By fairydancer
deep within the forest of Jonteray
beside the vast Osirian sea
an old woman wandered
slowly rambling every river's vale
climbing each tree capped mount
in search of the last Thrimble trunk
to grace her final gift upon
cast out by heartless son
for she was no more use to him
she laid her weary head and hand
against the weathered bark
and thought of all she'd seen and done
from rainbow swans to flying sprees
and in the thinking of
produced a single tear
which coursed through ancient veins
transpired as sap
within her dying breath
and here, where Nightlarks gaily sing
there dawned a wondrous spark
that danced upon the lichens wrap
and brightly shone
throughout the verdant bower
before the eyes of Bracket's fawns
the light began to fade
and turn to fresh pink skin
as soft as petals of the rose
hair like gossamer
her feet as dainty as the light
reflected from the blooms
of the purest Honesty plant
her view as clear as fogless days
moons rode by on starry chariots
a century of suns graced the sky
until one day she had a glimpse
of a thing she'd spied before
though it seemed an eon ago
it was the look of death
raised in a young man's eyes
that scanned and scoped her tree's delight
as if to weigh it up
so when he rested hands
upon her treasured leaves
she turned into a roe
that darted with seductive poise
to draw him right away
and when this boy, he stayed his course
she formed into the reddest plum
and hung upon a branch
to catch his greedy eye
yet still he carried on
and as he raised his axe
she changed into a bear
and knocked him off his feet
for never could she harm him
her magic nearly spent
she wondered hard
considered long...
what could this young man want?
and in the thinking of
she gathered bluebell juice
to weave the finest dress
red poppy peel to stain her lips
and cast her final spell
before his axe, it fell again
there stood a young princess
one fit for any king
(with torpid opium on her lips)
but this young knave was not so royal
yet cruel to his core
and in the thinking of, he merely laughed
for he was wise to all her tricks
and only wanted what would fit
into his deepest purse
for Thrimble trees be magic
that richly compensate
and with each deepening strike
he smiled
to watch her plead and cry
then just before his terminal blow
he looked straight in her eyes
and laughed to say "farewell"
when suddenly
she faded
then she disappeared
love lay bleeding
as angel's trumpets blew
in deeper cerise hues
and wept their floral tears
at the place where she had stood
when in their midst
a single viridian dancer rose
from a solitary nut
lifting arms up to the sky
and in the sole dew pearl
that formed like magic on one hand
there twinkled a familiar spark
one set to shine for a thousand years
for that old woman was destined
to long outlive her wicked son!
| Author Notes |
Flowers mentioned: honesty, angel's trumpet (tree datura, Brugsmania spp.), love lies bleeding.
Made up words: Jonteray, Osirian, Thrimble, Bracket's fawns, Nightlarks. Gossamer - spider's webs that float on the breeze or cling to trees Viridian - green Verdant - leafy, green Torpid - sleepy Cerise - pink |
By fairydancer
have you ever become aware
of your mind whispering to you?
telling you paranoia is sometimes real
then the fears in your nightmares suddenly appear
have you tasted the air
when it's turned thick?
felt it burn its way in
but fail to come out
have you suffered claws so quick, you didn't see them
tearing at your throat, until slowly but surely
they pierce your lungs with blunt thuds
forcing them to drown in your own blood?
have you heard screaming so loud
it makes your eardrums bleed
veins burst and eyeballs willingly rip their muscles
then recognised your own voice?
have you strained to focus
through bloodstained tears
and found there's nothing there
but blackened despair?
have you realized your body is so far gone
that the only course left
is death
and the prospect makes you happy?
and have you ever thought
on Hallows' Eve
it might be fun to see a ghost?
well think again!
| Author Notes |
Thank you to lilacCollas for this great artwork.
|
By fairydancer
aromas of lavender soap
still sharp to wider nostrils
diffuse the stagnant air
dust dances in each sunbeam
where chocolate curls once bounced
and bobbed with flair
silk dresses adorn satin hangers
behind walnut doors
and a solitary ballerina stands
unloved upon the chiffonier
"once upon a time..."
enrichs this happy boudoir no more
where cherry red smiles
giggled in harmony with emerald eyes
and a Princess laid down the law
behind this door that no one opens anymore
but for once a year
when a lady who stoops lower with every visit
comes to shed a tear
but always seems to leave smiling
with the memories she enjoys here
echoes she keeps in sacred store
behind her heart's door
| Author Notes |
"Wider nostrils" signifies aged (as we get older our noses get bigger)
Chiffonier - tall chest of drawers Free style poem with some rhyming (but NO set meter and NO set rhyme style). |
By fairydancer
The sun was belting down,
the day was sweltering
when young Timmy Bolton
asked his Mother kindly
"What is for dinner?"
