"pixies" poems
Goodnight green eyes,
Your dreams await you in Silver-Lined skies,
Dreams of dragons, and fairies, and me,
and hopefully just a touch of mystery.
The sliding colors slipping silently through silky seas,
gliding gracefully over gallant gull wings,
whisking you away with a gentle breeze.
You see dragons and pirates,
fairies and gypsies,
tricksy little gnomes,
and flamboyant pixies,
you see them all tucking away,
hiding in there homes as their thoughts start to stray.
and as you glide gracefully over the sea,
your thoughts start to wonder what tomorrow will be,
will there be adventures or heart ache and loss,
or maybe even a romp through the moss,
you might not know now,
but theres something you do,
that someone you love,
is waiting for you.
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 8:29 PM UTC
There's a meadow past the village
On a hill...where magic swarms
You can see it on a summer night
When the clouds predict the storms
Life from time eternal
Starts appearing in the field
Gnomes and bluebell fairies
and the magic that they yield
You can see them from the village
Dancing in the moonlights glow
You can see the lightning jumping
You can see the ebb and flow
The pixies and the fairies
Folk who are part of their own world
Light up the distant meadow
As the magic is unfurled
Daisies and soft bluebells
fill the meadow in the sun
there is clover and some dragonflies
And young children having fun
The magic folk are hiding
Lights are hid, and tucked away
Until the humans in their world
Pack to end the day
It's then, from down the village
That the meadow lights begin
Where the magic lights the sky up
In the early gloaming din
If a human breaks the borders
Coming out and much too near
The lights go dark...and silent
For the magic world has ears
There are sentries in the meadow
All unseen to you
That alert the makers of the lights
When the humans are in view
there is magic in the meadow
magic lanterns are set free
where the world becomes a canvas
Of dancing lights for all to see
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 5:36 PM UTC
And after that I am still a hollow where the
fairies hide from darkness and poisons. I
am still growing flowers out of my womb
and that is why they stink like ************
And after that your disbelief kills all my
sparky pixies and after that I cannot be
anything more than a hollow hollow. But
yeah I am still growing flowers out of my
wound and that is why I scream and cry
when you touch them.
And after that the stillness of the air inside
me and the remnant echo of morning songs
attract the darkness to come. And after that
I think she may feel lonely so I invite
poisons to also come along.
And after that I am still growing flowers
out of the wound on my womb. They still
stink like ************ and after that
vomitting feels like womanhood thing. And
after that my flowers are still immortal and
that is why sometimes you see blood clot
floating around the moon.
Sep 4, 2014
Sep 4, 2014 at 2:33 PM UTC
Daddy takes me to the greenhouse,
behind our rotted trailer, deep in sovereign backwoods.
Marsh voices, thick like tupelo honey.
The coo of a loon, hiss of a cottonmouth, shiver of a snapping turtle.
The silver of swamp lilies lip the land in wild haze,
a veil of ochre moss tickles my nose like gauzey ginger ale
and soil clings to my ankles like a lonesome hound.
Daddy’s greenhouse is a shed, a haven.
A milieu of magic and fleur-de-cannabis
where pixies pull my curls and gnomes dance
under mushroom parasols.
My hands dip into a hollow of muddy earthworms.
I feel akin to the yellow blood of a butterfly
or pale jade of perplexing geckos.
Daddy is a shaman.
He trims holy blooms that come from spirits
who sing in the wind like the whippoorwill at dusk.
Snipping sticky bushels, he pads tufts into his pipe,
carved in the shape of a sullen armadillo.
I watch him inhale.
His breath
stiff
as a braid of mangroves.
He exhales a ligneous cough.
I don’t mind,
much.
