"fairyland" poems
The spring in your steps
And the spring in nature
Playing a match
That let me have a catch
Of a bit of happiness
In all my loneliness
In all my loneliness
This weather makes me
Light as a feather
Dreaming of us together
Dreaming of us together
In a fairyland
We claim as ours
Where a vast meadow
Filled with flowers
Dancing as the wind blows
Dancing as the wind blows
Taking away my woes
Sun rays kissing our skin
Let the light shine upon us
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 1:53 AM UTC
Dim vales—and shadowy floods—
And cloudy-looking woods,
Whose forms we can’t discover
For the tears that drip all over
Huge moons there wax and wane—
Again—again—again—
Every moment of the night—
Forever changing places—
And they put out the star-light
With the breath from their pale faces.
About twelve by the moon-dial
One more filmy than the rest
(A kind which, upon trial,
They have found to be the best)
Comes down—still down—and down
With its centre on the crown
Of a mountain’s eminence,
While its wide circumference
In easy drapery falls
Over hamlets, over halls,
Wherever they may be—
O’er the strange woods—o’er the sea—
Over spirits on the wing—
Over every drowsy thing—
And buries them up quite
In a labyrinth of light—
And then, how deep!—O, deep!
Is the passion of their sleep.
In the morning they arise,
And their moony covering
Is soaring in the skies,
With the tempests as they toss,
Like—almost any thing—
Or a yellow Albatross.
They use that moon no more
For the same end as before—
Videlicet a tent—
Which I think extravagant:
Its atomies, however,
Into a shower dissever,
Of which those butterflies,
Of Earth, who seek the skies,
And so come down again
(Never-contented thing!)
Have brought a specimen
Upon their quivering wings.
7.3k
Seeing we never found gay fairyland
(Though still we crouched by bluebells moon by moon)
And missed the tide of Lethe; yet are soon
For that new bridge that leaves old Styx half-spanned;
Nor ever unto Mecca caravanned;
Nor bugled Asgard, skilled in magic rune;
Nor yearned for far Nirvana, the sweet swoon,
And from high Paradise are cursed and banned;
-Let's die home, ferry across the Channel! Thus
Shall we live gods there. Death shall be no sev'rance.
Weary cathedrals light new shrines for us.
To us, rough knees of boys shall ache with rev'rence.
Are not girls' ******* a clear, strong Acropole?
-There our oun mothers' tears shall heal us whole
5.1k
The child alone a poet is:
Spring and Fairyland are his.
Truth and Reason show but dim,
And all’s poetry with him.
Rhyme and music flow in plenty
For the lad of one-and-twenty,
But Spring for him is no more now
Than daisies to a munching cow;
Just a cheery pleasant season,
Daisy buds to live at ease on.
He’s forgotten how he smiled
And shrieked at snowdrops when a child,
Or wept one evening secretly
For April’s glorious misery.
Wisdom made him old and wary
Banishing the Lords of Faery.
Wisdom made a breach and battered
Babylon to bits: she scattered
To the hedges and ditches
All our nursery gnomes and witches.
Lob and Puck, poor frantic elves,
Drag their treasures from the shelves.
Jack the Giant-killer’s gone,
Mother Goose and Oberon,
Bluebeard and King Solomon.
Robin, and Red Riding Hood
Take together to the wood,
And Sir Galahad lies hid
In a cave with Captain Kidd.
None of all the magic hosts,
None remain but a few ghosts
Of timorous heart, to linger on
Weeping for lost Babylon.
4.8k
The Mockery of Fairyland
In silence watching, as fellow, fallow fairies dance,
Sylphs float above while gnomes furrow,
Donating water brothers.
Undine.
Spiritual creatures, unseen.
Creation of nature from nature.
Mankind evading.
Those fairies will still catch your eye,
In form of genus butterfly.
God forbid you meet them.
Stumble on their fairy rings.
You should never ever tell a fairy your name.
For in fairyland you may remain.
For safety's sake.
While you're out walking in the woods.
Inside out, you must wear your shirt,
Wear a ring of of iron!
So you can breach the fairies curse.
For in seven year cycles.
Fairies must donate to hell.
A good soul,Tam Hin.
Because he tricked the fairy queen.
She had to set him free.
Ti's said.
As man folk mate.
Fairies do true procreate.
In a way akin to ours!
Hybrid fairies once existed.
They were such melancholy souls.
