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Andrea Diaz Jun 2012
And as fairy tales go,
This one was the best

The Story of a silly-dark-brown haired girl
Who never strayed too far away from strange.
And of a short-light-brown haired boy
Who was nothing but strange.  
A pair of star-crossed strangers
Who never realized how strange they were

And as far was fairy tales go,
This one made no sense,

You see the silly girl and the strange boy looked everywhere for someone as strange as they were
They looked everywhere for the person at the end of the red string
But whenever they saw each other,
Deny
   Deny
      Deny
Blinded by their strange ways,
They looked pass one another
And didn’t stop to find each other.

And as far as fairy tales go
This one has no end.

An infinite loop of separations,
         And meetings
Denying everything in between.
They may go on to their separate ways
And meet once again,

But as far as fairy tales go,
This one was the best…

Because there are infinite chances to always meet,
And someday soon,
Their fates will intertwine,
Together forever,
           Is the best ending line.
Over hill, over dale,
    Thorough bush, thorough brier,
  Over park, over pale,
    Thorough flood, thorough fire,
    I do wander everywhere,
    Swifter than the moonè’s sphere;
    And I serve the fairy queen,
    To dew her orbs upon the green:
    The cowslips tall her pensioners be;
    In their gold coats spots you see;
    Those be rubies, fairy favours,
    In those freckles live their savours:
  I must go seek some dew-drops here,
And hang a pearl in every cowslip’s ear.
Shiv Pratap Pal May 2019
Tom **** and Harry
Met a lovely fairy
She asked - 'How do you do?'
They said – 'Why should we tell you?"
How do we do?

Fairy gave a Smiling look
'There is a nice reason
I can fulfil all your wish'
Tom said – 'We don't do'
God does everything'

Fairy was impressed
Tom became happy
So was ****
Fairy winked and smiled
Harry Got Mad

Harry decided to Marry
Beautiful lovely fairy
He said – 'Fulfil my wish.
Marry me and be my Bride'
Fairy got angry, lost her temper

She threw them all
They all had a great fall
It happened all of a sudden
They found themselves fallen from bed
Now they understood clearly

Whatever they saw was just a dream
Both Tom and ****
Started beating Harry
They Kicked and Punched
Harry was so sad

He was not that bad
He realised, said sorry
He also touched his ears
But when he turned his pillow
Found a pleasant Red Rose

Soon Tom and ****
Turned their pillows
Found nothing at all
Now they turned to Harry
Knelt down and felt sorry


A Fairy Tale
jeremy wyatt Mar 2011
Mali the tabby was out for stroll, the evening sun was easing down and her whiskas biscuits were gone from her tummy, at least enough for her to feel like some activity was justified.
The meadow over the big wall smelled good, flowers and warmth and enough life flying around to interest a playful hunter, she mused to herself.
Up! Over the wall in a single fluid action, unaware how perfect she always flowed, like oil on marble.
Into the wee forest, tall flowers, watch the stingy plants, rub her cheeks on the sweet ones to stake her claim, then off to butterflies and fun!
Wait though, what is this smell?
Warm and young, hmm.. her instincts kicking in, she crept belly-flat to the source of the scent. Something like a wee rabbit, those yucky things! This was different,  this was small and alone, and still in a grass hollow.
She quietly put her graceful neck out, and opened her mouth to grasp and taste,
but leapt back as a shadow fell beside her, and she jumped again as a touch was upon her head. She struck quickly, but only got air and grass.
Breathing hard she reversed till she saw her challenger, something like her human, but tiny, with a bright silver thing in her hand and.....wings?...

Mali here I stand with you
in this field beneath the blue
I feel your huntress heart inside
but if you leap I will not hide
Take a mouse or take a rat
chase a rabbit brown and fat
but if you try to hurt my hare
you had better take some care
I guard them with my fairy kind
the young ones here for me to mind
and to you in this pleasent field
I promise you I will not yield
The hares are age old fairy friends
and to the last we will defend
so Mali think on this a while
make a choice and make me smile

Mali thought for a wee while, washing her mouth, watching this wee creature from under her half-closed eyelids. So, this was a fairy...well she smelled nice, and reninded her off her little human children who loved to play. Hmmm...

I'm sorry that I came to fast
with thought of food a sweet repast
now here I see you small and strong
to fight you would be hard and long
so let us make a pact today
in this field you let me play
we can learn to always share
the meadow fairy cat and hare
what duty hares have done for you
I cannot guess but hold it true
that when you claim to hold them dear
I shall repect them always here

Leipsha the wee fairy took her turn to think, she knew the cat was honest, all tabbies tell the truth and this one smelt kind for a cat..