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 3:18 PM UTC
Alice was walking
At the back of her yard
when she spotted a gnome
well....standing guard
she knew she was gnomeless
she had a ball and a stone
but there in her garden
was a short, stocky gnome
he knew that she saw him
he tried not to blink
he stopped all his breathing
this'll fool her i think
she walked down the garden
stopped ten feet away
looking close at this person
who was dressed in green gray
she thought, this is crazy
a gnome in my yard
it was then that he moved
and he held out his card
she looked at the writing
it did her no good
it was written in gnomish
and only gnomes understood
the stare off continued
and then she asked loud
who are you, you gnome you
standing so proud
he said, i am biffles
at your service i am
in the back of your garden
here in East Ham
she said, why my garden
what is special to you
about my dear roses
and my runner beans too
he said, that a meeting
of the higher up gnomes
was being held there that night
there were elves and some pixies
and some twenty odd sprite
they were there all around her
though they couldn't be seen
watching her closely
in ten shades of green
well, biffles ...young sir
what is your job while here
you aren't at the meetings
what do you do my dear
i am sargeant at arms
when we're here or at home
i guess you could call me
(wait for it)
yep...i'm a guardin' gnome
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 7:21 PM UTC
you're turning me into lights, i'm glowing in the dark
you put them inside of my eyes and then you called them stars
you used them to make constellations, i am so very complacent
'cause i just need your radiation, and i'm so caught up in this rotation
oh, gravitational pull, your laughter's such a moon when it's full
your intergalactic soul is home here,
you're well-known here, and i've got no fears, no not yet
when life gets a lot more than a little bit heavy,
i could fly to the moon, bring back the zero gravity,
and everyone's so serious and grave,
buried six feet under pain.
but i assure you, you will always have me
you're turning me into lights, i'm glowing in the dark
you put them inside of my eyes and then you called them stars
you used them to make constellations, i am so very complacent
'cause i just need your radiation, and i'm so caught up in this rotation
oh, gravitational pull, your laughter's such a moon when it's full
your intergalactic soul is home here,
you're well-known here, and i've got no fears, no not yet
when life seems to fade into a greyish breeze,
i could fly into space, bring you the colours of the galaxies
and everyone's gone so numb
ten degree burns, and black hole suns.
but the look on your face has been dusted by pixies.
you're turning me into lights, i'm glowing in the dark
you put them inside of my eyes and then you called them stars
you used them to make constellations, i am so very complacent
'cause i just need your radiation, and i'm so caught up in this rotation
oh, gravitational pull, your laughter's such a moon when it's full
your intergalactic soul is home here,
you're well-known here, and i've got no fears, no not yet
when life's like a cloud of rain, no silver linings,
and you feel like you down pain without even trying,
and everything's gone so dark,
come on, let us make a spark.
our souls can mingle in the air we'll be flying.
you're turning me into lights, i'm glowing in the dark
you put them inside of my eyes and then you called them stars
you used them to make constellations, i am so very complacent
'cause i just need your radiation, and i'm so caught up in this rotation
oh, gravitational pull, your laughter's such a moon when it's full
your intergalactic soul is home here,
you're well-known here, and i've got no fears, no not yet
Jan 7, 2017
Jan 7, 2017 at 5:57 PM UTC
Inside the Rainbow Forest
Where unicorns are born,
And fairy dust floats on the air
From sundown until dawn,
There dwells in royal splendour
Yet very rarely seen,
The king of all the pixies
With his pretty pixie queen.
His palace is a mushroom
As tall as any tree,
With bright red spots upon it
That will make you squeal with glee.
A winding golden staircase
Stretches to the very top,
In a mesmerizing spiral
That you think will never stop.
All those brave enough to climb it
Would soon chance upon a door,
With the most enormous knocker
That you really ever saw.
One hard tap summons the butler,
A polite and friendly gnome,
Serving tea and fondant fancies
That will make you feel at home.
Through a maze of vaulted chambers
Each more lavish than the last,
Passing walls lined with the portraits
Of kings from the distant past,
That dear gnome shall gently guide you,
With much merriment and song,
To the Great Hall of his master
Who resides there all day long.
From beneath a silver archway
Set with precious gems galore,
You will enter to the fanfare
Of ten trumpets, maybe more.
Dainty apple blossom petals
Shall be scattered at your feet,
As you bow your head in homage
To the king you are to meet.
With a heart bursting with wonder
You will hastily be brought,
To the throne of his most highness
Far across the royal court,
Threading through the marble towers
Of an ornate colonnade,
And a troupe of prancing dragons
With their riders on parade.
Seated high upon a pumpkin
In a matching orange gown,
Curly shoes of bright green velvet
And an elderflower crown,
The king shall bid you welcome
With a beaming toothy grin,
As he beckons to the minstrel
For the music to begin.
With his beard like cotton candy
Waving wildly in the air,
As he slides down to embrace you
From atop his lofty chair,
Both your arms shall link together
To the fiddler's merry tune,
Clicking heels and laughing loudly
As you skip around the room.