With a hidden look
and a very sly grin
she slowly said
"ummm, tomato omlettes
for starters, I think"
then she held a pensive gaze
for what seemed like an age
"yes, jam roly poly for pud"
thinking it would be a winner.
Poor Timmy's face sank,
salad
he thought,
that's what I wanted.
Crispy wet lettuce
he could shake at his sister and make her squeal,
cucumber sticks
he could crunch and make Dad frown,
and those little tomatoes he could squash
between tongue and roof of mouth
then send the pips flying in his sisters eye.
His Mother smiled
as she came from the kitchen.
"We're low on milk
and we have no icing sugar,
all the shops are shut"
Timmy knew what she'd say next
it was the same every week.
"Be a sweety Timmy,
pop and see the neighbours,
ask Mrs Green,
tell her I'll replace in the week"
So bag in hand
off Timmy set for Mrs Green.
He cringed as he knocked,
he knew what she'd do
"Ah hello my love,
let me give you a kiss"
"My Mum sent me over
to ask for some icing sugar
if you've got it
and maybe some milk?"
"Of course my deary
you just wait there"
..."here we go then,
and in this brown bag
is a gift for your Mum,
now, give it her unopened, mind
and you have a good day!"
Duly young Timmy
returned with his package,
still dreaming of
crunchy scallions
and squashy red tomatoes,
but alas
as he opened the door
the smell of baking
filled his nose.
"Put it on the table"
said his Mother
"and then I need another favour,
we need some tomatoes,
can you ask Mr Thomas
...the small ones, you know"
Oh yes, Timmy knew,
imagining the soft pulp
squishing as he bit
and dripping down his chin.
He liked old Mr Thomas
he made him laugh,
with his cheeky way
and winking eye.
"Timmy, my boy
just the man I wanted,
in this brown paper bag
is a gift for your Mum,
can you give it her,
no peeking mind
and these tomatoes too."
"Thanks Mr Thomas
that's what I came for"
"Come in, have some juice first
...now you have a good day!"
So Timmy returned,
looking at the tomatoes
nestling in the bag,
still longing to taste,
he put his hand in
as his Mother
opened the door
"Now you give those to me
and go and play till it's ready."
About an hour later
the call came for dinner.
But as he sat down
he noticed no food on the table,
his sister was smiling
when the lights went out,
10 little flames floated into the room
(the lights went on)
atop a big sponge cake
with jam and butter icing.
"Happy Birthday Timmy"
the chorus came,
along with
crispy wet lettuce,
crunchy cucumbers,
ham, cheese, scallions
and
SQUASHY RED TOMATOES!
Timmy's face lit up
as his hands were everywhere
grabbing and feeling
all the food he could eat,
then came those brown paper bags:
from Mrs Green,
a bright red tractor
and from Mr Thomas,
a whoopy cushion!
He ummed and arrred
as he ate with relish
his birthday dinner
and he laughed
as he realised the tricks they'd played,
as his sister
stuck her tongue out at him.
He aimed, he fired,
ooh, right in the eye
with the pips of his juicy ripe
squashy red tomato!
| Author Notes |
A big thank you to tcobbin for use of this artwork (Tomato Feast).
jam roly poly = traditional English pudding made with suet pastry scallions = spring / salad onions (...and YES it was a huge squeeze to write this in the time, but the story just flowed, so I was lucky!) |
By fairydancer
.
T'was a beautiful day in June
in the land of Picketyfleet,
when young Master Dawnspinner woke
in his mouses's home of pure wheat.
The golden sun was resplendent
and the fields were burning with heat,
His mother sent him to fetch ears
of corn, and raindrops wrapped in leaves,
and though his heart was filled with fears,
he soon was gathering from sheaves,
and puddle in the leafy scene;
just one more ear he must retrieve.
