Best Fanciful Poems
Moon shines its pale
Enchanting light
Upon forest floor
Where winged creatures
legendary, pale and sleek
Spin and flit and dance
To the invisible orchestra;
Of Blue bells ringing
Hummingbirds humming
Fireflies buzzing
And dandelions singing in tune
With lilting fairy song as they sing
Melodies that echo through forest pines
To the Fairy Queen bathed in the light of
The August moon
© Brenda V Northeast 12th July 2008 Rewritten on 21st/ 01/2012 BVN
Is it our age or present circumstances
that see childlike eyes grow dim
or is it living within our reality years
that lend whimsical thoughts so slim
If one could ride the notes in play
through a child’s imagination
One could laugh and dance anew
around each magical creation
Into the cosmos we could fly
gliding on winged compositions
On breathless notes of whimsy chance
exploring without constrictions
If one could row a boat through time
back into their youthful days
and reunite with that childlike wonder
it’s here I think we’d stay
©Debra Squyres 2014
Fanciful filigree faerie frolics
Garnishing grateful glittery gardenias
Heavenly hope heralding
Iridescent illusions imagining
joyous jumbled jubilation
FANCIFUL FREDA
Fanciful Freda
What you got for us
Ain't got a car
So you ride a bus
Fanciful Freda
What's its like to be you
Walking down the street
Wit no shoes on
8/16/18
written by James Edward Lee Sr.©2018
Sure... an old man in ballet slippers
can make you smile,
but soon, he too must
don overalls and mud boots.
Tabby cats turning cartwheels
and curly-haired dogs
in dotted clown suits
can take your mind to
funny places for awhile,
but eventually the crocodile circuses
and that tattooed frog
plowing apricot fields
must disappear, as forbidden
fruits cannot be glued
back onto trees.
So dream while you can,
go to whimsical isles,
drink coconut wine
and glide over the seas,
tango with lovers,
sing Sinatra songs,
cry with a friend and
jump in mud puddles-
forgive yourself and flout the wind
then begin the new day Hercules strong.
Where my hopes meet with
My dreams, heartfelt
Joy and brilliant imaginings kiss
Away the doubts, the demons
Who tempt me to listen
To the darkness, the dread, the depression
All the anxious that lives within
Where my skeptic is my biggest sinner…
There, amid the uncertainty
Knowing only a measure of hope,
Disquieted by the distrust, the mediocrity
I resolve to listen to the light
Who falls across the night and remembers
Stardust images erasing the timidness,
Freeing the inner joy, the music
Dancing through forever, promising
Pleasures that inspire fanciful,
Fantastic fantasies, happiness – elated
Wonders beyond description
Where I know the meaning of sweetness,
My muse reveals the soul’s breath
Mystery, blinding secrets who calm the darkness,
Erasing the past’s demonic screams
Coloring the future in vibrant hues of soothing
Blues and ecstatic yellows, purples
Who enchant and enliven, bright red – scarlet
Laughing across forever, reviving the spirit
So even the darkness is beyond grief,
It is like the song of grace has finally abandoned
Her heart to the knowing – the assurance
That miracles invite change,
Marvels so abundant in these days
Hold the key to forever, the amazing
The fantasy sighs, then sings
Across the pines, through the forest
Stirring waters in liquid clarity
This is where my light touches life
With humbling healing,
Magnificent music, peaceful like
Heaven who knows the way
Into the spectacular, the encouraging
Dance dreaming, drifting, destiny
Fulfilled inside the beating of a heart
Designed for more than earth,
A heart predestined for the fantasy
Who kisses away every reservation
With fanciful feelings, imaginary
Images, fiction focused
On giving the listener, a reality
Built on beautiful, brilliant
Based on the laughter, the feeling
Who fantasies know as the reflection
Breathing into my forever,
Hypnotizing, mesmerizing, beguiling
Every moment with captivating…
This fantasy, imaginary – is air to my soul
My muse, who can’t be controlled
Wave Of Fantasy Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mystic Rose Rose
February 6, 2023
S
U
P
E
R
C
A
L
Influence my haste to limit my view
F
R
A
G
Illuminate in me kinds words that do
L
Instill in me the nerve to answer true
S
T
Inspire in me the honest words for who
C
E
X
P
Impress a want for delicate empathy to pursue
A
L
Imbue a sparkle that will ever renew
D
O
C
Imagine the wrongs we can undo.
