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Cné Mar 2017
Sitting on a ****
Having a rest
Dreaming of wearing
A beautiful dress

Hair cascading
Red curly locks
Waste of time, who cares
There are no clocks

Awaiting a happening
With nothing in sight
Mischief merriment
Anything, even a fright

Breena, bored to death
'Tis true
Wanting only,
For something to do.
Wrote this for a painting I did of a red headed fairy sitting on a tree ****.
Shofi Ahmed Mar 2017
I
A flower that smells of pure bliss keeps an ear to the ground
It's a serene one sitting beneath the stars down on earth
The moon, far, far, seven seas away, loves to drop into her lap.

The Bay of Bengal billows, music has gotten beneath the skin.
The leaves furl out off the deep wood with the birds
singing out to the top of the trees, rhyming with the leafy dance.
Heavensent, that was in one sanguine day in the spring.
The Mother’s Language Movement in 1952 sprouted like this
on the eighth of native Falgun month—oh magic did it unleash!

On that day our beloved brothers were shot dead
They could swallow the bullets with smiles but won’t give up
demanding the official status for the Bangla mother tongue.
Angels wrapped round the martyrs amid lamenting mothers
Laid them on Falgun’s perfumed ground bleeding corpses
Seas of roses bloomed and blew them out red, red kisses!

They are gone not the stone wall of consciousness they raised
Ah, at the sprout of the spring what were they echoing?
Ingrained deep in the soil the pre-designing voice in the planning?
Who can tell? The world gels on February 21 in celebrating!

The angels then snapped up our martyrs’ souls off the land,
placed them on a piece of Heaven where they can hear the jingle.
Down on earth, a nation springs up, has gotten its wake up call!
Stepping on the sweetening arc of the mother tongue melody
the stone turns a flower, all in a butterfly moment soaring to victory.
Thanks to the movement - Bangladesh itself later comes to be!

II
The sun comes down to the rose painting on the land
In the heavenly Falgun hues it nibbles some wild summer dreams.
“Serene songs of earth stirring the water,” like it comes into play,
rowing the cloud bubbles singing in southern breeze.
Ah, a walk on the sun-kissed kaleidoscope land is a pure bliss.  
Every blossom spray of the wind is soothing sweet
Hop on and play straight to the ruby heart, as if it's a flute.

Mother tongue means speak free, fearless, in full streaming.
Speak the heart to the world without the fear of losing the cloud
that will listen, bouncing back on the brink of the sky river.
Then what did one say, hear, or was awed by in the blooming Falgun?
Could it have been the spring humming in her native lingua
or King David singing in mother tongue by babbling brooks
what in any other language, even with a silver tongue, isn’t possible?

Allah has listened to our martyrs’ crying mothers and fathers
The martyrs’ souls whisk through the galaxies and starry fair.

Soar high over the clouds, take the rainbow's *** of gold away,
Like a hue turns 360-degree in the colourwheel bask into the colour.
Still, dip the toes in Bangla mother’s soil salted with perfumed art
Like Himalayan water swirling down melting deeper deep down
This magicland is polished for everyone be it you, a fairy, a star
or off the ploughed-out barrow a walked out wonder!

A pristine voice duo’s voiceprint gleans to the spring in muse,
Pops in a beauteous scurry and speaks in the mother tongue!
Hidden within the earthy depth, only emerges with time,
only dances in tangent, that day slipped out with the butterflies.
And finally the blue nymphs take the plunge drop down the sky  
That day the mother’s voice triumphed, whose is the most original!
This is a poem from my book Zero and One available on Amazon.
Anya Jul 2018
The maiden so fair
In all her grace
The gold leaf in her hair
And snow pedaled face
Night and day we sing
In elegant song
A rhyme to our queen

      And look Oberon!!!!!
Acrostic poem that correlates with another
Josiah Israel Jul 2017
Deep in a magic forest, with big old magic trees
And all the magic creatures that live inside of these

There is a magic island, upon a magic lake
And on the island stands a stool, the like no man could make

And on the stool from dawn to dusk, resides a little man
Who spends his days in deeper thought, than any mortal can…

How does he think so many thoughts, well you must realize,
That though the man is small, his head is twice the normal size.