He felt a shadow aimed at him;
when balanced on his heighty perch,
t'was too late when mousey saw him -
a barn owl swooped from lofty birch.
He knew t'would be the death of him,
when mighty bird of prey did'st lurch.
T'would surely be a sin he thought,
for one so young, to have life cut short.
He closed his eyes and thought of Mum,
so sure he was that he'd be caught.
"Help!" he repeated parrot like,
as he felt a breeze of strange sort .
Now time had passed, yet there he stood,
but nothing now was left above.
He turned around and had to laugh,
when bird did land on falconers glove;
he praised his life and "Mighty Mouse",
and then returned to Mothers' love.
.
| Author Notes |
Thank you to GaliaG for this beautiful artwork
Story poem about young Master Dawnspinner, a harvest mouse who lives in a wheat field, in the land of "Picketyfleet" I am counting 'Falconer's' as 2 syllables (falc-ners) Contest announcement: The challenge is to write a poem that includes (7 out of 8 of) the words provided. Your poem can be of any type. The words: laugh - sin - death - parrot - scene - beat - wheat - heat I have used all of them. |
By fairydancer
.
the last ray of light
began to form, then radiated bright,
crescendos of sunbeams
dissipating through the cosmos;
but oh how beautiful it had once been,
the brightest star ever to be seen,
was Hope
now scarred by old age,
its time had come,
it suffered much
to see the lives that flourished once
upon its planets,
depart one by one;
as the last drop of water
shrank slowly, then evaporated
upon their now parched surfaces,
so many lands of fertile, luscious green,
forever departed the starry scene
loneliness crawled into every crevice,
and like a parasitic disease
despair crept in
yet even in death, it showed pure grace
as its molten core shot through its face,
it burned so bright
the light travels still
through distant spaces,
lighting up the darkest places
and much to its surprise,
a chunk remained,
death had refrained
from swallowing it whole,
the great creator had a different plan;
its fragment span and swirled in space
until it felt a gaseous embrace,
where upon it's momentum
fumbled once again upon gravitation,
its limbs broke off to form new planets
while its soul relit with pure white fusion
and so it shines again,
the centre of a new solar system,
its light filtering through each dark domain
that gives our souls the chance anew
to live in bodies with sensations,
to make our mistakes
and face our temptations,
to take of our great Creator's gracious gift
and make of it what we will,
it's precious light, our Hope still
| Author Notes |
Thanks to jgrace for this beautiful artwork
Just a poem about a star called "Hope" who having given life to one solar system, supernova's. Part of this supernova then forms a new solar system. The science bit: "The sun was created from a cloud of gases in space, approximately 4.6 billion years ago. The cloud was comprised mostly of hydrogen with a bit of helium but, also, had many chunks of debris in it. The debris was made of elements and compounds that include Water, Iron, Methane, and many other heavier heavy elements. This causes scientists to believe that at least part of the cloud was the remnants of the supernova of a much older star. A passing star or other massive body perturbed the gaseous mixture into gravitational clumping and rotation. As the cloud became more dense, the intense heat and pressure caused nuclear fusion to begin in the center of the cloud forming the sun and spinning action caused the heavy elements and compounds to spin to the the outer regions of the cloud and began forming the planets." Taken from: http://www.answerbag.com/q_view/1544005#ixzz0vg1kuRCZ |
By fairydancer
.
a million moons ago
a star adorned the earth
with constant warmth and love,
forever Summer ruled it's girth
as sun commanded space above
gallant Prince Summer
daily bade the beautiful blossoms to bloom
the grass to breathe and sigh
babies to form in the womb
and fruit to ripen on the vines
so every creature on land or sea
would never go hungry
he aided nature in her wondrous feats
and yet he walked alone
in passions heat
so from his treasured Earth
was forged for him a lover,
melding mystic potions
of a cool mountain stream
with the soul of azure oceans
and a fraction of it's heart to make a dream
as Lady Winter took her place aside him
at her beauty he was ablaze
a belle in ashen white and sky blue
rapt in moonstone glaze
but her soul proved hard and cold
and tried to freeze the Prince's heart
so she could rule his precious land
and so he knew she must depart
and tried to cast her from it's sands
but alas, this Lady's power was great
as once their love was strong,
she persuaded him to share the earth
but forever she would change it's song
for Lady Winter was a woman scorned
and so she eagerly decreed
that half the trees, so beautifully adorned
would lose their leaves straight after their seed,
and during her reign
no flowers would be seen
no babes would leap and dance,
as all earth's flora would lie dormant
and everywhere creatures would sleep,
and all this she would achieve
with a half yearly bitter freeze
this spite, it angered Summer beyond repair
and in his suffering and pain
he created Spring and Autumn
so he would never see Winter again
.
