what gives,
in tunnel waves,
a burial,
a three sixty
of tumbling
of the numbing
a red forest,
sleeping
needles here,
gently
pressing
against
her chest....
Painful
tomb,
not here,
near
to explode
near
her womb.
What's real,
a here,
of an object
of a princess
not crumbling
to your wishing
of her seas
Just leave
and her sleeves
in defense
of not wish to be.
England glides in grace.
Heartfelt Oak and Sage herald
Its faery language.
English lightens weight,
Glides through fae-tinged tales to wake
Syllabic rebirth.
Something about us I want nothing to change
I have nothing to give, yet you stay.
You told me im pretty
Now, i think I'm pretty too.
You told me im fun to be around
And now i think so too.
There are a lot of things that trouble me
And now i stand before it with you.
I don't know when we met for the first.
I don't know how we became best friends.
I don't know how this friendship turned into,
something so beautiful.
Something about us i want nothing to change
You have nothing to give, yet i stay.
He's a visual fusion of forest and inner flame,
A radiant pulse of abundance,
Clad in crafted clothing of galore,
Stitched in autumn tones from folklore.
He wears leaves of distinction, orange embers,
Yellow citrine, and emerald green.
He nurtures the woodlands in newborn sunrays
That fall through the morning haze,
Striking the heart where his roots belong,
Enhancing the mind with crystal clear gleam.
Twinkling truths highlight his daydreams.
The Green Man dances readily,
Saged in spirals for centuries,
Giving journeymen paths to fae lights,
Readily twisting around flowers, foliage, and sprites,
Stretched in sacred homage.
Breath in breeze
Body entwined with trees
By myth decreed
By birthright and galore
Wanderer between roots and stars forevermore.
DUST PIXIES INSIDE GRANNY’S CEDAR CHEST
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Amidst the ancient whispers of timeworn wood,
underneath time and the cedar’s scent
a gathering of dust pixies flutters, luminescent.
adventurous, bubbly, curious, daring, effervescent.
Their xerophytic murmurs fill the attic air;
dancing on sunbeams upon gossamer wings,
these aerial acrobats ballet on dust motes illuminantly.
flecks glimmer, hundreds invade jubilantly.
Prismatic creatures of color, lively as summer’s breeze,
they celebrate the dust, mundane
journeying through mystical realms where they reign.
kaleidoscopic, luminous, microscopic, numerous, opulent.
Zipping back into the cedar’s shadows,
innocent guardians of memories hide in forgotten linens,
their fleeting glimpse of magic locked away.
playful, quirky, restless, synchronous, twinkletoes
strongest cloven fiend
a face adored by Venus
beautiful bestial body
so loved by God in Genesis
take the crimson string
tied upon his velvety hide
red thread cuts the skin
ankles bound for the ride
hoisted on the mantle
an all engulfing spiral
upon pearlescent horns
blackish fur of desire
dark red heart
beating at his side
a full blooded kiss
could never be denied
From her delicate wings a fine powder exudes and lands on the ground
by the light of the blue harvest moon a touch of Pixie Dust, in nimble magic !
Harmonious weaving, intangible strands of music coming from the sphere
sweet and beautiful arias, melodious twittering from a fairy wing's enfold
Wings not made of nylon, cellophane nor iridescent tulle but made of silk
like spider's webs tough and resilient from the Master Spinners pedipalps
Appendage wings made from embryonic liquid from ejected Neutron Stars
like butterflies they flit and fly through air currents, landing on little twigs;
Fairy dust of old as ancient as the parallels from this world to the next
dare say I, ... if ever you have been subjected to their fairy dust appeal
then flying limbs you shall receive and like it or not you will fly away
inside a land of pure magic where every thought is like a sweet reveal
From her delicate hand a sweep of the wand resting easy on your shoulder,
one single dose is feathered on you and suddenly, you are able to hold her !
Harry is dying, being moved quickly to purgatory.
this I have to admit is a never-ending familiar story
he is not ready to go to heaven or hell
what he has done, only the angels can tell
the powers that are from the P Star which now doth appear
sends in Fluffy fuzzy faerie, who always leads recruits here
She wears a pretty costume and shows them how to fly
After waking him up, she brings Harry up to the sky.