Come then now we have a deal
but think we need something to seal
our words of grace we swapped today
and cats of all the creatures play
So follow me across the hill
we will have a chase and thrill
meet the hares and watch them run
race them and enjoy the fun

So when in the lowland meadow you see
hares and tabby cat running free
squint and look close all around
for a fairy is guarding them on the ground
cheryl love Apr 2015
The ladybird laughed her spots off
When the fairy of the party like never before
Approached her – she let out a false cough
Before opening her shiny red door..
“Are you coming “ asked the fairy fiddling with a wing?
“My spots are not on properly today, so I cannot”
Replied the ladybird lying through her back teeth
Why she had said that or why but then she had forgot.
“I have short term memory loss” said the ladybird
“That is it not the spots you see it’s why I cannot come”
The fairy was confused; she’d been up all night
And was not as bright and cheerful as some.
You mean that you don’t want to give it a whirl
Paint the town red and all that jazz, her hair was a mess
She picked up a bone from the floor to make her hair curl
And thought she’d visit the spider to get a new dress.
She called on the spider, her trusty dressmaker
She sat on a load of silk that had been made by the spider
She bounced on it and took a liking to it
And sweet talked the black creepy silk provider.
“When you look at me with those eyes, it sends shivers down my spine”
The spider shook a little with the inevitable quiz
“I need a dress to party through the night and more than that
I want something that stands out makes the wings whizz”.
The spider had no choice but to do as she instructed
He had fallen in love with the blue eyes that slept all day
She had began to spin out the thread like it was as easy as pie
Besides which it is much easier to give in do it to obey.
Once again the fairy of the party like never before
Was ready and raring to dance till the sun shone again
She frog marched her clan to the bright lights
The night was going to be anything but mundane.
There is a tale so very old
Of an ancient Fairy King
Older than the world we know
Named Ochna-amadring

He's not been seen for many years
No-one knows if he is dead
There are clues about him though
This is how the legend has been fed

He was present when King Arthur
Took the sword out of the stone
Arthur, he was special
But, could not do that alone

His magic is eternal
He rules the fairy world and more
No one knows if he is living
Or what he has in store

He lives deep in the English woods
That is what they say
It is there that he met Merlin
And Morgan Le Fay

He's lived a thousand lifetimes
Or two, nobody knows
He sailed here with the Vikings
To escape the northern snow

You see his painted magic
Every year upon the leaves
The colors ever changing
Quite a tapestry he weaves

He has many fairy children
Not as cunning or as wise
They are seen by many people
They don't hide from mortal eyes

The Fairy Elder is a legend
Is he real or just a tale
Many search to find him
And in the end, they always fail

Leave the magic for the fairies
Never ask exactly how
The fairy magic is accomplished
Shh...he may be near you now
Àŧùl Jan 2017
The fairy flew like a dried leaf,
Way beyond the red coral reef,
It flew unto its fairy mom.
The mom was unlike other fairies,
For it is red in colour & has horns,
It also has a pointed fairy tail..
For it is the Devil's own fairy agent!!!
A fairy tale ruined wickedly.

My HP Poem #1363
©Atul Kaushal
read this to your children its a tale that you can tell all about a fairy and a wishing well
its all about a leopard who one day lost his spots so off to the fairy the poor leopard trots. she took him to the well
to get his spots returned so he could be happy again thats all the leopard yearned.
and as he made his wish in to the wishing well. the fairy waved her wand and cast a magic spell.
when the spell was finished she made him count to ten. when the leopard looked his spots were back again
Mike Hauser Sep 2018
this company is heading straight to the top
with our new improved line of fairy farts
soon our catch phrase will be all over the place
a slight touch of magic in a jar

first and foremost a disclaimer though
in the making of farts not one fairy was harmed
we house and feed, take care of their every need
so there's no need for alarm

once we discovered how the ***** could be used
down here on fairy farm
we've had all our men chase after them
capturing bottom barks into a jar

then by hand we transfer them
from pint up to gallon size
to be used all the way from laundry detergent
to a line of makeup that's soft on the eyes

we even have samples of candles
bath and body works just bought the whole lot
plus it runs machines cheaper than gasoline
so far the highest bid is from Exon

we're also in talks of a contract
with a highly secretive govern(mental) agency
who wants all the gas with no questions asked
but on that we'll have to wait and see

in the mean time our workers continue to bottle it up
all the fairy farts from all the fairy butts
it's a job that flatuates deep to the heart
but with this job what's not to love

as you watch the fairies flutter to and fro
hearing the cute little ***** wherever they go
who would have guessed who could have known
how much a business like this would grow
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
cheryl love Oct 2013
Are you real Fairy Godmother
When I was a child, my wishes came true.
So as I approach the twilight of my years
I have a proposal to put before you.

When I was a child I always thought of others,
At Christmas the joy for me was smiles on faces.
But always knowing that there was someone suffering
Amongst poverty, hardship and unsafe places.



My dad taught me to work hard, enjoy life
Knuckle down with plenty of elbow grease.
But at night I always prayed for everyone
Wishing and hoping for happiness and peace.

So dear Fairy Godmother, I know you have powers
To help all sick and suffering people, whoever they may be
This is my one and only wish, if it may be granted
To heal everyone, put smiles back and everyone pain free.
Lunar Apr 2016
and they don't call him a garden fairy without a reason. the garden fairy secretly visits his favorite place in the world, every morning and night. his smile, like the warm morning sun, makes the flowers grow. his deft hands, like water, caress the young floral buds, quenching the thirst. his feet walk through the weeds, turning them into blossoms. his fingers, like the wind, skim the blades of high grass, without his flesh being cut. his voice, like growth nutrients, nurtured the changing. he never failed to tend to his garden that it was so taken care of, it flourished under his love. both the garden fairy and his garden bloomed in every season imaginable, in every time of the day, month and year. she was his garden, and he was her garden fairy.
to my child who still enjoys playing with the flowers and the gardener whom she dearly loves.
kayla morrison May 2014
We are not a fairy tale,
we will never be a fairy tale.

