Rime Couee 1, 2, and 3
I.
Floating across a cool, bright beam
Drifting inside a peaceful dream
Sacred geometry
Builds the structures that bring great peace
Making the restless chaos cease
Engaging symmetry
II.
Envision Rowans in colors
Wing-ed bright spirits, light bearers
Green boughs of Oak shield you!
Gliding through enchanted grove space
Blessed by Moonlight's silver grace
Wheel of Seasons anew
III.
Floating in the oaken moon beam
Whispering ancient faery dreams
Dreamy knots-work sculptures
Star groves, my sparkly bright office!
Where this dreamer goes to practice
Intuitive culture
IV.
With psychic, angelic infrastructure!
Spiraling aloft!
Tipsy hustled through the doorframe, the hinges depleted of rust but sheered off by the sudden wind, roaring against the aged timbers, like solid oak castings that rift through the very door, a silent echo, transdimensional, of the past, and now the present card, the leery often dialect, like cheerful noise should fay like fairies outside of whom whisper sonnets without much boys.
Baby tooth left under pillow
Next morning,nothing there.
Stolen,perhaps by a toothless Fairy.
The Sky Shines (through my unconscious, aligned).
The sky shines deep within my awakened mind.
Bright particles beam through my open thoughts;
Clairvoyance shows the path that I have sought.
While walking, dreams are left so far behind!
I'm weaving a gossamer veil that I'll bind
With all the rainbow colors now combined.
This is the path that dreamers long have sought.
The sky shines.
Don't be afraid of these sweet faery signs.
You are a brilliant light that underlines
The wild enchantment of a magic knot
That you might see in my paper's ink blot!
Let your mind be bright, free, and unconfined.
The sky shines!
The little folk dance
And laugh with glee,
Sticking their tongues out
And pointing at me,
With my head in a hole
And my feet up a tree.
There's a giant sunflower
Growing on top of my head
And crows are pecking at my skull
Full of black oily seeds
On a lustrous November night
Along each gliding way;
The thrill of my childhood beckoned
Into the woods that day--
Where in the hush so intricate
That pulsed lithesome yet clear,
I heard a dulcet voice singing
Only those pure may hear-
A jingle through fall's pewter leaves
A quiver through the boughs ...
Till a maiden fey drifted by
My, that was long ago
Did some young magic enthrall me?
I'll really never know !
1st place
The hummingbird rests lightly on a tree branch,
its small body stilled beneath a pink hibiscus crown.
Soft green wings glow in the pink dusk,
blue feathers gathered like a skirt around its form.
Only when the light tilts do you see her~
arms folded gently over that blue-feathered dress,
a tiny fairy caught in a moment of dreaming,
as if sleep itself had lifted her from the air
and set her down in the stillness between worlds.
The workshop doesn't teach poetry.
It simply preserves
the threads of voices
woven into
words and emotions.
The diwata believes that every poem carries
a piece of its poet's soul.
Time stands still
in this enchanted world.
In the cloudless sky,
the stars dance
around the moon.
Beyond the window,
alitaptap drift
across endless fields
of sampaguita flowers.
Their fragrance lingers
in every corner
of the workshop.
Fairy tales delight
White Pretty Horses with horns
Lies make me Dizzy
To be able to hear
the pleading messages
of the foremothers
is to know deeply
the healing light
of the dark moon.
One will know if
they've always been
the type of person
to heal the ones
shining brighter
than the sun.
Or will soon see them
as a once-thriving garden
that did not fully bloom,
with cold and dried stems
and dated petals that
have already fallen.
Note: This poem is about nature spirits.
I like to sit down and smoke sometimes late at night
while listening to music online to reflect on my life
and think
About why we as a species even go out of our way
to bash and hate and shame all those who are very
openly distinct
And why our society likes to shame my people into
hating themselves and denying and hiding who they
truly are
And why my people’s special attributes end up forsaken
and crudely positioned on the blankened faces
of other stars
Eventually the skies replied to my inquiry with bold,
intense storms of powerful lightning and
strong thunder
A fae then arrived and told me that so many of the people
around us are very disconnected from
whimsy and wonder
Note: I'm aware it's mostly global warming but one can't help but wonder if perhaps a lot of what's going on now is spiritual. Honestly, I think it is. But I'd rather let the weather experts do most of the talking while I continue to play with my imagination. Don't take this poem literally.
Six candles on your birthday cake
We have many more wishes to make
On this day, let there be endless fun
With days of fairy tales creeping in
Toddler to preschooler to schoolgirl
Let the year ahead be more joyful
You are moving ahead with time
I won't get a chance to go back in time
But I swear, to put my greeting in rhyme
I am sure, now you can read and write
Cheer with rainbow colours so bright
From scratches to sketches, you moved on
To draw the figures of your choice
Oh! Saanvi, it is gala time for us to rejoice.
Naked witchlings rooted in my head
While the sun was sleeping under my bed
Counting their fingers, scribbling spells
Burning candles, ringing bells
Killing cats and gutting rats
Reading runes and epithets
Did I say they were naked
There is that....
they've been a thousand lifetimes getting here
I'll give them a thousand more
To get out of my hair
D.C. Jordan
The magic happens at sunrise.
The wood faeries run to remain unseen.
The Sun stretches and greets its subjects.
One kiss here another there.
AP: 3rd place 2026
Fairy Categories
Definition | What is Fairy in Poetry?
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.
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