"fairie" poems
some times I believe,
not think,
but believe,
that there are indeed little figures in the grass,
brushing my ankles with tickles and laughs
sometimes in mid of velvet black,
can see them waving their six fingered hands
in front of the lights across the bay,
for the twinkles are different, their winkles,
semaphoric, euphoric, random but patterned
every know and every then,
could they be inside me,
inciting riots, sugar sharp pains,
in places where pain has no place purposed,
feel them lifting my-back-of-the-neck hairs,
at scary movies, making an ear itchy, why?
these elusives
are fairie godmothers,
personal angels,
hobgoblins,
shoulder sitters,
amusing muses
ear whisperers,
of new poem titles
sock stealers,
shoelace knoters,
giggling self-amusers,
ever present, ever invisible,
hat hiders, wet spot slider installers
you say you know them too?
cousins perhaps, for my elusives,
could not be here and there,
for they are:
as I write,
as I speak,
this very second
fluttering my eyelids,
those rascals,
to lay me down to sleep,
in cherishing tenderness me to keep
for they know too well,
sleep,
is an elusive of a different kind,
like peace of mind,
but they do their best,
to distract me unto rest
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 11:15 PM UTC
Nodding, nodding 'pon thy stem,
Thou bloom o' morn; nodding, nodding
To the bees, asearch o' honey's sweet.
Wilt thou to droop, and wilt the dance o' thee
To vanish with the going o' the day?
Hath the tearing o' the air o' thy sharped thorn
Sent musics up unto the bright,
Or doth thy dance to mean anaught
Save breeze-kiss 'pon thy bloom?
Hath yonder songster harked to thee,
And doth he sing thy love? Or hath he tuned
His song of world's wailing o' the day?
Doth mom shew thee naught save thy garden's wall,
That shutteth thee away, a treasure o' thy day?
Doth yonder hum then spell anaught,
Save whirring o' the wing that hovereth
O'er thy bud to sup the sweet?
Ah, garden's deep, afulled o' fairie's word,
And creeped o’er with winged mites, where but
The raindrop's patter telleth thee His love—
Doth all this vanish then, at closing o' the day?
Anay. For He hath made a one who seeketh here,
And storeth drops, and song, and hum, and sweets,
And of these weaveth garland for the earth.
From off his lute doth drip the day of Him!
3.4k
Down in the forest,
past the bluebells sits a glade
Hidden from the outside world
Protected, dark in shade
A magic place where fairies live
Behind a silver veil
With a gate made out of spider silk
And guarded by a snail
It's hidden from the normal path
Behind large ferns and leaves
It is only seen by fairie fok
And those who do believe
The snail sits watching up the path
For hikers and their ilk
Prepared to send the warning out
by breaking through the silk
The bluebells let the fairie folk
Know it is time to hide
Behind the silver slippers
Secret signals they abide
A place where water runs as clear
As blue as summer sky
Where magic lights the world for them
Where fairies float and fly
It is a glade not seen by us
If we do not know to look
To us it's just a darkened glade
Fed by a smallish brook
But, there inside the curtain
Is a world of childhood dreams
Where wishes are all granted
And tears help fill the streams
Magic is the hallmark
It keeps the land of fairie well
If you found it, who'd believe you
really, just who could you tell?
Protected by an old brown snail
With his silver trail behind
with a spider web to block the way
It's a place so few will find
Believe and you will see it
Past the trees and in the shade
It will open up to serve you
In that small and magic glade
If you see the folk of fairie
And their wings of gossamer glass
Then you've met up with the old brown snail
And he chose to let you pass.
Jul 2, 2013
Jul 2, 2013 at 11:54 PM UTC
Empress of cacti
Queen of the Night
She is resplendent
A fairie in flight
Glowing... a phosphor
With her inner light
The moon, her companion
They dance in the dark
Wooing and spooning
A'courting a spark
But they'll hearken to morning
Yes... they'll soon part...
They mourn at their parting
Such is their plight.