We are not Romeo and Juliet,
Troilus and Cressida
Cinderella and prince charming.

We are not a happy ending,
fairytale ending
perfect ending.

We are not the embodiment of
true love,
loose love,
new love.

But we are love,
our love.

I am not perfect,
I will never be perfect.
I’m not a princess
but sometimes you call me princess

and you are not a prince,
but I guess….
I would call you my prince.

I’ve come to realize
without Disney’s eyes
that

Drunk and throwing up,
I was there for you
sick and sniffling
I was there for you
stressed and upset I was there for you
through it all, and to it all I was there for you
and I will always be there for you.

Just like you
were there for me
last minute, late, losing your mind
still there for me.
feeling hurt, me making it worse,
still there for me.

We are not love,
we are not a fairy tale
but we are our own fairy tale.

One that might not have a happy ending wedding,
but one I’m proud to be a part of,
so until the end,
if we end,
I will close my eyes and
I won’t pretend.

Because my prince who is not a prince,
makes me happy.

And being his princess
is the biggest honor a non-Disney girl can get.
cheryl love Oct 2014
This fairy most definitely I’d call an imp
She’s out for anything to beg, steal or borrow.
She’d think nothing of actually buying stuff
Because she is the Fairy of Tomorrow.

Also known as the fairy of second hand rose
Nothing is her own, and never will be
If she can borrow it she will and sort of keep it
Notwithstanding it has no guarantee.

Second hand rose, but then again she is smart
Best fairy shoes and decent frilly lacy dress
She doesn’t have a friend so that is okay
Meaning she has no one to impress.

Which is quite sad in a way, everyone has friends
But not her she has never had one, that’s true
An assessment of her social circle, one could say
Is under scrutiny and is long overdue.

She’s not bothered, she gets by
She is happy enough and whistles all of the day
She has plenty of shiny coins in her drawer
And has plenty of treasure stashed away.

She is no fool, this Fairy of Tomorrow
Nothing wrong with being a second hand rose
She is in fact quite wealthy; the others are unaware
Even though she wears other fairies clothes
cheryl love Aug 2014
APPLE BLOSSOM

This tiny fairy, let us say has attitude.
Most little things get on her pip!
Sitting amongst fragrant blossom
Is not nice, no pleasure trip.
She has to put up with frilly petals
Leaves and the odd red spider.
It is the constant supply of buds
That to her is the decider.
She would like to go and pray
With the other fairies at the chapel
Not sitting amongst blossom
Waiting for the inevitable apple.
But as with all other fairies
She has her work to do, her duty
To sit there all pink and frilly
Feeling fresh and very fruity.
She tirelessly waits, and she waits
For the blossom buds to flower.
Then it is another waiting game
For the apples to appear very sour.
She once considered jumping ship
And sitting with the Fairy of the Douglas fir
But after some serious and careful thought
Decided that it would not really appeal to her.
But she is happy I suppose
But still would like to alter direction
Is it little wonder then that this Fairy
Has such a rosy red complexion.
Marian Aug 2014
The fairy of the midnight moon
She hides in those luminescent rays
Her wings are made of gossamer
Accented with beads and glitter
The fairy of the summer's moon
Wears honeysuckles in her hair
She dances upon the tops of trees
Smiling from her haven in the stars
Is it any wonder that she is bright
After all she lives hidden amongst
The same stars you see each night
For she's the fairy of the twilight moon

*~Marian~
Just a little thank you poem to Cheryl love
Who most kindly wrote a poem for me today!! :) ~~~~<3
Thank you, Cheryl, and I hope you like this...
Here's my fairy poem for you!!! ~~~<3
Enjoy!!! ~~~<3
Donna Jul 2018
So there she was I
knew I saw Jennifer the
fairy in the sky

O she twinkled bright
left happy zig zags flowers
floating so freely

Anyway as I
sunbathed whilst dean fished ,I saw
a big willow tree

Oh my he looked like
had the **** , Jennifer made
his eyes go bosseyed!

She was trying to
round up the dragonflies but
they kept flying off

I was observing
as usual eating a cheese
and tomoto roll

Jennifer was bored
again so she surfed across
the pond racing the

mallards and swans , her
tiny wings tried to keep up
but she had slowed down

But Jennifer was
not going to lose , she loved
to win always..it

was a problem she
had since she was born , her best
friend Peter the Snail

told her on many
occasions to lose is not
a bad thing it can

be a good thing as
well , but she'd much to learn
For now she wanted

to win, she fired
her bow and arrow and hit
a passing carp fish

All of a sudden
The carp turned into a
dragon , she jumped on

his back and both raced
through the sky towards Mr
Willow who was still

in a grumpy mood
but I could actually see
a twinkle in his

eye , he waved his long
arms in the air , Jennifer
and the dragon

had won the race , the
swans and mallards huffed and puffed
not happy with her

winning , I looked at
her and smiled , by now my big
toe was hurting me

And Deans fishing rod
was bleeping , he had caught a
carp, but oh no it

wasn't a carp it
was a dragon,  Jennifer
had forget to turn

him back into a
carp , wooo me and dean run as
fast as we could back

to van where he drove
like a maniac to dodge
the dragon who once

was a carp , as I
looked out the rear window I
could see Jennifer

giggling , she was
riding the dragon with her
bow and arrow , I

thought to myself she's
a mischievous fairy
And I just smiled wide

I got home quickly
and me and dean had salad
and a nice cold drink

Dean still can't believe
we got chased by a dragon
Maybe one day I

shall tell him about
Jennifer the fairy and
I bet he'd smile too

:)
Just quickly wrote this I used my imagnation to make a story about my fairy called Jennifer she popped up in my mind again , was inspired at fishing trip today xxxxxx
Have a lovely week and soz if I don't get to read you all I'm getting married in 3 weeks so life is hectic **
Lv u all take cares <3
johnny solstice Jun 2019
In my fairy garden
the bubbles fly so high
they blow into the atmosphere
and neutralise the sky

