Foxglove faeries flitting freely,
tiny little ethereal sweeties;
picking blossoms to make hats,
faerie boys make themselves spats.
Mice, moths and butterflies,
are there strictly to apprise,
they're tiny judges of latest styles,
those faerie designs are really wild!
Among the flowers faeries flutter,
flying smoothly as hot butter;
wispy wings transparent be,
lovelier than the dogwood trees.
Fading blossoms made into clothes,
are fitting for the likes of those;
elementals craft some lovely things,
of colors fit for queens and kings.
If these faeries you ever espy,
say nothing and just pass on by;
disturb them not amid their duties,
just be pleased you glimpsed these cuties.
Home from School
A little stream by the village bridge.
Clear cold water over jagged stones
searched for pieces of china in the mud
as we meandered slowly home.
Once-treasured patterns and bits of bones and
a black eel,rolling wave,burrowing far.
We sucked sweet nectar from fuchsia flowers
on our way home from school
Sometimes on lazy summer days,
When the workmen were on the road,
We pressed our toes in black tar bubbles,
And an asphalt oily smell, followed us home
A robin's nest was a sacred find
purple foxglove,waving our fairy hands
a homemade doll,yellow plaited straw
treasures home from school
Off for milk to Twomey's farm,
huge cow-beasts, dirty, with leather-silk skin
in September our berry purple mouths
a juicy feast all the way home
floral medicine
in the flower bed
foxglove
Among these wonderful flowers,
I could sit here for many hours,
winding vines among the bowers;
they have power, they have power.
I will watch family of doves,
with their little ones high above,
just above me and these foxgloves;
those babes above, those babes above.
Such gentle joys that met my eyes,
something quite small I did surmise,
gave me a wonderful surprise;
such creatures wise, such creatures wise.
It was a fairy on a fox,
I dropped my bagel and my lox,
they walked out of my garden rocks;
oh what a shock, oh what a shock!
She said Foxglove is good for hearts?
this information she imparts,
used in the medicinal arts;
then they depart, then they depart.
Translucent is the beauty of the foxglove flower,
hiding is something they never ever do;
find them in a cottage garden mingling, entangled,
often they self seed in truly strange and odd places.
Look inside the tubular flower for freckles and spots,
I admire them in any garden that I pass by;
and will pause to treasure their loveliness,
yes, it is true one must control their rambling way.
These dreamy gems grow tall and stunning,
oh, behold the grand walls of charming flowers;
every color imaginable available and I am fond of all,
it is awe-inspiring the beauty that nature gives us.
_____________________
March 24, 2020
Poetry/Verse/Foxglove
Copyright Protected, ID 20-1238-667-03
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France
Submitted into the Strand Choice P Contest
sponsor, Brian Strand
Third Place
You sound like a tiny person with short man syndrome
always talking out your azz is what you give them
Your poetry sucks like a hooker on the steets
never knowing when your going to be beat
Let me give you a penny for a thought
a free lesson so you can be taught
Put your words away before you get yourself killed
cause I kill it in skills
Dang the poetry that so uptight
letting loose isn't your type
Adrift in a foreign country, walking in canvas shoes,
I brushed the purple petals and felt
Chemicals invade through my fingertips;
Then kissed my fingers at the statue on the beach, tasted digitalis,
Marvelled at the stoic bronze skin
Pressed tight against bikini red,
As she moved into the sunset.
My heart slowed like a cable car, hanging in space,
And I watched her sweep so lithe and svelte,
Animated in blonde goddess frames;
How close it came to stopping, and for years after
I searched in vain through dreams and waking hours
For her defibrillating vision
To start me up again.
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.