And as for food, well first of all he quite likes eating bugs
Beetles spiders, grass hoppers, slimy snails and salty slugs!

Inside his beard he keeps a hive, so honey he can eat,
And sips the dew from roses, which he grows atop his feet…

And when the night time brings the cold, the old man doesn't care
He simply covers up, with all his long and tangled hair!

Regardless of his oddities, the man is still renowned,
For being quite the wisest man, who never can be found.
This poem was told to me by a young Fairy on the road to a Wishing Well near my house.
jane taylor May 2016
enchanted fairy

land upon my windowsill

oh thou mystical

tell me there’s another realm

profer me escape

©2016janetaylor
Ash Rose Mar 2017
If only we could run away
To a land where no one hurts.

How quickly I would go to stay
Unnoticed but never alone.
Real life isn't like the movies:
Too bad, I think to myself, the
Starry skies gazing down at me.

Love, the bittersweet enemy of mine,
Idolized and envied by the naive.
Keeping quiet, my heart screams with
Equal feelings of hate and anger.

How easy it is to see the impact
Everlasting, the way they tear down my
Life; yet without that hidden place to hide in, the
Land beneath our feet falls apart.
Randy Bryte Aug 2016
My Fairy Tale Life Is Over
And I just can't believe it's true
My world is collapsing and falling apart
I feel lost, I feel lonely and blue
Maybe its a nightmare and soon I will open
My eyes to the way that we were
Loving and caring and helping each other
So happy, so safe, and secure
If I am dreaming, and our love we still share
I'll wake her with kiss and desire
She'll pull me in deep and whisper so soft
Her voice sets my heart on fire
I waited my life she was always the one
But now I am empty and I'm coming undone
My Fairy Tale Life is over
And reality is driving insane
The beautiful colours that were filling my eyes
Have now blackend and filled up with pain
The stereo sounds that once tickled my ears
Now screech with guilt I succumb
My soft touch for her is no longer needed, my fingers are useless and numb
My Fairy Tale Life Is Over I fear
I feel dead, alone, and afraid
For I am the reason it's come to the end
And my life is the price I have paid
Nassif Younes Mar 2016
Something has kicked the fairy out of me.

I’m not sure when
Or how
But she’s definitely gone.

I used to think in images
But they’ve all been rolled up
And folded into words.
I can’t remember the last time
I remembered a dream.
Any colder and I will start referring to her
As my right-brain.
I need to find my fairy.

She will have glided off like light rain with the wind
Across the meadows
And over the mountains.
She will have washed her face with the spray of every ocean
And rested on a pillow of clouds
Where every side
Is the cool side.
Right now she could be licking icicles
From the roof of a rainbow cave.

Have you seen her?
She’s about yea high
With glittered skin
And a smile disarming
As a hydrogen bomb.

I’m starting to give up
And fall into fantasy about what it will be like
When I find her.
When all the squares will tilt over
And roll themselves into circles,
When words will abandon their meaning
With a sigh of relief
Before floating off the ground
And into the stars.

We will blow smoke rings to form coronas around each other’s bodies
Which will carry us away like bubbles.
I will swallow her laughter
Sweeter than all the magic flutes on earth
And let it sparkle in my mouth
Until all my teeth are dissolved
And grown back
In a world that forgives the indulgent
And savours the childish.

And then…
Oh…
There she is.
muna Dec 2017
you're scared.
because you've always lived
in a fantasy you made up
inside your head;

too scared to step out
and walk in your glass slipper;
too scared to go bare feet
on broken glass.

you were Cinderella
in your daydreams.
you thought and you hoped
that real life worked like fairy tales.

you stayed inside your carriage
and you dreamt.
but could you fly on the backs
of those wingless dreams?

no, not when midnight came
and they began to vanish;
not when your carriage disappeared;
your world.

then, struck by darkness,
you trip and fall into life's abyss,
and your glass slipper shatters;
your heart.
All those fairy tales are full of it.
Traveler Oct 2018
How could I ever just simply let you go?
Your beautiful smile that forges
Has now imprinted upon my restless soul
The warm soft glow in your wandering
Bedroom eyes
Your radiant shooting star charm
The chase could never die
Dearest Dark Fairy
Darkness 'til dawn
Shrouded in sparkles
When I catch you it's on!