My fairy bubbles help my skin
they soften and they glow
they transmutate the sea-life
till extinction bids them "Go"

My lovely fairy bubbles
take my washday blues away
they saunter down my plughole
and drift into the bay

They poison and they modify
with each outgoing tide
They brighten up the logos
in the land of paranoid

Well my whites are so much whiter
since I bought my fairy friend
I give no **** for politics
I flush it round the bend

My clothes must be the cleanest
like the ones on my T.V.
A speck of dust a fleck of mud
is social leprosy

So lets all use our faries
and wash our blues away
let's forget about the ocean
and the price that we must pay

As the sea-life gets much rarer
from the toxic fairy sludge
ask yourself some questions
give your conscience a little nudge

This is the land of plenty
for all and not just one
Your cleaning and your preening
are blotting out the sun

"......for hands that do dishes
may one day grab your throat....
....buy Mind-Need-Fancy-Snake-****....."
cheryl love Jun 2013
This tiny fairy, let us say has attitude.
Most little things get on her pip!
Sitting amongst fragrant blossom
Is not nice, no pleasure trip.
She has to put up with frilly petals
Leaves and the odd red spider.
It is the constant supply of buds
That to her is the decider.
She would like to go and pray
With the other fairies at the chapel
Not sitting amongst blossom
Waiting for the inevitable apple.
But as with all other fairies
She has her work to do, her duty
To sit there all pink and frilly
Feeling fresh and very fruity.
She tirelessly waits, and she waits
For the blossom buds to flower.
Then it is another waiting game
For the apples to appear very sour.
She once considered jumping ship
And sitting with the Fairy of the Douglas fir
But after some serious and careful thought
Decided that it would not really appeal to her.
But she is happy I suppose
But still would like to alter direction
Is it little wonder then that this Fairy
Has such a rosy red complexion.
Traveler Mar 2013
Deep within an enchanted forest out pass a gypsy town, many strange beings are known to dwell beyond our sight and sound. Upon their horizon it’s as if time stands still; still time bends to no one’s will. Here sweet dreams spring forth from magical mushrooms and enchanted daffodils.

She was a pretty little fairy with beautiful large exaggerated eyes of blue, transparent wings and sparkles trailed behind her as she flew. She was but one of the many brilliant lights that roamed the hillsides late at night, yet merely a fussy glow in our human sight. Her name was Lilly: she was curious, witty and very much in her fairy prime; I apologize for speaking in riddles and rhymes but only the young at heart can see her and her kind.

Although this is a story about a fairy, technically it breaks the fairytale rules because unfortunately this story is true …

Lilly possessed a restless soul; she was tightly wound and always ready to go. Patience was her heart’s greatest foe. She loved to surf the summer breeze like a robin soaring free, past the hills and beyond the swamps filled with reeds just to see what she might see.

One day she flew a bit too far and as she would often do, she began to dilly-dally; little did she know she wandered smack-dab into Witches Valley. She didn’t notice anything out of the norm as the sun ducked behind the Silver-Lined Clouds of Truth; but for those who reside in this region such was the ritualistic passage of the end of youth.

Suddenly the shadow began to whisper and the wind began to blow; the weeping willows danced about and out of the shadows came forth two eyes aglow. To flight her spirit beckoned her yet her curiosity took its toll; something reached out and touched her with an embrace that quenched her restless soul. Waves of pleasure through her body flowed; she had never felt so alive or so comfortable in her own skin: with rosy cheeks and glassy eyes she bid the shadow “please touch me again.” That day she lost her way, trapped in this overwhelming perpetual thrill; far beyond the measure of magical mushrooms and enchanted daffodils. Things were set in motion and Lilly would never again be the same; time sped up on her horizon and here her destiny changed. When she flew sparkles no longer followed in her trail, and her very own people began to refer to her as the Nightingale.

At first it seemed Lilly had been awakened into a constant dream but then she began to miss her home, the majestic hills of gold and green. She longed for the sparkles that would trail behind her flight and her people who were now but fussy glowing lights.

Perhaps Lilly was bewitched by the shadow and his overwhelming touch, yet inadvertently time catches us in it’s clutch. Lilly slowly lost the magic of her youth and my eyes no longer glow. As for Lilly and I, she left me for a Leprechaun many years ago …
A little long for me.
Mercy B Apr 2013
Once upon the memory of the most intoxicating dreams.

While strolling thru the starlite forest, there stood the fairy queen.

A magnificent shimmer flowed from the tips of toes  to her firery red hair.

Such majestic beauty was there in her eyes I found myself lost in her stare.

She whispered of tails filled with fairy magic kept hidden but still in plain sight.