In the magic of the moment
You will give yourself to fun,
As the mischief making monarch
Tweaks your ears and cracks a pun,
All those cares your heart now carries
Shall dissolve and simply be
Lost in wondrous celebration
Of a pixie jamboree!
Sep 27, 2014
Sep 27, 2014 at 6:38 PM UTC
We the pixies clench our buttocks..... Or up yours Dave...
There is tell of a foetid rancid hellish hole
in the wild wood,
only visible by half light - every leap year,
where thick knobbed hairy arsed gnomes
plot the buggering of slim hipped
virginal pixies.
they sit cross legged on woolsacks-
knitting ****** shaped thorny policies
for the inevitable insertion,
the thickest of **** and hairiest of ****
get to chew upon the sweetmeat
of the mythical proletariat in perpetuity
as a stipend for their buggery,,,
or so the tale goes...
Feb 10, 2011
Feb 10, 2011 at 11:43 AM UTC
"You're the Ariel to my Prospero"
He says grinning
with dagger pearl teeth
that could nibble my ear
or easily rip out my heart.
Ignorant of his mundanity
He does not know of those
who came before.
Names are relative.
"You're the Puck to my Oberon"
"You're the Tink to my Peter Pan"
Heard 'em all.
Plight of the Manic Pixie
Not Dream Girl.
Charming Sassy Childish
girl.
Sidekick Extraordinaire.
But lower than Robin to his Batman.
Messenger, Trickster, Mischief Maker.
Companion.
Adventurer.
with a temper ten times his size.
A power unnamed. Unused.
Never Enough.
Never enough
to Want to challenge her master.
ProsperoOberonPeter
I will drink the poison for you.
I will sink the ship.
I will find the ****** flower
and enchant the Fairy queen.
Follow orders, then twist them.
With some glittler and a devilish smile.
Crazy Tiny
girl.
Too pixie to hold on to
Catch me Boy!
Alreadycaughtnoneedtocatch.
Little ****** Manic Pixie
Yearning for a kiss
a touch
a word.
When you're a manic pixie
there's no trio
no male sidekick to choose
over
the hero.
But the hero gets the girl.
Manic Pixies live to serve.
Not dignified or wise enough for Royal Athena.
Not ruthless enough for the Dangerous Diana.
Without the darkness of the Morrigan.
Virginity isn't a choice.
It's part of the job description.
Could I be your ladybird?
Feb 1, 2014
Feb 1, 2014 at 11:46 AM UTC
Through the sunlit valley they dance and sing
smiling with constant purity in the arms of spring
in the dales, new born lambs are bleating
daffodils push up to the sun, kindly beating
The buttercup pixies start to find worm holes
to pop there little seeds in threes into
then by night and day they watch the seedlings grow
underneath the shelter of a nearby toadstool
Then at six in the morning
when most folks are yawning
they gather their red hats as a team
and skip to the nearby crystal stream
Then with hats in hand scoop up the water
no more then just over a quarter
then bound back to water their seedlings
sweetly fastidious and tending with feeling
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 11:39 AM UTC
Fairy charming daisy
Streaming in from the east
Fairy charming daisy
Where do you live in the east?
I guess you came from the pixies
Those who dwell in the village of the beauties
Who dance in the night
And feast in the morning light
Under the babbling brooks
Reading love stories from fairy books.
Hey! You are now doing your bewitching smile?
Fairy charming daisy
How beautifully you smile.
Fairy charming daisy
I love you so!
You smile well because
You have been born so to do
And brought forth to please the sun
But hold up your face
And I will kiss you true.
Jun 23, 2012
Jun 23, 2012 at 5:20 AM UTC
Suddenly it stops raining:
The woodpecker doesn’t mind,
he keeps on hammering lofts –
he’s kind of loopy. That’s his nature.
And that’s his beauty.
The poet doesn’t stop hammering
on his keyboard, always looking for
meaning, nonsense and love-at-first-write.
He’s kind of loopy too.
Shall we call him paperpecker?
That’s his nature. And that’s his beauty.
And the paper starts revealing all kind of things:
Bulls in china shops, bilingual pixies,
and look! – on the left a cancerous person
even finds lucky clover –
1up! if this were a video-game,
but life has more than three dimensions.
