Best Fey Poems
The hoot owl was on the fiddle, the frog was dancing away.
Faeries, brownies and Luna moths joined in this October day.
Their frolicking was so much fun, they brought in a blue jay.
He stood back by the piano, giving their jive a bit of sway.
Nothing gloomy about tonight, they finally said as day went away.
They were now dancing in the moonlight, with a sky of gray.
The hoot owl gave the fiddle playing over to his cousin Shay.
The dancing continued through the night until the next day.
Elfin princess accompanied by heavenly butterflies
The oak trees feel her presence and genuflect in reverence
Spirit brings her into their world of bark and twigs
She appreciates their deference, admiring their flexibility
The oaks admire her ability to wind walk; they are entranced.
Butterflies fly against the wind, bringing their beloved to the forest
Owl is quieted. A wolf howls to remind the trees of the prophecy.
All is right in the woods tonight, the fey begin to dance.
The tree house was massive; it held a village of gnomes.
Had a plethora of projects, apartments, huts and homes.
The faeries soon joined them and named it Faerie Town.
Who do they think they are? Asked a gnome in an azure gown.
The trolls were excited about the tree, and the next to move in.
They brought a juiciness to the village that seemed like a sin.
This mystical oak was joyful, the most excited I’d ever seen.
Why not? It held the largest fey village in the forest of green.
Elf awaits faerie’s invitation bright
Decorated with a darling cherry,
Faerie leaves an invite to elf at night.
She is fond of this fey named Harry.
Engage in festival, very merry.
Brownies, elves, and faeries, happily dance.
It’s the best jamboree in southern France.
Fey leaf cloaks are being created by faerie artisans in the midst of the veil
Maple tree is smiling, recognizing many of the offerings from his own limbs
Sycamore takes credit for a few, as does elm, but fir tree is silent
Thinking his offerings are not good enough, is something wrong with him?
It is not you, he is reassured by robin, you are my salvation in the winter.
The other trees offer me no coverage whatsoever, I count on you.
This cheers him up considerably, as he watches the witches’ movements.
They parade through the forest in their ethereal finery of tangerines and browns
Portal to land of the fey
Opens up in unicorn bay
The horses there all have a horn
Because each one is a beautiful unicorn
There are rainbows too, and a waterfall
We love being there, land of the fey welcomes all
Faeries, brownies and elves come to get refreshed.
Some are covered up well, others skimpily dressed.
magical fey conjured up a new mushroom house in a tiny cloud
frequented by caterpillars and ants, but bees are not allowed
some of the honeybees and wasps are forming an angry mean crowd.
hear buzzing? They are storming the street, and boy are they loud.
Loud and proud joined by hornets, humans are cowed.
bitsy tiny faerie wearing her hair in a knotted braided bun.
heard what was happening and flew over to have a bit of fun.
her glistening wings were Vitamin D'd up by the sun.
bee brewery is open, and the vats are ready for honey,
come on in, and bring your combs, and we’ll pay you money.
bumblebees paid up quickly, they had plenty of loot.
stingy wasps and hornets flew off, each in a lively pursuit.
knee-playing fiddler grasshoppers and ants ran out the back door.
Once again, the faerie got rich, her name was Mrs. Livermore.
I don't know why this is. I'm in total dismay
but lately I seem to be obsessed with Tina Fey.
When I look at her I see the Marilyn Monroe of today
and I'm at a total loss as to why I feel this way.
The tiny dragons dance aloft
whilst dragonflies soar amuck
They dance over the lake, over the lake they waft
The huffle-winks peer from the muck
At the bright flittering troupe
Dancing over the water, dancing by the brush
Those dancing dragons, how they swoop!
The water ripples under
They spin, twirl and dive, such an acrobatic group
Huffle-winks leap to the flutter
Dancing over the dark lake
Prancing glad with the rest, 'til, alas, it's over
Patrick Brennan enters the Craic Pub
His wife is at home, twisting her Celtic knot necklace
Enticing him to come home early, before he is too far into the cups
Gaelic love sent to him courtesy of her Great Grandmother Magda
Magda was a female druid, and her essence lingers.
She is one of her namesake’s spiritual guides.
She follows him from the Craic to the Brazen Head
Giving him severe messages that he is to return home.
Patrick hears the voices, his grandfather was fey, was he not?
He was going to have a couple of drinks and then head to O’Donoghues.
He reaches into his pocket and discovers the Druid sign.
Tree and full moon, unity between the Gaelic and nature.
He turns instead toward home, having no idea that he has been manipulated.
His grandfather and her great grandmother follow him along the path.
Awen's new ideas for next folk song, shows him lyrics that are available.
Wife is thrilled to see husband return so early. Knowing not her role in this.
bestowing generational survival skills
and desirable traits –
for e o n s
She led mankind to be
a better version of itself—
wishing for a fairy godmother
l o s e sight of
the W~E~L~L of W~I~S~D~O~M from within –
poised to be
r e l e a s e d …
It’s said that, if you find Pan
when he’s unaware, he has to give you his
magic panpipes.
I do covet that sound;
that ethereal, lilting, chiming
sound; it’s tranquilizing harmony.
And so, I’ve hunted him since I was a kid;
in every greenwood, forest and hedgerow;
every mountain and emerald dale.
Ever-elusive faun...I feel as though
he’s watching me; they also say...
the trees will cloak him...
Portal to land of the fey
Opens up in unicorn bay
The horses there all have a horn
Because each one is a beautiful unicorn
There are rainbows too, and a waterfall
We love being there, land of the fey welcomes all
Faeries, brownies and elves come to get refreshed.
Some are covered up well, others skimpily dressed.
Brownie, elf, gnome, pixie and fey
Walked to large mushroom store on the bay
Met a grouchy gargoyle along the way
He was made of concrete, all gravelly gray
She was a sexy young mosquito named Fey
Had no qualms about chewing your flesh away
We did not realize what a hard bug she was
Until she flew in and began chewing on Cuz.
Cuz let out a shriek, and slapped her arm very hard.
Fey flew away, but threw down a poem by a bard.
Poem said simply she had most particular taste.
She needed the blood type of my cousin, Big Waste.
Big Waste was the kind who got puffed up quite quickly.
Rolled up her sleeve and invited Fey to dine slickly.
Fey had to be coaxed for she was a player.
She burrowed down under BW’s skin layer.
Ouch! Big Waste said. Can you dine a bit faster?
Fey brought in brothers making lunch a crazy disaster.
Someone ran for mosquito repellent and brought out a spray.
Which ended the cousins and that arrogant bully named Fey