Far too sad to live in fairyland.
Too fairy like to live on earth!
Titania she still sits waiting patiently.
For her Oberon to arrive.
King and queen of fairyland, in literacy.
Supreme?
No Fallacy!
By ladylivvi1
May 24, 2013
May 24, 2013 at 4:56 AM UTC
I love rain
don't you?
I think it's like a lovely lullaby singing one to sleep at night
rain is a joy not a sorrow
when you hear it on your roof at night pattering a sweet song to help you sleep
in your warm bed
the best thing about is it brings lots of fun
rain
rain on pine needles
rain on trees
rain flowers
rain on grass
rain on bushes and plants
rain everywhere
rain falling from the dull grey sky
kissing my fair cheeks
raindrops
falling from the sky
like Heaven's tears falling from the clouds
rain like dewdrops that fairies drink
rain on honeysuckles in the enchanted forest
sparkling on thick hunter green moss like beads scattered for the fairies to make petals
for flowers
rain inside the fairy ring where at night fairies love to dance and sing
with hearts so carefree
their beauty like that of day
raindrops everywhere
even in Fairyland
~Marian~
Jan 14, 2013
Jan 14, 2013 at 3:54 PM UTC
Happiness- in poetry, in heart-
Are both so radical?
Must dark words lodge themselves
Forever, painfully so- or-
Does my mind trip me up?
Is joy light as a feather?
Or careless dreaming
Of a fairyland that we claim?
This is a plea.
We can fill vast meadows with flowers
Or alone drink black coffee &
Talk serious & write "loneliness"-
Is this- this- happiness?
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 5:08 PM UTC
*Cheer up, my sweetest Sis
Even though we are miles away we are so near
The bonds of love that we give each other
Make us seem so near
Please, my dearest you are my inspiration
So please, I beg you not to cry
And if I could play the harp for you and make
It's songs all sunshine and joy dedicated to YOU I would!
I'm happy now, my sis for
My Dad has been thinking a lot of your Cello
And how it's songs sound so pretty
And I've been thinking of the same
We spoke about your Cello just last night
And how all Cellos sound so pretty
And about Harps and Bassos we spoke
We talked about Trumpets and all kinds of instruments
Spoke about their beauty
And I still wondered how your Cello would sound
But I know it would sound very pretty and sad
Because I've heard Cellos before but none played as beautifully as yours!
That I know! And all I've said about you is true, SWEETEST Sis
And I understand your passion for all animals and can't
Stand when they get hit on the road
I can't stand it either so I can relate
If I could walk with you through fields of flowers,
Walk with you by the sea, pick some hibiscus blooms,
And listen to your Cello songs I would do so
But I feel so sad. . . and I am sickened at what I've done
Just look! I've made my sweetest Sis sad!
Oh, my Sis if only I could dry your tears
So let this poem comfort you, my Love
Please, feel happy
And know this if I could play Harps,
Cellos, Trumpets, Flutes, Violins,
Celestas, Chimes, Bassos, and the rest
I would, to make you happy and smile
What can I do, sweet Sis to make you smile?
If I were to play the Piano would your tears turn to smiles?
If I were to make an Hibicus Crown to grace your head,
Would your tears turn to dew?
If I were to walk with you by the sea would your tears turn to laughter?
What can I do to make you happy, my dearest sweetest Sis?
If I were to take you to Fairyland would you be glad
Instead of sad?*
~Marian~
Mar 18, 2013
Mar 18, 2013 at 11:38 AM UTC
Your lips were dew-kissed
Under the velvety sky
The air smelled
Of a June rose
Dancing in the meadow
The sky was studded
With twinkling stars
Like diamonds and crystals
I danced through the mist
And waltzed through the trees
And balled on the shimmering lake
I played my Harp with the Fairies
Who showed me the way to Fairyland
I came here through the hidden-secret door
So now I'm in Fairyland
At least I imagine it's so
Listening to the Enchanted music
Played with the most beautiful
Instruments ever
Perhaps, even some you've
Never heard before
Like bluebells kissed in dew
Chiming like crystals across the stream
Oh, how I'd long to soar
And be a Fairy
With a Key
To Wonderland
And to Fairyland
Even in illusions
I'd love to see this place
Called: Fairyland
Where all the Fae Folk dwell
But this is just
A Fantasy
Written in the sand
~Marian~
Jun 6, 2013
Jun 6, 2013 at 4:24 PM UTC
Part I
***Here they come to me,
To dance with me through the air,
Spinkling fairy dust!