Her face alabaster
Her fingers so slight
She's proud and she's perfect
Her shoulders pure white
Of noblest bearing
The Queen of the Night.
SøułSurvivør
(C) 3/26/2018
Apr 17, 2018
Apr 17, 2018 at 8:50 AM UTC
She rolls along the high wires
Tightrope walkin' moon
She graces life's big circus
She is gone too soon
Huge! A glowing fairie
So luminous! So bright!
She's suspended on the ropes
The performer of the night!
I watch her intently
As she's held aloft
Then she slips toward the hills...
... she is fallin' off!
But she bows down and curtseys!
A smile on her face
She's lost not her dancer's poise,
She maintains her grace.
Finally she exits
The horizon sets the stage
She is only a faint glow
The night has turned the page.
I'll remember her with fondness
As she danced to Claire de Lune...
In her sequined tutu
Tightrope walkin' moon.
SøułSurvivør
8/26/2018
Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 8:37 AM UTC
Sunshine and grog
Dancing through thick fog
Midst over mountains
Shimmering gold in fountains
The feeling of serenity
Calmness and warmth
Soul inspiring
Never expiring
Enthrall me within
Give me that special grin
Always without sin
Purity so complete
Never to defeat
Warriors heart inside
I'll never abide
With man's side
I am wild and free
I am a cold winters breeze
A storm of brim and stone
Ashes flung and flown
I am a witch burning
Never returning
To their master
I will run faster
You cannot stop me
Stinging like a bee
Souring with graceful ease
I am a fairie never to please
I will use my sword
I will say my words
With passion and curse
Do your absolute worst
I am me
And she is free
Maybe only inside
In my own mind
But she you will never find
She is but mine
A special kind
A loving mother
In which moss takes cover
Leave it lone
She is alone
But pain is gone
For peace is beauty
And green is all she can see
That is me
I am green with grass
Yellow with daisies
And free with fairies
Loved by many
And giving so much
I am glee
And complete
With me
On my own
Aug 19, 2022
Aug 19, 2022 at 3:15 AM UTC
^~~~~^~~~^
poets are in love
with things of pathos fair
the lure that draws the moth
to the flame's despair
the insect caught in amber
the mateless bird that sings
the colors of the sun that's died
the fairie with no wings
the gnarled, lifeless tree
grass o'r grave's slight swell
the stream that's choked with bracken
the sound of empty shells
the sweetness of the voice
that sings the doom'd femme
the consumptive Mimi
in Puchini's La Boheme
butterflies on velvet
stricken, gently spread
affixed with a pin
tho lovely, they are dead
the vampire is so sensual
tho their victims end is dreer
the eye that is the brightest blue
always sheds the tear
SoulSurvivor
(C) 2014
Mar 7, 2015
Mar 7, 2015 at 8:35 AM UTC
~~~¡>¡<¡~~~
*chrystophaise beauty
amorphous
night
phosphorous
lanterns
creating your
light
feather'd antenni
soft golden
eyes
a fairie
a wraith
a mask of
disguise
animate jewel
gently you
swoon
sentient sweetness
breath of the
moon
in the
somnbulent
silence
you
sing
exquisite
Luna moth
TRANCE
on the
WING*
soulsurvivor
6/14/2015
Jun 15, 2015
Jun 15, 2015 at 1:51 AM UTC
I could see all neith the flowing dress she wore,
though the moon played its tricks on my eyes that night.
Curled red hair flowing like waves upon the shore,
yet could not hide her fairie wings from my sight.
All night I lay with her on the woodland floor.
We laughed and loved, though she was gone come daylight.
And each night since I've gone to the wood to find,
naught but a fairie ring did she leave behind.
Ottava Rima: Italian stanza form composed of eight 11-syllable lines, rhyming abababcc. It originated in the late 13th and early 14th centuries and was developed by Tuscan poets for religious verse and drama and in troubadour songs.