Once upon a time long gone …
The reigning queen let out a yawn,
And stood up from her regal throne
To trample down the hall alone
She ripped the crown from out her hair
And flung it out the window there,
It tumbled down the castle wall …
No knight or king did hear it fall
And off the ground it did bounce
The crown rolled out into a flounce,
Tumbling down into the moat
And thankfully it did not float
A queen no more and yet she smiled
Chuckling, whooping and skipping wild,
Saying goodbye to the castle rafter …
She'd found her happily ever after.
Once upon a happenstance,
she fell into a swift trance.
This view felt ordinary,
that was what made it scary.
Every flower was in bloom,
still you should never assume.
Spots of energy raging,
can you feel what it’s staging?
With that sweet breath of magic,
nothing here could be tragic.
Timeless beauty’s engaging,
the Fey have be-spelled aging.
A wand touching a mushroom,
you hear its rhythm go vroom.
There is a weight to carry
to take in this scenery.
A victim of circumstance,
once upon a happenstance.
its whimper sounds like a whisper, it slips as it slithers away
the loud fear it left on my mind still spins my spine
i run, forgetting my heart is still hanging in my mouth~
it pounds like a tornado blowing through my veins
the ricochets of its anger shudder even my tiniest nerves
our nights and days will never cross paths again.
When the seed of fear is planted in minds,
It germinates in brains as a tormentor—
Sometimes sown by a whisper,
a shadow,
a lie repeated twice.
When illusion becomes reality,
And starts by making the heart
skip a beat,
then more of its beats,
then all of its beat.
It creates monsters in our eyes in the dark,
Born from our own imaginations.
And it can make them fly,
swirl,
drawl,
crawl,
and do anything—
Make our hairs stand on end,
Our feet walk on eggshells,
on a slippery slope.
It can crimp us into a shrimp.
When it creeps into our grip,
It brings a nice gift of heebie-jeebies—
That send us on a purposeless,
directionless meander,
Like a chicken with head just severed
and left unrestrained.
Fear teaches our hands to fight,
And reaches our legs to take flight,
But it’s never patient to judge us right,
Even when fear is out of sight.
When the seed of fear is well tendered,
Fear can even make us no longer
fear fear.
When its taproot has eaten deep
into the hypothalamus,
Then the mind is already gnawed by monsters
That, time and again, we created
out of nothing.
I went to a land of little
A place of lovely smiles
Candle sticks and butter cups
Clothes of many styles
She gazed at me
With crinkled eyes
She said “you’re just a boy”
“But, I”m all of sixty four”
“So what, embrace your joy.”
Tiny hands and tiny feet
Flowing yellow hair
She flew about as fairies do
I couldn’t believe that she was there
The path before me
Stones and grass
The air it smelt so sweet
Butterflies with glowing eyes
Guided me to a seat
Animals and people too
Even Tiny tinker tots
Danced about with such glee
Amidst the Forget me nots
My problems shrunk to little
As I grew in joy
Sixty four’s just a number
After all, I'm just a boy.
Love is strange
Oh so strange
One day strong
And then dead
Oh so dead
Left alone
Oh so alone
So you say
I’ll never love again
Can’t say I blame you
My old friend
For the same thing
Happened to me
And my tears
Still know no end
Just like me
You’ll never be the same
A reminder of
Love’s cruel game
So drink up
And hear my tale
Of a love so strong
And now so gone
Why does it hurt
To love
Why must it
Be so
Why can’t love
Be simple
Why can’t love
Be true
Why can’t love
Be forever
Why can’t love
Hold through
To love is to hurt
Love is pain
Why is it so
Why is it true
Love is not simple
Love is not free
Not like the fairy tales
For you or for me
by Russ Dodson (c) 1968. 2025
I've never had a unicorn
because I couldn't catch one
and I know no virgin maid
whom I could send to fetch one
Specific Types of Fairy Poems
Definition | What is Fairy in Poetry?
Poems Related to Fairy
imp, goblin, gnome, leprechaun, gremlin, siren, enchanter, nymph, puck, elf, brownie, pixie, genie, spirit, fay, hob, sprite, sylph, bogie, mermaid, nisse,