O
U
S
Fanciful Image
A golden crescent necklace
Adorning a cobalt sky
Creates a placid prayerful scene
And pensively I sigh...
If only everyone could see
Such scenes the way that poets do
Surely their minds would feel calm
And tranquility would ensue.
But this is merely poetic fancy
In a world beset by tribulation
Such whimsy is not often shared
By the general population.
So, I'll store this fanciful image
In my heart for beauty's sake
As I traverse this turbulent life
May its vibration follow in my wake.
Molly Moore
The Butterfly and Fanciful Flight
The butterfly flutters by,
With wings spread deliberately wide.
Its beauty is beyond the pale,
Impossible it is to hide.
It pauses as if frozen in time,
Awaiting a response from the crowd.
And immediately there comes a roar
She is instantly very proud.
And then as quickly as she appeared,
She was soon seen no more.
The crowd let out a groan,
As she flew to distant shore.
Why does the mind love those fanciful tales
of firey dragons and great dancing whales?
Easier to digest spurious tales gone awry
than to taste sweetness of questioning why.
January 27, 2022
Bite Size Poem #34
by Line Gauthier
Dancing on the edge of a razor and stool as my ropen neck tie stands taught in two dimensions. This precarious balancing act in which life consists stands directly in the way of cold embracing bliss offered by abyss.
And, I’m drowning.
Choking on what’s good and what isn’t anchors me in a state endured but not desired.
And, I’m tired.
The sunset on the horizon brightens and clears me as it does with the land but not with the same intensity. Though, it does with my shadows.
It does with my shadows.
Why, in some ways the land and I reflect as I with pond and mirror but in others as with I and stone. It’s a conundrum that I ponder quite often but never seem to tread.
And sometimes…I wish I were dead.
Like antique china that slips through clumsy fingertips
Shattered into tiny fragments
Unrepairable, unreplaceable
A blameless mistake
It's beauty disintegrates
Never to be appreciated again
By future enthusiasts
Like a daisy tweaked from the vast landscape
Once admired by all that stumbled upon it
Basking in the summer sun
Life dragged from its roots
Crippled at its fragile stem
It will never grow again
Petals float onto a zephyr
Carried away to where distant memories lie
Like A man surrounded by family, promises,
All snatched spontaneously away.
that love that encapsulates him
At first a void remains, as his memory lives on
Until it becomes so vague
It inevitably expires
Memories of illogical unreality saunter past my mind,
Planning expectations of a future with no feelings,
Deja vu days multiply with an intensity so unkind,
Happiness is eroded by endless waves of lapping sadness,
I fall weightlessly to the bottom of life's end,
Regrets dashed upon ragged rock thoughts that scream to confess,
My childhood laughter flows tears of wishful pretend,
As I wait helplessly at the back door of destiny,
Sharing Earth with billions I will never meet,
A poet joining lonely words into meanings of complexity,
I wander through imagination hoping to land on my feet.
Copyright © 2014 Robert William Gruhn - All Rights Reserved
"A poem to me is the essence of any thought,
Being built from its foundation into tower scraping sky.
It can fly like no other bird to places never seen,
Even spaceships can only dream of taking its place."
© 2014 Robert William Gruhn
I am fanciful,
Not factual.
I am frenzied,
Not famous.
I am fearless,
Not frightened.
I am fast,
Not fastidious.
I am friendly,
Not finicky
I am fruitful,
Not fixed.
I am not famished.
I am finished.
Farewell friends.
Your ideas are fanciful, friendly, airy-fairy.
The five-year-old smiled; this pleased her. She clapped her hands.
So we will use them! She said joyfully.
Not this time, her mother told her, but soon. Maybe next time.
What about a book? The five-year-old asked. Could we make my
ideas into a book?
It would be a fantastic book! Her mother agreed. Let’s get started.
And they did, it was the best book!
And it meant the world to many people, as it was
on the altar, next to the guest book next week when
relatives and friends arrived to honor the family
that had been killed by a drunken driver on his way
to a liquor store.
Two angels, writing a book about two angels.
Airy-fairy for sure.