella!*
Jan 21, 2016
Jan 21, 2016 at 3:38 PM UTC
Hey, lilac girl,
girl who sweetly whispered
"here comes spring."
girl falling from the
ash grove, to the creek.
a map to find the faeries,
"here comes spring."
hey, lilac girl.
girl who sees the roses
growing taller,
leaving her
behind.
"hey, you're blocking the sun
from me.
Where is it you're going?"
far from me
sings
lilac girl
fell ill.
fell black and backwards.
hey, the shade of August's rose.
"Wait for me," girl sings.
she cannot catch up to spring.
Can you hear me, August rose?
Hey, Lilac girl.
I came back for you.
Mar 26, 2012
Mar 26, 2012 at 5:47 PM UTC
pink silk, floral embroidery
black ribbon, white trimmings
paired with soft slippers
& a twinkling tiara
Bibbidi-bobbidi- Boo!
mirror flashed, smiling sweetly is a princess;
skirt floating & feathery feet pivoting
dancing in the woods with merry deer
& singing birds
follow the faeries, drown in their music
the shinning flutes & playful pipe
luring one to a gentle doze
low bells chiming
woke up to an enchanted ruin,
go home, go home
crawling thorns & ****** roses
greedy crows & harden earth
body bursting & long limbs stretching
mirror grinned, a princess no more
but a grown woman
Nov 11, 2020
Nov 11, 2020 at 11:25 AM UTC
Oh father dear, petrarchan patriarch,
Thy gifted words of thy divinity
Portray the depth of thine own trinity,
And blessed are we who know thy craftsman's mark
And Blessed Are Thee, Thy Daughter Marian,
Who Walks In Beauty Like The Bright Sunlight
Where Flowers Grow And Faeries Do Delight
To Dance In Summer Glade and Autumn Glen
And Hilda, blessed are thee and all that's thine,
The gloom of shadowed valley thou has known
Yet love and life shall ever be thine own,
Oh blessed are thee and all thou holds divine
For thee, thy Hilda and thy Marian,
My blessings always and anon,
Amen.
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 5:53 PM UTC
Do you ask why the angel has fallen?
What is it the mermaids and sirens sing their song for?
Are jewels and princesses all the dragon keeps?
Who banished the troll beneath the bridge?
Do you demand an answer of your lord;
Why preach forgiveness in written word even while your children give voice to harsh judgements and incivility?
Where have all the faeries gone?
Who tends to their forests now?
Did the angels cry out as they were caste from heaven?
Do their wounded wings bleed?
Again,
Do you ask why the angel has fallen?
Or do you just follow the path your shepherd cut content with the fable he wrote, with your certain knowledge that all is right with the world.
Jul 5, 2014
Jul 5, 2014 at 9:02 PM UTC
at two years old,
your curious hands
happened upon a bottle of
flea medicine
that lay waiting on the counter.
your mother was absent as usual,
off on an errand,
or walking the dog.
unwatched,
your enterprising fingers
eased the lid from the container,
and you poured the sweet-smelling
liquid down your throat.
the world was still so new to you,
and it seemed to be made for tasting.
who could blame a child
with a thirst for more than
mushy peas and applesauce?
two days later
they released you from the hospital,
your stomach pumped dry.
when you were six,
idly exploring the woods of your mother’s
sprawling estate,
you paused a moment from imagining
faerie queens flitting about in the greenery
to take rest on a log,
your undiscerning eye not betraying
its secret: within it was a nest
of wasps,
and thinking they were faeries
you dared not move as they
rose in a cloud above your head
and overtook you,
leaving your body peppered with
painful angry sores.
you fell to the ground.
a hired man,
strong and tall as the oak trees,
saw your quick descent and
ventured after you,
made a hammock of his arms
to bear you like a fallen soldier
back to your mother’s house,
his tough sun-leathered skin
immune to the assaults of the
faerie battalion.
at eight,
playing in the small child-sized house
in your aunt’s garden,
you sought to make stained glass
from the broken shards of the playhouse window.
having no tool at hand,
what better way to
shatter the clear, flat plane
than with your fist?
before reason could take hold of you,
you drove your hand
through the glass,
and the raw edges cut deep into your veins.
blood flowed in rivers
from your wrist.
your aunt, ever watchful,
rushed from the house to
stop your body’s catharsis
with a dishcloth.
the jagged unpainted shards
lay forgotten on the ground.
Feb 16, 2011
Feb 16, 2011 at 10:05 PM UTC
I hover over your words
not for perfections.
*don't paint me an azure sky
cotton clouds
a field of sunflower
gold crests of afternoon waves
dark labyrinths
inner demons
or even angel faeries*
for my life of half drawn images
half digested joys
faintly lit phantoms
rough edge
rugged walkway
write me out
a flawed poem
imperfected to the hilt
no structure
no style
wild jots of your thoughts
just like you and me
flawed but heavenly!
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 12:26 PM UTC
Hath thou seen Queen Mab to-day?
in that bitter carriage, with her dreams
Forwarding to the cursèd fray
with unhallowed thoughts, or so ’twould seem
And creeping under willow’s bough
’pon rotting leaves and sick’ning scents
Of fretting unborn babes and now
she peddles with a marred intent
With foreign faeries in the leaves
who show broken wares and scattered souls
They hide amongst the dripping reeds
while dying rays reflect on shoals
And here, on the last hour of light
mab cursed the world into the night.
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 5:07 AM UTC
take me to those troubled seas
you have so gallantly sailed
those high-brick walls you alone have climbed
where others seem to have failed
show me how to create rainbows
pine trees and candy bars
landscapes of silver and gold
even diamonds that look like stars
teach me how to appreciate life
beauty and love
tell me about mermaids and faeries
or even angels up above
for how wise you truly are my fragile one
a lot can be learned from you
in your own little world you have become
an artist with a different point of view
how i wish i could understand
these wonderful things only you can see
but with eyes like mine it's as if i'm blind
and this is all that i can be
but you my child with your poetic soul
the universe that you'll create
will be filled with joy and laughter
and a million reasons to celebrate
Sep 5, 2010
Sep 5, 2010 at 9:01 PM UTC