Hmmm… Let’s put some tea-lights
and drift-bottles into puddles.
Someone definitely will smile and reply.
Jun 4, 2013
Jun 4, 2013 at 7:22 AM UTC
Emasculate Feud,
take his ******* and *****
so that you can travel the Jungian road
of unicorns, rainbows, and pixies
with no ******
Uncle Al Crowley
he died deranged like you-
-your very existence.
--Out of context--
like your quote of James Madison:
To fulfill your nihilist message
of hope without a ******
Freud who knew you all to well,
needs no ***** or *******
to think,
unlike you.
© S. Wesley Mcgranor
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 8:46 PM UTC
where did you go
what did you do
where did you wake up
I went everywhere I could
I am trying to escape
can I escape
been looking for my mind since the pixies asked me to
I did everything I could
to escape myself
over oceans to London
over arctic to Beijing
over prairie and rocks to Durango
traveling looking for myself in everything else
instead of letting go
can't I escape?
I go to work here there and everywhere
What can I get for you guys today
What kind of massage would you like today
Where do you want me to bring this artwork today
Where is my guard post today
can I never get away?
All these thoughts and all these thots
I woke up and ran out of the filthy philly basement on acid molly and nitrous running from bats flying from the speakers
out the house
I crash then stand and smile at police lights and friends drive home from the party
I stand smiling holding her and pray they make it home with all these
bats
I woke up here there and everywhere
Ice bag on my testicles
I awake from my morning bag
to a scared smiling face
I awake with black vision
heart nigh exploding
to crying terrified girlfriends
I awake on my steering wheel
from my weekly drive and cop
to nobody but myself
In bae's comforting arms
In the everlasting eternity my father still believes in
I awaken
I found myself
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 12:45 PM UTC
Pixied fairies
Druid pixies
Swinging on breathe and trees
Loosing themselves to each other
Solace place
No hate no greed
No distrusting
No talking of others
Best friends verily in love
Gangsters of mad Lovers
Sitting on stilts of no guilt but hugs!!
Jun 14, 2015
Jun 14, 2015 at 12:47 PM 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
It started when I looked at the clock:
9:17
The coffee maker convinced me to stay
Had I planned to leave?
Yes, of course, the channel
I left it on
She's there. Again?
Wait, I heard that!
Who's there?
#*“Could find my way to Marianna---ahah--ah”
The sine wave! That's it!
I left them in the car.
These fibers are congregating
They want to get me,
But I am just a flea!*
It started when I looked at the clock:
9:18
I sat down with Earth and ate Earl's burrito
Saturn bent down and showed me tomorrow
The radio crackled as the molecules throttled
^“We're all Immigrants and hypocrites, delusionals and sycophants”
I saw my fingers start to disappear
Then my hands, my arms
Even my ears! My EARS!
I loved those ears...
It started when I looked at the clock:
9:16
They're here, aren't they?
Radio crackles, you heard them!
They're audible!
(3333333)
The gorilla near the out goes strut, strut, strut
I felt the universe collapse inside my gold tux
Could you watch my fish for me?
Marked stuff borrowed from:
# Pixies- Wave of Mutilation
^Star ******* Hipsters- Immigrants and Hypocrites
I felt like it, that's why.
Mar 31, 2012
Mar 31, 2012 at 6:47 PM UTC
I want to be a pixie
Not a fairy,
Pixies are sensual
Beautiful tricksters
They flit around
From tree to tree
Tempt and taunt
And tease
And have no queen
Fairies on the other hand
Are innocent
And cute
They flit around
And do good
And listen to their queen
How adorable,
But not for me
I want to be a pixie.
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 11:17 AM UTC
A pixie a nixie,
a fae all day,
To these I must say
oh me oh my, oh what am I
to do on this fine day,
this fine day in early may
with pixies in the air and nixies in the sea
the fae of the day, all around me.
Nov 10, 2020
Nov 10, 2020 at 6:21 PM UTC
A purple sky gave backdrop to a web of stars.
Fairies flew through the night.
Waves of scarlet, indigo, and violet mark their trail.
A dragon roars off in the distance.
A wolf howls at the moon,
And a kookaburra sings,
Lending its voice to the chorus of the night.
Glowing fish zip through the moonlit lake.
Mermaids rest on rocks,
Tails adorned with patterns that come alive with the touch of a lover.