......




Thanks Santita
For your beautiful friendship!!!!!
Traveler Tim
You inspired me to write!!!!
Sunflower Girl Mar 2016
Every* place you look becomes bright
Shade and color enveloped in your soul
Of light, of dark, of chaotic serenity
You irrefutably remain
Is there any thing more
*Beautiful
Shofi Ahmed Jun 2017
Like a southern song singing on a dream scene.
a smooth fairy dance facing the Moon
a thrill of exposing Stonehenge once and for all
a melodious raindrop in the serene pond
a butterfly dance on the rose
a turned on tall tale of the blue peacock
Like a pure belief in heaven without a pinch of salt!
Apple on a Rose Jul 2017
Am I self-sabotaging
is that what this is?
when my minds telling me he's good for me
but my heart wants to resist.
Am I truly in this
Like actually wanting to see where it goes?
He'll tell everyone he is
Even willing to propose.
But what if the feeling isn't mutual,
Just a sick game, manipulated insides?
All of the doubts, thoughts and confusion are drowning
Yet there's nowhere to hide.
I'm expected more of,
And people awe at all we have
Yet how much of it is real
How much of it is fact.
Is it a fact I love you?
Or a fact I thought I did?
Is it real we're meant to be?
Or did we just take our largest bid?
Is there something here?
That's not make belief?
Or is it all a matter of our imagination
A story line we confuse for life?
Or is this actual fact, feeling and love.
That I am just unable to reciprocate.
Despite believing I should.
Is this the fairy-tale people hope for
The fairy-tale I misunderstood.
Donna Sep 2018
There once was a Fairy
Who lived in a magical world
Her sweet name was Mary
And she loved to be held

She loved to watch the stars
Twinkle brightly at night
Even though afar
They were a great sight

She watched the dusky sun
Rise early every morning
Whilst the birds would have fun
And humans were yawning

She skipped over lakes
Making the lake waters laugh
And fishes would wake
And give Mary a jacuzzi bath

She flew with Butterflies
And Dragonflies too
They ate custard pies
And egg foo foo

She made her own dress
From red autumn leaves
She was nicknamed The Best'
By all the lovely trees

She wore spaghetti hoops
In her long golden hair
And jumped through potholes loops
To explore natures flair

She'd slide down mountains
Rainbows as well
She brewed coffee in fountains
And rang a lunch time forest bell **
Fun fairy story x
Kathryn Rose Mar 2018
Don't you dare speak those words.

You know exactly what they will do,
to you,
and to him.

There will be no more
you and him.

Like the peach blossoms
broken from the delicate, young branches,
the verbal hail storm,
the weight of the ice,
will knock him to the frozen ground.

Raw,
Unsure how much affection he can return,
of how his own whirling thoughts fit with yours.
Your tale, far from fairy, will end.

Your open heart will shrivel,
like the salty sardines you left on the wooden picnic table
in the burning sun.

You will regret your thoughts and
you will regret your feelings,
but know, sadly, there was nothing left to do,
but leave too soon.
Limbotheclown Jan 2018
" I close my eyes and I see you, I've sketched you in my mind. Every detail I feel you. Our ties you can't unbind.  Your lips I drew like ruby's, eyes of diamonds and gold. I long to scream the whispers  of the story, your heart has told. Its much like a fairy tale, its love you cannot bend..but also like a fairy tale, I hope its happy in the end. "
Kevin J Taylor Oct 2015
Her bags were packed, left by the door. She looked away waiting for her ride to come. Waiting.

You met her on a holiday. You can’t recall who else was there. She’s moved along and left you holding empty air. Empty rooms and empty halls fill the days you've lost count of and left an empty bed alone beside you.

You met her one late-summer day, or was it autumn, who can say? Like falling leaves you fell one for the other. The mornings were the best of all. The evenings melted into dawn and dawn again.

And then one day she said goodbye. Without a word, she said goodbye. Her eyes had someone else inside. You asked yourself when this all started.

Now every girl you see instead, and every time you turn your head, and all the names on every street, the colors of the sky at night, your bed at dawn, days pass you by, whatever tells you you’re alive tells you that you’re dead inside.