| Author Notes | Thank you to lilacCollas for this beautiful artwork. |
By fairydancer
sun’s glowing rays
bless Chanel’s weathered fingers with a warm kiss
beguiling weary eyes with a rich smile
she knows she will die
yet no tears abide
daisies sway and pitch
as if shaking their lazy heads of the sloth
of the hot noon
scents of lemon mint rising
flowing, swelling each thoughtful reflection
heathers hang on the hillside
~ as dainty as the embroiderie anglaise
dripping from her pockets ~
and cling to every nook and cranny
to soak up each morning globe of dew
sweet violet hues caress her eyes
with memories of lavender
which gaily flirted along the rues of St Saturnin-les-Apt
golden pigtails tickling her china cheeks
dreams laid with every footprint
stamped in gentle loam
1938, waves of warm amethyst
wander and stretch
across the horizon
before the stench and squall
of a mad machine
churned through the land
disrespecting, destroying
manipulating, mutilating,
wrenching quiet souls from their tranquil spaces
sweat dripping down their fearful faces
fell not upon those sun-drenched fields
but drummed like thunder
on concrete and steel
hearts ripped asunder
ripples shaking, vibrating
right to the core
drenching the sod in beloved blood
life as cheap as the dirt to which it was returned
~ dust to dust
ash to ash ~
whole winters passed in one summer’s day
yet each heart retained the scent
of thriving lavender
and grew stronger in the wake
appreciating each tender blade of grass
every gentle zephyr’s whisper
the quietest plash of rain
her Maman planted alliums near Papa’s grave
~ five lilac heads rising in praise
of his bravery ~
floating in the breeze like mist-filled pearls
on a sea of peaceful green
and in time
her precious lavender seeped
and spilled in between
filling the gaps that were left
a few heads still sweeten Chanel's lace
as they lie in the locket
upon her now-still chest
her azure eyes smiling
transfixed on the sunlight
which carries her heart on
to Papa’s quiet sea
| Author Notes |
Not the usual depiction of summer, I know, but summer flowers, and particularly their scents and colours, can be powerful memory-triggers. Free verse poetry with occasional rhymes. Memoires de lavender = memories of lavender. Chanel = an old French girl's name. Weathered = aged. Rues (French) = streets. Plash = a light splash (to splash water about, a small pool or puddle.) |
By fairydancer
soft chocolate locks
dust his shoulders
like autumn's leaves
fallen from the tree
she sweeps them away
prays for a Spring renewal
"so handsome", she smiles
now let's have some fun
as out from her basket
comes the Gingerbread man
"we'll dress him in finery before you go in
he can wait here with me, until you come out"
sweet spice exploding in thin air
amidst the antiseptic tones
"how many buttons, son?"
"can we have ten?"
"I'm not sure we'll fit them
we need a bigger man
we'll stick them on you
there's plenty of glue"
"let's have one red and then one blue
you know I will always be with you"
"right here in my heart
just above my cake
but there's no need to worry
I'll see you when you wake
...two shoes, two eyes
what else do we need?"
"the most important thing
on a gingerbread boy"
and as she watches there appears
a smile ear-to-ear
made of icing and sprinkles
as red as the poppies
they both hold so dear
"remember me like this
with a smile on my face
a spring in my step
but each hair in its place"
"time to go now"
says nurse with a grin
a quick trip on the ward train
we all know you'll win
aqua blue drops
dust her shoulders
each one the weight of a boulder
as petals drip drop
on the tiny white coffin
her heart slow-blowing away
like ash on the Southern wind
then a sea of red
grabs the corner of her eye
poppies everywhere
his last goodbye
and slowly but surely
a beam grins ear-to-ear
as she remembers with joy
all the smiles she has seen
on her gingerbread boy
| Author Notes | The grief of a mother who loses her son during an operation to try to save his life. |
|
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