She told how she kissed awake the stars and brought life into the night.

I was enchanted by  the sweet sounds of lulabyes that the fairy queen sang.

Don't let her size fool you, beyond the edge of the forest her fairy voice rang.

In awe I watched as she whisped thru the sky as if she were dancing with moon beams.

Once upon the meomry of the most intoxicating dreams.
In memory of GiGi
I read a comment from a friend today
She said she liked my note
It was a poem about 4 certain words
A quick one that I wrote
She said she liked Old Fairy Stories
I didn't have a clue
Was she talking gay old pooftahs
Or just fairies dressed in blue
Liberace, Quentin Crisp
Have lots of tales to tell
But, was she speaking of these fairies
Or of ones that cast a spell ?
I wasn't sure of whom she spoke
Which fairy tales she liked
Was she a big fan of Tinkerbell
Or of big, princesses named Mike?
So, I figure I'll just wait and see
I'll write one for Eileen
It'll be the strangest Fairy Tale
That she has ever seen...
Once Upon a time.......
A fairy
who
only
flew
under
the fall
of night
met her
lover
under
the songs
of stars
in choirs
of light,
they rest
under
the petals
of a white
rose, her
lover asks,
“how can
I find words
to paint
beauty
with my
lips?”
to which
the fairy
says to
him,
“why do
you feel
the will
to open
your
lips?
all that
slumbers
awaken
when
the eyes
alone find
beauty”
they
gaze
upon the
white
lanterns
of the
dark
in a
ripple
of tides
in the
leaves,
the wings
of a bird
drifting
as a
dream in
awakening,
the fairy
rises with
her lover,  
amongst the
moonflowers
and violets
above,
they flew
by lunar
guidance
towards
a field
of indigo
shades,
they descend
and softly
rest upon
the yellow
hearts,
the fairy
turns to
her lover,
and says,
“the
leaves
sing as
our own
tale, in
symphony
with the
delicate
branches
of our veins,
we lie
here and
hear the
music we
once had
sought to
hide, we
wished to
write about
it, rather,
we closed
our eyes,
for the ones,
as us, who
tightly
caged
their  
words are
the ones
with the
deepest
wells of
feeling,
we are
living,
breathing
oceans,
clothed
in skin,
living tiny
moments
of poetry
every
hour,
don’t
you
see
this?”
to which
he says,
“I do,
and here
it comes,
the
golden
light”
it arrives,
in touch
of all that
it sees,
and the
fairy
whispers,
“let us
sleep,
and
return
as specks
of time”
they close
their eyes,
the bird
rests upon
a lone
tree,
the peace
of the
Idyll, in its
picturesque
eternity,
prevails.
Arabella May 2016
yes, I am a princess, and yes I want a fairy tale.
No, not a dashing prince to come claim me as a prize after some monster held me captive.
No, not a man with too good of posture on a horse to come rescue me from my secretly evil parent's ploys.
No. Not like that.
A mysterious young man with a knack for guitars and a drug problem.
Now, this is where you're probably thinking, what kind of fairy tale is that?
But let me go on.
The drugs, the guitar, the things between his teeth...(and between his legs...) were the things I like to address as a call for help.
Astonishingly, everyone around him was to ignorant to see the pain behind his smile.
They were focused on his teeth, but I got caught up in his eyes.
Hazel brown, very easy to read, and having the ability to make me want to look a little nicer when I thought they'd catch a glance of me.
My cry for help was more of a silent kind, one that said save me from this thing inside of me that's telling me I'm too cruel to love, and too worthless to be loved.
And on the odd occasion one or the other occurred, well, it was never at the same time.
He heard my cry as loud as I heard his, because we had this connection that only happens in the movies.
But this is a fairy tale after all, so what did you expect, right?
He told me he loved me, and then things started to change.
He told me he had a new kind of drug problem, and this time, it had a heartbeat.
We stripped away each other's flaws, and brought out the best kind of smile in each other's eyes.
You know, the kind where you smile with your eyes, and not just your teeth.
It doesn't matter that my fairy tale didn't take place in a castle, or that my prince isn't the son of some king.
What matters is that I found the kind of happiness that makes someone else's dream your dream, just so you get to be there with them.
The kind of happiness where you stop dreaming because reality is finally just as perfect.
And that my friend, is a fairy tale.
Stop looking for someone perfect.
Start looking for someone who isn't perfect, but you wouldn't want then any other way.
shayla ennis Oct 2016
(Scene:)
The Victorian house painted brown with red shutters, a porch that’s large, a white porch swing and a purple rocking chair on this porch. Where grandmother Daisy may sit when the day is sunny or rainy. The house is on a side street covered up and down with trees so green that even in the coldest weather the leaves look as if they are still blooming. This place is called Applewood Road. To see the dark black paved road late in the fog covered night, there is a bright Victorian street lamp. A woman named Daisy the granddaughter of Nelly, who has spent most of her life going to college and having to struggle with learning and finding a place to belong.

Lawyer: writing to Nelly telling her of her grandmother’s death. Giving her news that all her grandmothers’ assets and property are hers.

Nelly: realizing she does not need to stay at college.

(Narrator):
  Due to this unexpected news Nelly has decided to quit college and move to her grandmother’s place. When she gets there she sees that on this property there is the house and a smaller building that could be turned into something else, so she decides that she will as the new owner opened an herb shop called Crystal Fairy.