I will walk with them,
Through the Enchanted Forest,
To see their sweet world.
It is so pretty!
With flowers and ferns blooming,
By the pretty beck.
Moss-covered boulders,
Making stepping stones across,
The beautiful beck!
Sunrays hit the beck,
And make it very pretty,
Such a pretty scene!
Daisies and flowers,
Lavender and bluebells grow,
Beside the sweet beck!
Every flower blooms,
Here in pretty fairyland,
Come along with me!!***
~Marian~
Dec 9, 2012
Dec 9, 2012 at 11:27 AM UTC
I live in a fairyland in heart.
A place divinely orchestrated
with Gods hand.
Where sun shines every moment
and hearts are filled with compassion.
I live in a fairyland in heart.
A place where light infiltrates dark
and peace echoes.
Where truth vibrates every moment
and spiraling energies of love blossom.
I live in a fairyland in heart.
The place I shall go to often
The place I wish to be.
Jan 12, 2018
Jan 12, 2018 at 10:02 AM UTC
thirty-six years ago
by their count
just last week
a german girl
with irish roots
swept lanky,
blonde-haired
blue-eyed lad
from off his feet
she with hazel eyes
that change by whim
of brunette hair
and silky skin
his arrival fresh
from land afar
as appearance goes
not foreigner
yet foreign still
in his homeland
to he it was
but fairyland
first sight a playground
football game
same name but different
than he’d played
their first date
a corner burger stand
suited him, though
not very grand
what she saw
is still unclear
this blue-eyed lad
from yesteryear
suffice to say
he’s grateful she did
and she still does
and to this day
has kept up her promise
to honor forever
and always love
and he
knowing some say
marriage is not their cup
he knows
(this blonde
and blue-eyed lad)
he knows for sure...
he married
up!
Nov 1, 2013
Nov 1, 2013 at 2:12 AM UTC
Flower petals fall from trees
In a kaleidoscope of colours
Red, pink, blue, white, lavender,
Orange, and yellow
Different instruments
Chime out a melody sweet
Harps, violins, and oboes
Fill the air
Along with violas, cellos,
Acoustic guitars, pianos,
And many more instruments
Each one sounds beautiful in it's own way
But Fairies play and create a melody
That sounds so heavenly
Beautiful rainbows
Fill the sky with a maze of colours
And raindrops refresh the earth
Which feels so nice and warm beneath our feet
Dewdrops kiss those flowers
The same dew that sparkled
On the grass like a million jewels
Enchanted by those honeyed rays
Of earthbound sunshine
Dancing and waltzing in the morning air
We walk down those paths
That seem so large to us
And are spellbound by the shade of the forest
We sit down to rest
On those mushrooms that grow
Alongside that forest path
We love to appear
In front of your eyes
And make you look at us
In a dazzled sort of way
In Winter we love to fly
And walk upon the blanket of snow
And play a tune upon the frozen icicles
Hanging from the pine needles
Covered in white snow
We love to fly about
Those falling snowflakes
And dance with them
Through the grey sky
In Spring we love
To fly and dance
In a meadow of flowers
I could go on forever
But here I stop
~Marian~
Jul 8, 2013
Jul 8, 2013 at 12:12 AM UTC
I have a fairy friend
she is a sweet girl
spreading smiles everywhere her feet twirl
she is enjoying a happy life
in Fairyland
I am glad to have a friend like her
she flys through Fairyland using her satin wings
dancing in the fairy ring
she sits upon a mushroom in Fairyland
beside the creek
she flits through the air and sings me a lullaby
she knows her little sis still loves being her friend
please, dear friend know that
where flowers grow
and daisies blow
that's where I shall go
Madison Grace and I
~Marian~
Jan 14, 2013
Jan 14, 2013 at 6:52 PM UTC
~~
*When I saw grandma was spinning yarn at moon
Mother's lullaby was just a fairytale
The measure would not have to weigh the legs
Flew colorful kites in the sky
Had a chat with friends at idle hours
The dreams came but never went with wind
We, all friends were wandering in a fairyland
The words of the poem as the rain came
She loved to hear the poems
When romance flowed with blood
Air, flowers said Spring
When in a lazy Summer afternoon
She stood at my door
Sitting beside me
Sang a song of future
Lost ourselves
When time moved in the forth dimension
You and me
Sometimes Sunshine,
Sometimes Rain
Horizon spoke with Rainbows
Then dreams played with my blue Sky
And I was bright as the Evening Star
~~
@ Musfiq us shaleheen*
Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 5:02 PM UTC
Blessing from God came to this
Universe to fill my heart with love
To you I write this poem
Trying to show you I care
Ever shy of my presence
Rosy, posy little feline angel
Came to me to be my little friend
Unicorns dance just for her in fairyland
Pouring my words on paper just for you I write
~Marian~
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 11:01 AM UTC
Hunched over the worn desk
In the ***** yellow light
Trying to arrange thoughts in array
A small mad woman with a pen in hand
On the paper drops of life did lay
The mind soared to the golden heavens
Dove blindly into the gates of hell
Using her favorite metaphors wildly
Dark poetry from a ghost-filled well
Eyes shining with frightening excitement
The feather pen moved on its own
Stories of a thousand lost years
Through legends of Troy, Atlantis, and fairyland, she would roam
Weary now of endless imagination
The ink dried the words would keep
Impish smile of triumph on her face
Rest her mind in an enchanted sleep
All Rights Reserved @ Tammy M. Darby
All Material Stored in Author Base.