May 24, 2013
May 24, 2013 at 5:57 PM UTC
smooth
as marble
strangely warm
are her
alabaster arms
benieth
long bangs
a curve of grace
is her
piquant little
face
a waif-like
gamen little thing
she is a fairie
with no wings
a smudge
of feathers round
her head
she lies on tile
almost
dead
the world saw
her wounds and scars
but we don't
care unless they're
OURS
now her
pain is
in the
past
now
she
has
her
wings
at
last
(c) SoulSurvivor Aka
Write of Passage aka
Invisible inc
Feb 7, 2025
Feb 7, 2025 at 12:15 PM UTC
To see the world through fairie lens,
The scrying pool, the artist's pen,
To live in such a wond'rous world
Will feed the lover's soul, unfurled,
Will free the heart to catch the moon
Will start romantic hearts to swoon.
So Percy, young and free at heart,
Who from his love was torn apart,
Walked the woods in shadowy gloom
Proclaiming death of love, and doom,
When stepped he into fairy ring
And heard the satyrs ***** sing.
He watched the dryads flow'ry dance.
He saw the fairie happ'ly prance.
And in the midst of this he met
A vision out of Heaven sent
In form of twinkling, thoughtful eyes
And skin as clouds that grace the skies,
Skin much softer than the wind, and smooth
As stone that's by the water, grooved.
By magic fire a dance began.
By this spell, lost was the young man.
With eyes the color of the sea,
Began to court the fairy sweet,
Did Percy, past his other love.
By one touch from enchanted glove
Worn on hand of Percy's goddess
His heart did swoon and heave his chest.
That night the pair was lost in song
And Percy laughed and loved 'ere long.
At light of dawn the blue eyed youth
Received a kiss that spoke of truth
From elven maid, enchanted.
By the sun the fairie panted,
Shrinking from the light of morning,
And vanished fast, without warning.
Percy, in the wake of magic
Was abandoned. Feeling tragic
He lay prostrate upon the hill.
As days did pass he lay quite still
And slowly, overcome by woe,
He begged the Earth, upon him, grow
And take his weight, his sky blue eyes
And help his tortured soul to die.
Upon the spot where once he lay,
So aided by the sun and rain
Did grow a pair of flowers, blue.
The Earth had taken up the youth.
When one year passed, on Eve of Saints
They Fey returned, with colored paints.
The girl who danced with Percy, young,
When all the singing had begun
Did find blue petals, growing strong
And wove them in her hair, so long.
Nov 6, 2011
Nov 6, 2011 at 9:16 PM UTC
Fairies are beautiful
Green and sparkling
Free and flying
Fires are dangerous
Burning and soaring
Disastrous and deadly
Fairies and fires dont mix
Both can't fit in one soul
Let me sparkle as i burn you whole
Lust and sin
Beauty with a grin
Everything i am is the devil
Give me the torch
I'll set you to scorn
In a fire with your horns
Watch me drop the torch
I'll burn with you
I'm disgusting too
Anger thrashes heavily
Selfishness sins in secret
Darkness i must protect
Too afraid to let it out
Dark shadows within skin
Screaming to let swim
Different on the outside
Not fairie nor fire
Just evil with desire
Dec 28, 2018
Dec 28, 2018 at 4:05 AM UTC
*my organs in a snapshot
//*
i might rip my lungs out because you’ve become my every
breath, and i can hardly deal with ache in my chest. is it love?
everyone can tell that i am different. everyone can tell that i’m
glowing and maybe it’s because of you, maybe it’s because the
two of us make something like starlight. you are the very
creation of every single constellation, you are my inspiration,
my oxygen, the very consolidation of truth.
you rip my heart out and bring it back moments later. it’s laced
with fairie lights and twinkles, and somehow it’s still whole.
you are the only person that has not torn it apart.
god, babe. no one i’ve met has made me want to sing the way
you make me want to sing. i’m resting my head against your
chest as we dance to our favourite mixtape. slow and sweet,
like maple syrup. it’s been almost three weeks and i know
exactly what this means. the butterflies in my stomach turn into
fireflies and they love you.