Nelly: [places fliers around the town.]  I will be open for ten hours every day at Crystal Fairy selling my plants and herbs.

(Narrator):
This being Nelly’s first day opening her business, she sees that she only has three customers.
Enter Lorelei: she brings her purchase up to the counter

Nellie: oh, lavender! Do you know the properties?
Lorelei: I just saw it and the smell reminded me of a perfume my mother wears. Why is it useful for something else?

Nellie: yes!  It helps with cuts, bruises, and also functions as an antiseptic.

(Narrator): Ollie enters the store. Looking around at the plants.
Ollie: looking at the lemon balm plant. I think I’ll buy this one, going to counter.

Nelly: you wish to buy this?

Ollie: yes!

Nelly: Very well. Do you have any questions about the plant?

Ollie: yes I do.  What are its healing properties?

Nelly:  it helps with anxiety, insomnia, wounds, insect bites, and an upset stomach. It also speeds the healing of cold sores,

(Narrator):
In the back on the far left side of the shop there is an older man wearing plain black pants with a red shirt; he is looking at the plants on the shelf to his right. His name is Samael. He turns around and looks in Nelly’s direction.

Samael: this plant called chamomile what are its properties for healing?

Nelly: Samael this plant can be used for infusions and salves to relieve indigestion, colic, skin inflammations or irritations to the skin.

(Narrator):
Samael turns away because he sees the other patrons waiting to pay their bills and wanting to leave. Knowing soon that he will be all alone in the store with Nelly you can feel the tension building from him and the excitement rapping its way around his mind because of what he is thinking about. Just at this moment Samael plans out his plot to ****** Nelly. Samael looks around to see what he can use as his ****** weapon, he finds a heavy ceramic-clay bowl that he intends to use. To hit Nelly over the head. He makes sure the store is empty and that Nelly has her back turned so he can lock the door. Once the door is locked he pulls down the window shades. Once this is done he turns in her direction while her back is still turned.

Samael: [hitting nelly over the head]

Nelly: ouch!

(Narrator):
She falls to the floor!  Samael starts talking loudly.

Samael: I’m going to rip her blouse and jeans apart.

Samael: [Tatter… rip………]

(Narrator):
He wants to show her how much he loves her and to show her that ignoring him and his presents will only ensure their relationship.
Nelly: [staring at him with utter fear].

Samael: [he pulls a blade out from the back counter and puts it to her face].

Samael: I’ll cut your pretty face then no one will want you or look at you. You will have to come to me for comfort I’m the only one who will understand.  

(Narrator:)
Nelly looks up at him crying and pleading for him not to hurt her, that she does not even know him so what could he be talking about? Suddenly Samael reaches for her and strikes out at Nelly’s face, leaving a bruise that causes her to scream out in pain.

Nelly: [ouch!] Please don’t no more.

(Narrator):
There is a sudden silence as Nelly realizes that Samael is crazy and nothing she says or does will make a difference. As Nelly remains on the gray tile floor of her shop with Samael hurting her, she gets a sudden burst of energy, and she starts to fight him to break his hold over her.
Nelly: looking around where she lays for something to use as a defensive weapon.  That will allow her to free herself, to get to the green wooden door of her shop.

(Narrator):
Seeing a statuette of a flower in a *** Nelly grabs for it. She slams it into Samael’s face. Gaining her feet, she runs to the door trying to open it in order to scream for help.

Nelly: [screaming at top of her lungs].

Nelly: [ha………]

Nelly: help! Help! Somebody help me please!

(Narrator):
Samael stopping her, throwing her hard against a red wooden shelf. Then taking this same statuette he hits her even harder than before, only to realize that he has just killed her. The sound of Nelly’s fall so close to the door causes the neighbors near her property to turn the lights on in their homes.

(Narrator):
Samael: [seeing the lights turning on in the neighborhood becomes scared. Running for the metal door in the back of the store, he takes off down a dark alley way. Just as this happens, Lorelie, a neighbor and friend, opens the store’s front door. Coming inside, she steps forward to turn the store lights on. Suddenly seeing Nelly’s body lying on the cold tile floor with her head smashed in, her body at an odd angle because of the way she is laying and blood pooling around her, she also sees strange foot prints that don’t belong, and then she screams.]

Lorelei: oh! Oh my god! Oh what has happened?

(Narrator):
Lorelie’s screams cause Ollie, who lives across the street, to come running over to the store. When he gets to Lorelie’s side he sees what’s wrong and starts looking around trying not to disturb anything. As he is looking around trying to find out what has happened to Nelly he turns to Lorelei.

Ollie: Lorelei call detective Walter he will help find Nelly’s murderer

Lorelei:  pick up the phone calls detective Walter

(Narrator):
Ollie continues looking around the store. He finds the ceramic-clay bowl broken, and the statuette believing that in some way they are the answers to Nelly’s death or at least a start. Turning back towards Lorelie, he sees that Walter is coming up the street with Beatrice, his partner. Ollie goes outside to meet them. The detectives come into the store called Crystal Fairy, seeing the dead body of Nelly. Like Ollie, Walter starts looking at the scene around him noticing specific things. The turned over book case, the broken bowl, and the busted statuette, but most of all the back door gets his full attention because that’s where the ****** footprints lead. Leaving Beatrice behind to ask questions

(Narrator): enters Walter

Walter: [following these footprints outside and down the back alley. These prints lead him to a house’s back porch. There he sees more ****** prints and comes to the idea that the person who is responsible for Nelly’s death is inside.]