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 8:58 PM UTC
You were already dead
by the time
I was planted in your soil.
Your story is one told to me
through grainy photographs.
Echoed whispers of
peripheral port cities.
Somewhere lovingly untouchable.
My home was once alive.
My stomach lurches
while picturing these
hollow streets,
once filled with laughter.
The harbour
bursting with smiles.
Each neighbour,
a family or friend,
usually both.
How I love this island!
The salted summer's breeze,
hand woven scarlet autumns.
Wild flowers dancing
atop cliff-sides,
free for us
to admire and absorb.
Absorb we did.
I swear my bones
are made of sea-glass.
How could they be
made of anything less?
In their stories,
you are a fairyland.
A cosmically unified olden wood,
dipped in Scotch
and swaddled in wool.
Yet your branches rot,
thinner and damper each year.
Soon the whispers
will be stale air.
No one will be left
to tell tales
of your beautiful youth.
Everything dies.
How I once wished to see
you in your prime.
Even in your postmortem existence,
you've given me
mud to stick my toes into.
I see you
melting into the sea.
I smell your flesh
being swallowed
by bottom feeders.
You are a wonder to me
all the same.
Apr 22, 2021
Apr 22, 2021 at 10:15 AM UTC
Welcome to Fairyland!
Come dream the hours away,
Then dance with me and the Fairies across the cool sand,
And find the beauty in every day!
Come with me to Fairyland,
Where the Fairies will dance with me and you,
Be sunshine across the warm summer sand;
But I promise your days here will never be blue.
Walk with me to Fairyland,
Where days will never fly,
Where time is not just a grain of sand;
And where dreams and wishes will never die.
~Marian~
Mar 2, 2013
Mar 2, 2013 at 1:07 PM UTC
Peter never understood why Wendy was meant to grow up
why she had to leave the blissfulness of Neverland
If there's an answer to his questions it would be that
she was dreaming of castles and voyages and someone to love
while he was mischieving pirates,chasing a never setting sun
I often wander if I'm more like her,
sincere, gentle, a duchess-to-be
a young girl who dwells in stories
or like the boy who wouldn't grow up,
nonchalant, full of lovely wonderful thoughts,
Peter Pan,the one who could fly
But what did he do when she left?
Is she a beautiful memory in a child's mind,
why didn't he abandon immortality for love?
Here's Wendy, back in Kensington Gardens
a lady asking herself what if I had stayed
why couldn't he abandon youth for her love?
And she will forever remain in his mind as a little girl,
who played family with and dreamed
but Wendy will be married and will be kissed
but not with him.
And Peter will always be a chasing dream,
a fairyland with pirates and ships,
a world of villains, mermaids and the boy who
didn't return her kiss.
I read, imagining his crooked smile growing up
or her staying forever
and none of these feels completely right
In the end, I am another lost boy who went to Neverland,
and flew and fought with a sword, and swam with mermaids
and danced around fire with the eyes of Tiger Lilly
Sometimes there I return, finding him lost in her thoughts,
but there again everyone's forgotten among the things we never say...
