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"faerys" poems
Sprites fly through the living room they glow green with magical dust sprinkles. One lands on the end of my moms broom. She blows it a kiss and it flys away. Brownies climb the desk with little ropes they sneak off with my reeses pieces but they leave behind a bag of hopes that I'll be a famous poetess someday. Faerys are real, they just hide really good. If you believe in them sometimes you get to see them. If you go for walks in the woods you might get to see faerys play.
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Jul 9, 2012
Jul 9, 2012 at 1:16 PM UTC
Faerys Are Real
Show me the secrets of your shadowy places, where the visage of men has not yet been. Lead me to your garden in the grove amongst the pines, painted flaxen gold in dappled summer sun. Show me your blooming petals and your fruiting trees. Let me harvest your abundance, caressed by honeyed fingers, cast long and low against the tree trunks, fading fire orange into vermillion, scarlet, crimson, and violet dusk.  In twilight turning, with Venus hung low on the horizon, and Scorpius rising from the southern hemisphere, Trust my hand and follow blindly through the forest, over hobbled rotten logs, under branches reaching, eyes shielded from their grasping, scratching talons creeping sticky with cobweb and lichen,  Quietly toward the moonrise, eastward and down, upon a matted needle trail, softly trodden only ever by you and by myself. Wander with me, barefoot, out, into the ether; under the veil of our night-mother's gaze and sublimate into the mist. Lay with me in the clover beneath the starsign symphony -Gaze upon its harmony and shimmering melody- Inhale the acrid sweet scent of our settling dew, and reveal to me your many flowered truths Show me your soul set aflame from love, and life, and pain. Share yourself unequivocallly; My Goddess and my muse, betrothed of imps and faerys radiate upon me - Become my revelry -
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Jan 30, 2017
Jan 30, 2017 at 10:52 PM UTC
The garden of midnight (a repose)