and now you’re thinking,
*baby, you’re golden,
baby, i’m holding
on to you.
baby you’re golden,
baby i’m holding
on.
baby, you’re golden
baby, you are,
you are,
you are...*
Mar 6, 2017
Mar 6, 2017 at 7:23 PM UTC
Farewell the hoped for wish
the dandelion fantasy of the woods
The falling waters cascading swirl
Good-bye, Adieu, O' fairie's shawl,
Where the butter cup rises and thereby sings
The Sun's warm promise, it's divine kiss
Where these fields grasp the breath of day
The winds sweep to the constant array
of vibrancy that is life's blessed state
here in these images remember well
The fallen bard, his spoken spell.
I hear the honey filled taverns calling
the blessed isle over the horizon
Seeks again this wandering soul to home
To the fields of the Sidhe to roam.
Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Mar 21, 2011
Mar 21, 2011 at 7:34 AM UTC
'Twas the way she said,
...be sure to call me, don't forget...
then turned off her phone,
3 days net
I cast her a line
will she bite or let free?
readily lost from mind
the bait was me!
Oh mused from her loving
her plaything, her joy.
I spat out love poemz
Less haste did annoy
Lifted kindred spirit,
no more wobe-gone for me
was but a lie from a Strom
too blinded to sea
"You and I are going to have
a great love affair."
Should have been warning
Foundeld on note in sunlight morning
I asked the project wood
It for-told me, "Why Bother?"
Alone in my room, to ration or despair
Ignore nature's warning,
'tis up to me, I declare.
Sealed my fate...
I'm strong, been here before,
I'm ready for this...this...this time winning!
FOOL
Her's unslaved, mine unscathed
night,
was just the begining!
Oh the joys,
Such sweetness up to the edge,
but not quite *****
As promised her lore
THE everything abash
Irie romming back,
gonna get IT,
this time?
Maybe mohr
The musing doest stop,
genuine dost frey,
Lovings subside
Betrayl dost pay
"It will melt your mind"
Were the last words I herd
all in due time
her torture, my absurd
Communicate?
Communicate she says?
Why were not those words
so heards
Whence whining and pining decays?
Hypocrispy so blatant
it must be ignored,
and the melt of the mind
gets restored
For it was up to me
All along on this journey
The most painful part
Is I always did see
This dance with the devil
The game of fairie,
My loves lorn lost
To the leanhaun shee
Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 12:00 AM UTC
—
neglect and respect do not rhyme,
**{will grant you one,
will give you none.
will demand one,
will send you some.
you poets,
always thinking
you can get away
with murdering
the English language.
***** of assonance,
you do not fool me,
I’ve killed a thousand
men’s “original”rhymes,
while you’ve been
fast sleeping,
they’ve been
fast seeping.
I’ll give you no quarter,
won’t spare a lousy dime,
my spare change,
is poet-unaffordable,
cheap suited hucksters.
work and ****
do rhyme.
you can be one,
if you do not
put in some.
work by day,
slave by night.
awake to the sun’s
inquiry, what have
you done for me
lately?
IF
all you have to show is this
scribbilus miscellaneous,
tear up your lice-ence,
poetic and DMV, you
ain’t going nowhere.
was branded by hot iron,
early on,
brandy channing.
your best nightmare,
guidance counselor,
extraordinaire,
great big fairie,
poseur, exposer,
m u r d e r e r
of awful poetry}**
WHAT,
what do you stand for?