Walter: going into house [squeak- silent slam]

(Narrator):
Inside the house looking around, listening for any sounds and sudden movements. A sudden sound catching his attention, he looks up to see a cat jumping from a window.

The cat: [thump, bang thump again]

Walter: [making his way down the hallway and up the stairs, sees a door to his left with lights on.  It opens with a slam.]
Sound of door: [crash…]

(Narrator):
Samael rushing out at Walter with an iron bar.

Samael: [swinging the bar. [Swish……..] missing]

Walter: [stepping back, moving out of the way].

(Narrator):
This causes Samael to stumble and fall down the stairs, crashing to the bottom.

[Enters Beatrice]
Beatrice comes through the front door she sees Samael and goes to check him out. Walter and Beatrice pick him up off the floor, waking him up; this causes him to start confessing to what he has done.

Samael: [tells them that he was only trying to show his love to Nelly, but that she wouldn’t listen and thus he had to **** her so he could have her to himself. He didn’t want anyone else to love her or for her to love anyone else either].

(Narrator):
The detectives hearing this confession look at Samael completely surprised that he would confess so easily and without having to be drilled about the truth. But what gets their attention is how he confesses.

Samael: I love her; she would not see me or love me back. I just want her to see me.

Beatrice: So you frighten her and torture her, then **** her.

Walter: Beatrice, he’s crazy can’t you see that. We’re wasting time.

Beatrice: I know he’s crazy. I just feel sad that he could be so stupid and think that killing someone shows feeling for them. Poor woman, she was so young.

Walter: From what I could get from the neighbors, Nelly had just moved here after her grandmother’s death due to inheriting everything. Her life was just getting stated.

Samael: I love her; I’m the only one who can.

Walter/Beatrice: Will you shut up already! We get it. You love her so you killed her.


                                                                The End
this is a drama playwrite
Olivia Kent Sep 2013
Fairy Tales!

Force open the pages of aged books.
Take care they don't tear.
Read tales for children.
Tales of ladies,
With very long hair.
Stories of fairies .
If enter you dare.

The pages are yellow.
Stained by age and tobacco.
Fragile they are.
Must handle with care.
Smell the mustiness enter the air.
Pages feel dry and crusty to touch.
While the listener is agile.
Memories of sitting on Grand-papa's knee.
Listens to stories not read to me.

Face of the child.
Angelic so pure.
Trapped inside.
Fairy stories lure.
Safe and secure
No big bad wolves here.
She's safe indoors.

All the bad wolves live outside the doors.
The fairy princesses wear satin dresses.
Wings opened to soak up the sun.
Bad witches discarded.
As yesterday's news.
Frogs become princes.
The men of her dreams.
Fantasy fairy tales only in dreams.

By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
The moonlight fades from flower and rose
And the stars dim one by one;
The tale is told, the song is sung,
And the Fairy feast is done.
The night-wind rocks the sleeping flowers,
And sings to them, soft and low.
The early birds erelong will wake:
'T is time for the Elves to go.

O'er the sleeping earth we silently pass,
Unseen by mortal eye,
And send sweet dreams, as we lightly float
Through the quiet moonlit sky;--
For the stars' soft eyes alone may see,
And the flowers alone may know,
The feasts we hold, the tales we tell;
So't is time for the Elves to go.

From bird, and blossom, and bee,
We learn the lessons they teach;
And seek, by kindly deeds, to win
A loving friend in each.
And though unseen on earth we dwell,
Sweet voices whisper low,
And gentle hearts most joyously greet
The Elves where'er they go.

When next we meet in the Fairy dell,
May the silver moon's soft light
Shine then on faces gay as now,
And Elfin hearts as light.
Now spread each wing, for the eastern sky
With sunlight soon shall glow.
The morning star shall light us home:
Farewell! for the Elves must go.
I have a fairy by my side
Which says I must not sleep,
When once in pain I loudly cried
It said "You must not weep"
If, full of mirth, I smile and grin,
It says "You must not laugh"
When once I wished to drink some gin
It said "You must not quaff".

When once a meal I wished to taste
It said "You must not bite"
When to the wars I went in haste
It said "You must not fight".

"What may I do?" at length I cried,
Tired of the painful task.
The fairy quietly replied,
And said "You must not ask".

Moral: "You mustn't."
Shofi Ahmed Mar 2017
Before long the summer sun will rise in London
Like the half of the Ge meets the other half.
Like a magic by the Lamp of Aladdin
The love flame hidden in the chest lights up!

Like a blooming rose in a glowing beam of light,
Like a smiling face speaks a gentle word,
Like a beautiful sunrise colour in the first light!

The summer in London will pop and sizzle
We will see a threshold in our land.
The rose for a while is tucked away
Off the winter and is given to the sun
Winter is not forever spring is on the corner
Come back in the sun with the early bird
Before Cinderella takes on the primrose path.

Keeping an eye on a thriller is in the winter’s field
Oozy ozone misty land gets a gingerly seasoning
What on earth will it strike, will it dish out?
Ah, the sun will pop out like a river breeze.