You keep her pillow by your own, wake up late each afternoon but still you wake up as alone. And then one day you've cleared your mind, you bring her back and let her slide away again.

Now mornings fade from grey to green, and somewhere in the days between you catch an eye, she catches you and spends a night or maybe two. The hallway and the living room, the shower and the kitchen floor, what else had they existed for?

Now every smell of every flower, every early morning shower and all the songs on every street, the colors of the sky at night, her kiss at dawn, the rising light, whatever tells you you’re a man tells you you’re alive again. Yet stories like this never end like fairy tales.

And every smell of every flower, every early morning shower, and all the songs on every street, the colors of the sky at night, her kiss at dawn, the rising light, whatever tells you you’re a man tells you you’re alive again, at least until this fairy tale is over.
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I'd love to collaborate with someone(s) to create a song from this poem.

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Not all poems survive. I've lost a few and let others go. My current collection of poems is available on Kindle. It is called "3201 e's" (that is approximately how many e's are in the manuscript which is a very unpoetic title but a reflection on the creation of poetry from common things.)
September Roses Jun 2018
Go asphyxiate yourself

On your dilusional thought of love
One day you'll find the one

And all your problems will dissolve

Your happily ever after

The true perfect match
that you cant spend a waking hour without dreaming of how much they mean to you

Grow old with
Every second of your life as long as you both shall live

Scrap book with and share vows of love
Love
   Love

Your fairy tail ending with your Cinderalla and Prince Charming

Search for the eternal solution to loneliness

Your soulmate
     Your other half

True love will set you free


Is that right?



Go **** yourself
Kenya83 Feb 2017
You barged right in with not a care in the world
Of how deeply I'd fall and hit the ground
I knew I'd fell, for I hurt inside
But I could still be falling, there's no end in sight
Like Alice in a wonderland nothing seems quite right
Still I drink your potion readily and prepare to hold on tight
I catch you in my dream hoping you'll stay the entire night
My subconscious has a knowing, I'll be alone by morning light
Every time I get back up and dust myself down
You just steamroll right back through me, knocking me out
My palms left sweaty my mouth left dry
As I wonder if my feelings can lie
For here things aren't what they always appear
The pain of unknowing is my only fear
So, for now, your seas have calmed
And your storm has settled down
Left me cold and windswept
With droplets on my brow
I'll do what I must to do for now
For when night time falls again
I'll be back in my beautiful nightmare
Where you think of me now and then
Deb Jones Sep 2017
The moon floats over the meadow
Chasing the shadows of twilight back to their mossy hallows

The silvery flush of nightfall
Shimmers in the air

When the curtain between
The seen and the unseen world
Is nothing more than a gauzy veil

Then the fairy folk emerge
From beneath their leafy stalks

And caper around the meadow
Where no mortal walks
I was hiking with some friends and came across a small clearing just as it was getting dark. And I thought if fairies were real they would live there.
Shofi Ahmed Mar 25
Just a moment with a rose
that may come with a dew or so!
Ah, thousand and one fairy nymphs
wait for that sweet mo.

That moment painting the sky all blue
the sun hanging low
down the cool rainbow
will roll into an upspring water drop.

Oh, save a dew on the rose
if only one knew from
what a spring does it float!
Jen Dec 2018
It all started
So light,
Until I heard
A voice barely say,
“Welcome to the Dark Fairy Tale,
Run for your life."

Then these thoughts
Crossed my mind,
The warning signs
Were all there,
I should have turned
Back at the masquerade ball;
Pulled off the mask,
Face revealed,
Smell of her
Perfume in
Your hair.

Kept the truth
Locked up with
Gingerbread
And sparkle dust,
"Love."

Trapped
In a toxic tale;
Couldn't sleep,
The Gothic prince
Took my hand
So charmingly,
And said, "Come with me..."
He spun me round' and
Swept me off my feet,
Until I fell to the
Floor and couldn't
See.

Cinderella Dream;
Coated with Candy Cream,
It was all fun and games,
Until I realized his
Premeditated plans
To take away
All the best parts
Of me.

Poison apple
Portrayal
Forever
Frozen in
Glass frame
Would be
An unlikely
Ending.
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