Jun 26, 2020
Jun 26, 2020 at 3:34 PM UTC
There is a song that few have learned
That make the fairies dance
A secret spell that must be earned
That puts them in a trance
Late at night, when the moon is full
The queen will soon appear
All the fairies push and pull
In hopes of standing near
For tonight, the queen will choose a king
When the song is sung outloud
As all the fairies begin to sing
She passes through the crowd
They bow their heads as she walks by
But each one steals a glance
Their wings point high toward the sky
As the queen begins to dance
They sing her songs of romance
In the meadow where fairies dwell
Hoping the queen will give them a chance
As each one casts their spell
Her king is finally chosen
The queen has picked her king
The fairie's voices are frozen
'Til next time the fairies sing
Jan 9, 2013
Jan 9, 2013 at 9:14 AM UTC
Failing again
@ dear my friend
hearts call out
and meet
as wings to air
sacred fires
attempted care
fuel baby fuel
what dare we burn
what fear
have we learned
where have we gone
from fairie dares
of other hills
and wonder dales
wild things
with billowy sails
dream true enchantments
of spells and tales
creatures we claim
our own
imagining
we are never alone
wake wake
dear one
I know you
are home
Oct 1, 2012
Oct 1, 2012 at 11:04 AM UTC
smooth
as marble
strangely warm
are her
alabaster arms
benieth
long bangs
a curve of grace
is her
piquant little
face
a waif-like
gamen little thing
she is a fairie
with no wings
a smudge
of feathers round
her head
she lies on tile
almost
dead
the world saw
her wounds and scars
but we don't
care unless they're
OURS
now her
pain is
in the
past
*now
she
has
her
wings
at
last*
(c) soulsurvivor
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 3:03 AM UTC
Her name sounds like butterscotch
And she moves like a fairie
Whispering of whiskey kisses
And cooing like a songbird
Her laughter echoes in my ears
When I call her beautiful
She says my soul is lovely
And so is my poetry
If only she realized the power of her elfish grin
Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 11:20 PM UTC
Silence.
Emptiness.
Often an unusual thing here, that of silence.
Where as its welcoming, it's also consuming.
Your face, like a neon advertisement on a billboard, flashing messages.
Adornment.
Chastised between the whipping willow tree.
Then and now, through all of time and all of space.
In a very seldom looked upon way, we are all time travelers.
Destined forth between black holes and brilliant supernovas.
Sprinkled dose of fairie dust upon the imagination of a child.
Shame as we grow older we lose sight of that which imagination thrives.
A collective innocence of a generation.
A first kiss, a scraped knee.
How you felt one summer night long ago, while a storm rolled in and your favorite person in the whole universe pulled you close and kissed you as the sky broke.
Unleashing a powerful rainstorm, but you stood there.
Braced against the elements within love.
Maybe the answer to life isn't who your forever love will be, but how many little moments can you remember that are entirely worth remembering?
Apr 3, 2016
Apr 3, 2016 at 2:40 AM UTC
Nothing beats the
Bewilderment
The amazement
Being wonderstruck
From 500 thousand dandelions
In a field
Just me
Happy as can be
I'm rolling
I'm tumbling
The dandelions have taken hold of me
Behind a playground
Little ol me
Lost in the field
Momma's looking for me
Hours have passed
I'm not her daughter right now
I'm a fairie
And this is my land
My fun
My everything
The dandelions chose me
And nothing has the same beauty
As that sweet innocent bliss
From a simple thing
Like dandelions and me
Feeling free as a bee 🐝
Why can't I still be that happy
Jun 2, 2022
Jun 2, 2022 at 4:54 PM UTC
ice sculpture trees,
silhouetted against the sun,
scattered from Fairie
on cold winter winds
bear fruits of icicles
as they die
back into reality.
Mar 25, 2016
Mar 25, 2016 at 7:25 PM UTC
a cloud of dragonflies
softens the November air
with fluttering fireworks
of light-glinting gauze,
reality meshing into Fairie.
Dec 8, 2015
Dec 8, 2015 at 4:19 PM UTC
Marry me
Marry me
My shining beauty
Dance with me
Dance with me
On this spinning merry go round
I am a fairie
And you are a wizard
Together we make magic
In a world thats a blizzard
Shine with me
Shine with me
On top the moonlit sea
Run away
Run away
Together into the forest
I'll twinkle my wings
As you wave your wand
I'll never lose your reflection
In this glistening pond
Mar 31, 2019
Mar 31, 2019 at 12:36 AM UTC