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!
This is a poem from my book Zero and One available on Amazon.
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.
Mike Hauser May 2014
there are rumors always flowing
but very little known
about the tiny mischief nymph
fairy of the poem

to her each poems a new beginning
on a trail to wanderlust
an adventure taken to the edge
this fairy of the verse

fussing over every title
tweaking of the lines
adding just the right amount of dust
this fairy of the rhyme

only seen when she lets you in
as she flutters to and fro
taking you to the highest heights
fairy of the poem
Samuel Preveda Jan 2016
I remember fairy tales
The dramatic intonation of the story teller The books with gilded pictures Pages sometimes glossy, Sometimes thin and worn.

Stories of enchanted woods and jungles
Of hope and disaster
The most unlikely circumstance
But almost always a miracle

The good dragon, the fairy godmother
Talking animals and secret doors

Rabbits, toads, princes and queens,
Treasure, flying carpets, evil lurking like dark clouds, a sinister gift clad in unsuspecting beauty to the innocent. There is a path through the wood.

Vines and ancient trees, willow and yew; Roses with thorns and wild berries Songbirds and moss and stones of all colors; In fairy tales there are always twists.
Marian Mar 2013
My friend from Fairyland I love to hug
We walk through the tall blowing grass
While the breezes stirr and swish our skirts
And as we stop by the creek she turns into a Fairy

One so dear, one so sweet
One the Fairies love to greet
One they respect and love to fly in the air with
One they make beautiful clothes for

One they make a crown of rosebuds
And one they especially love to dance with
And one they sing for with voices loud and clear
One they sing a lullaby to at Night

When their beautiful Fairy Queen sleeps
On a pretty soft bed of ferns
They all sing softly to hush her to sleep
And I happily sing with them for my Fairy Queen!

*~Marian~
For Lori Callahan, my Fairy Queen. I hope this will cheer her up. Now, my Fairy Queen, let us dance with your Fairy Folk. <3<3
On winter nights beside the nursery fire
We read the fairy tale, while glowing coals
Builded its pictures. There before our eyes
We saw the vaulted hall of traceried stone
Uprear itself, the distant ceiling hung
With pendent stalactites like frozen vines;
And all along the walls at intervals,
Curled upwards into pillars, roses climbed,
And ramped and were confined, and clustered leaves
Divided where there peered a laughing face.
The foliage seemed to rustle in the wind,
A silent murmur, carved in still, gray stone.
High pointed windows pierced the southern wall
Whence proud escutcheons flung prismatic fires
To stain the tessellated marble floor
With pools of red, and quivering green, and blue;
And in the shade beyond the further door,
Its sober squares of black and white were hid
Beneath a restless, shuffling, wide-eyed mob
Of lackeys and retainers come to view
The Christening.
A sudden blare of trumpets, and the throng
About the entrance parted as the guests
Filed singly in with rare and precious gifts.
Our eager fancies noted all they brought,
The glorious, unattainable delights!
But always there was one unbidden guest
Who cursed the child and left it bitterness.


The fire falls asunder, all is changed,
I am no more a child, and what I see
Is not a fairy tale, but life, my life.
The gifts are there, the many pleasant things:
Health, wealth, long-settled friendships, with a name
Which honors all who bear it, and the power
Of making words obedient. This is much;
But overshadowing all is still the curse,
That never shall I be fulfilled by love!
Along the parching highroad of the world
No other soul shall bear mine company.
Always shall I be teased with semblances,
With cruel impostures, which I trust awhile
Then dash to pieces, as a careless boy
Flings a kaleidoscope, which shattering
Strews all the ground about with coloured shards.
So I behold my visions on the ground
No longer radiant, an ignoble heap
Of broken, dusty glass. And so, unlit,
Even by hope or faith, my dragging steps
Force me forever through the passing days.
Jaaxxx Nov 2015
She was a happy, lovely teenager
all the boys around her wants to be with her
she was the kind of girl who believed in her fairy tale
and she,being alone that time, was all part of the trail

until this guy showed up, stopping her world
heart beats louder than she ever heard
feeling like a princess because she found a prince
not knowing this ain't a fairy tale that she always dream

he showed her his promises
she believed him and fall
but he broke those promises
no action at all

she is broken. you can see it in her eyes
there is no happily ever after
feelings used to live in paradise
now facing storm and thunder
Hannah Martin Aug 2016
Fairy tales are simply fantasies created from people who want a better world

Where the biggest concern is who is the fairest of them all

Wondering when Prince Charming will arrive

Fairy tales are always predictable,
With the same cookie cutter endings

But life is no fairy tale,
It's much more complicated

If only life were that simple,
But the truth is, it's not

Not everyone gets a happy ending,
Even if you're one of the good guys

Fairy tales are just an escape from reality
cheryl love Aug 2015
To tell you the truth
the problems this fairy has
were firmly set in her youth
Many moons ago for this poor
fairy with the sweet tooth.

She thought nothing to dip
a sugar wand in fairy paste
consisting of damson whip
strawberry surprise and
fairy apple crystal pip.

It would coat her teeth in time
with decay and rot quite badly
she used toothpaste caked in lime
but that system failed leaving her
with teeth looking like slime.

But what can she do, let's think
we all know she likes the sweet stuff
but she must now have water to drink
good food that will help her like
little apples that are pink.

— The End —