Their hair is done up with beautiful braids,
Dew drops as bracelets on their wrists.
A griffin lies at the mouth of a cave,
Its golden hide tattooed with a delicate hand.
Cubs learn to take flight,
Dodging pixies dancing in the night.
Young bear cubs run through the forest,
They hunt out sleeping wood nymphs,
Making a game out of waking the beautiful girls.
With a whack of a branch the game ends,
But not without a satisfying laugh from the nymphs watching above.
An elf watches from above,
Drinking in the smiles of the night,
The twinkle of the stars,
And sighs of embrace.
What a night to be alive.
Jul 17, 2011
Jul 17, 2011 at 8:14 PM UTC
Thatcher vacuum seals nicotine
Slurps cigarette like mosquito
Ravenous lungs gnaw and grind for the slow pander,
Thatcher’s just another name for the labeling
We plaster and pine for an out,
Stitch that finite lie beneath squeamish child skin,
Thatcher’s the black lung paradise,
******* infancy coddling cigarette stifle,
The caloric crack of his canines fletching out lust and sickly groove
As he’s scopes out fiend and vexed vandals,
Clutches the sick theistic **********
Cuddle those bruise licked hips
Give God the gross percent,
Cause heaven’s in those greenbacks
and God’s in the ******* kick,
Suckling bout the American tip
The Christian capitol,
Seething on shadow puppet ****** and American dream,
Gods got nothing to do with the slickened crinkle of gain and glamour,
Thatcher’s just the candy man give and cult,
Cough the crutch of contagion greed
And clutch the cuff of your porcelain sleeve,
Thatcher gleans your blackest suite tight,
Struts raven blade shoulders perched on American made spine,
Thatcher does as Thatcher please,
Thatcher thinks as Thatcher bleeds,
And Thatcher bleeds venereal blend,
Gout with the American veneer of broken girl and scabbed moral traumatic,
Trauma tastes as the hollow pixies give out the get out,
Bandaged baby girls,
The teenage horror show,
Just another blazoned hit of one two take the hand me down generic give away,
Desensitize the humanize,
Girls got to get the days glossy puff and sniff,
Thatcher’s content to satisfy,
Callous coroner a spectator suckling Marlboro lick,
Lodging thick smoke and toxin between spittle slick lips,
Albino plumes clotting and unfolding,
Thatcher clicks back the cartridge
Filter and cigarette,
Thatcher gulps back the need because brain’s got a favoring kink for the buzz,
Thatcher sings with the screaming in his straggling lungs,
Hums the western creed
Laughs fickle with God at his need,
Thatcher’s the true American dream
Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 5:17 PM UTC
The poster girl of well-thumbed submission,
The American Nurses Association,
A narrow mouthed river in Oregon,
Charles Howard Hinton’s fourth dimension,
A track from Pixies Bossanova,
Antibodies,
Anorexia Nervosa.
Dec 29, 2013
Dec 29, 2013 at 7:30 PM UTC
Sleep well! And may the world you sleep in be kind and the world you dream in be colorful.
Let lust bearing pixies sprinkle their dust
About your room, so when you awake in the morning the dust will dazzle your slippered feet and make your tread to the bathroom a little softer.
And may I (you) wake up in the morning with
Sparkles in your eyes
And wholesomeness in your soul,
And let both the tint and hue in which you see the world through
Be bold and clear,
And soft and dreamy,
Without deceiving
Without sheltering you
And your unicorn dreams.
Jan 6, 2013
Jan 6, 2013 at 5:54 PM UTC
there was a little pixie he loved play the flute
he wore a funny hat and a bright green suit
playing lot of tunes while walking on his way
happy has can be he would play all day
one day he decided to take a little roam
all along the track of his forest home
suddenly he heard a funny little wail
it was a little squirrel he had trapped his tail
stuck in to a hole in a forest tree
he began to cry very sad was he
pixie he was clever and climbed up to the hole
to free the squirrels tail the poor little soul
pixie pulled him out now squirrel he was free
thank you said the squirrel thanks for saving me
they walked along together along the forest floor
squirrel he was happy and free again once more
pixie played a tune a lovely melody
he was very happy he set the squirrel free
they danced away together to pixies lovely tune
and danced the night away underneath the moon
Mar 5, 2014
Mar 5, 2014 at 9:12 AM UTC