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 2:08 PM UTC
There castles fair as a moon of June
Despite denizens 'neath a pit of despair
Like a night lit not by stars or moon.
Sweet is the silent whispers of a zephyr
When falls dew at the peep of dawn
Upon meadow boughs of emerald fair.
When heaven's ever fair golden eye
Doth sprinkle her very last fiery ray
To pave way unto maidens of the sky
That evermore bedeck heaven's bay,
In woods strange lonely things dost cry
In lament of the sweet melted olden day
Now 'neath the vale of time: In fairyland,
Where days once colorful and bright,
Where novelty gems bedeck each strand,
Where lofty towers shine than star light,
There naught remains that doth stand
And there dawns never but endless night.
Kikodinho Edward Alexandros,
Los Angels, California.
20th/09/2018
Sep 20, 2018
Sep 20, 2018 at 5:02 AM UTC
Wishing I could live in a fairytale land
Where singing my feelings
Would be a common feat;
Dancing through the streets,
Meeting my soul mate
Knowing that we were forever.
Feeling enchanted and believing
In magic; these are the things
My heart sincerely desires.
I don’t want to settle for the mundane
Seemingly normal life,
That everyone robotically lives.
I want to traverse the ocean,
Experiencing the wonders
Of art and ancient civilizations.
I want to believe in pixies.
Believing the stories of gypsies
That traveled spewing tales of magic.
I want to live on Middle Earth
Where there are many types of “human”
Including the one I grew up to be.
I want to be an elf that lives forever
And is exceptionally good at archery;
With a dwarf for a best friend.
I want to believe in Greek gods
With their magic and the powers
They hold in everything.
My heart longs for so much more.
I’m afraid that this world
Won’t be able to offer it to me.
This world seems broken
Beyond the ability to repair.
It’s too scientific.
I’m afraid that all the magic
That is left, is just that;
Empty fairytales.
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 10:55 PM UTC
Kisses under the mistletoe, holly, Santa's list,
Rudolph's red nose aglow,
Sleigh bells ringing,
A donated toy, presents galore beneath the glistening tree,
The rich, soft scent of green pine, wreaths to behold, angels above,
A wish made upon a star,
The wise men's gifts from afar, the drummer boy,
Satiny ribbons, big red velvet bows,
My hollyberry dishes,
Wondrous white fallen, holiday snow
With lights at night - a shiny, sparkling fairyland show! ! !
Christmas time magically brings dreams about heavenly things
Back to life again.
Boxes of candy are ready to go
Except for the bows - a must for shoppin'
Around the world Santa, driven by reindeer,
Will stop for good kids Christmas eve night.
Soon I'll get some seeds the scarlet cardinals and other woodland birds to delight.
Christmas carols were played past years
On our piano
With two old fingers and more.
My grandpa who had a heart of gold could play songs by ear at his memory's door.
Days have long ago gone by since
My grandfather so dear to us
Told me how they use to put
Wax candles on the window sills
And the tree - to light Christmas's way.
Around the deep, magnificent boughs, too, a scallop trim with splendor
Made by hand from strung popcorn and pure ruby cranberries, danced along its adorned, lovely strand.
A glorious tree it must have been!
Grandpa didn't have a red Christmas stocking.
He got a piece of chocolate
And an orange in his sock
Early Christmas morning.
Wishing you all a snowy, Merry Christmas
Filled with sweet dreams of sunshiny days
Tops my list like winter's cherry cheeks
On children whose laughter brings cheer while they play! ! ! !
Dec 25, 2011
Dec 25, 2011 at 4:08 AM UTC
a lifeless desert
holds the ancient tribes’
forgotten script
in a sequence
time scatters the rhymes
of our story’s lines
can we perceive
the shattered letters,
the messages sent?
innocent,
though back in time;
is it now forgiven?
we sail toward fairyland
without a map,
the compass made of stars
Feb 6, 2013
Feb 6, 2013 at 11:52 AM UTC
*Amidst a sea of friends sat she
upon a toadstool smiling with glee
all beings in the forest sang of life
no entity in the wood knowing strife
The little fairy named Jheira
sang melodically to the swaying flora
dancing atop the golden mushroom
ne'er a negative thought they assume
I wish to join them in the glen
share the happiness from within
sing with the fairies to the wood
basking in all in life that is good*
Nov 25, 2012
Nov 25, 2012 at 2:21 PM UTC