Long Faeries Poems
Long Faeries Poems. Below are the most popular long Faeries by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Faeries poems by poem length and keyword.
sun-burst yellows, overtake the yard.
dancing amid the clover and the grasses.
sharing their joy with surround green.
delighted children pluck them too close.
checking them under their chins.
older ones carefully secure their stems too,
wisely weaving them into headbands, earrings,
bracelets, and other beautiful decorative items.
these yellow heads prance happily as new-formed jewelry.
after they are discarded,
scents of fluff floating onto zephyrs
in a variety of meadows and prairies
delighting in their free selves
gently alighting on petals and buds
gleaming with sparkle known only to faeries
and possibly the purest of heartfelt elves
dandelion magic, gone right.
Written 4-2-2019
Contest: Dandelions
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
She was a rainbow faerie
in a butterfly world.
Where faeries were shunned
Considered gossips, thieves,
Ignored, pulled down,
jeered at
due to the butterflies’ preconceived notions
and belief in antiquated myths
They had grown up thinking their rights
were the only ones that mattered.
They had been taught at mama’s knees
that rainbow faeries were pussies,
who despised butterflies, moths, and damselflies.
They had been taught to hate rainbow faeries
with a passion that can only be taught by butterflies.
Some thought that rainbow faerie was a throw
back from the times when rainbow faeries crossed
the picket lines and pulled off butterfly wings,
crumbling them into a delicacy
which they ate on oatmeal pies
and hot fudge sundaes.
Others had no clear stories
at all, just knew to loathe her kind.
Rainbow faerie tried in vain to find
at least one butterfly who would believe in rainbow faerie goodness.
Who would give her a chance to show her kindness and empathy.
She made it her mission to find one
butterfly who would listen, and she found Bulba, a newborn
Who she educated secretly to see her soul-self,
who was going to give rainbow faeries a chance.
Bulba loved her, and adored her, and was the
only butterfly who could see Rainbow Faerie.
They were happy together for five years.
Then Bulba went to school.
Due to the pressure from her
peers, Bulba had to let go of her knowledge
of Rainbow Faerie. She was tromped on and spit on.
Her classmates rebuked her, and jeered at her.
She was an outcast until she came around to their
way of thinking. She became a fierce loather of
Rainbow fairies, so she could fit in.
She soon was telling them fantastic stories
of what she had done to rainbow faeries.
Her brain turned.
One night after school,
to prove her worth, she took an assault
rifle and killed Rainbow Faerie in front
of the school, showing her deep respect
for their preconceived notions and fear of
rainbow faeries. She felt sad for a few
seconds, but then she went back inside to
shape her playdough into a beautiful sign
for an NRA rally, and she was a hero, and all was well.
furiously frolicking fey do not visit everyone
some empaths hear their giggles
others sense their lively antics
few humans see them
the ones I know bring a fragrance with them
I am clairsentient
aware more than others
clairaudient too; I hear their giggles
I cannot fathom life without them
some of the nonbelievers would not believe me
but they are here, in the forms of elves, faeries, and brownies
gnomes, dragonflies and damselflies are their distant cousins
sometimes they surround me
landing on my shoulder
showing themselves also in golden orbs
I am blessed, but keep it to myself
being a clairvoyant is not for everyone
maybe it does not run in some families
but it runs in mine, and I smile at the fey
as they hide themselves from the nonbelievers
Azure forest felt the arrival of the fey immediately
The scouts arrived in the form of pink doves with faerie wings
Not a gargoyle or an elf, the oaks communed to each other
Something more exotic, mystically unparalleled.
Perhaps a twilight faerie? They are quite rare.
The elms heard, and tittered, shaking their leaves slightly.
Stars arrived as usual, but no hint of the ethereal creature yet.
Bull frogs croaked in earnest; lighting bugs blinked and flitted
Any word? A willow whispered to her purple violet guards.
Nothing yet, the violets replied, but it is something marvelous.
We have not had this feeling for at least a quarter of a century.
That was a princess of faeries, right?
There was a snap in the forest. The trees held their breath.
A gorgeous dainty spotted fawn walked into the clearing.
Do you think she is the one? The violets asked the mushrooms.
The mushrooms stared for a bit. “It does not feel like it.”
The night was full of anticipation and hope.
The iris opened back up, to await whoever was coming.
Fawn left, and a streak of rainbow white paraded into the clearing.
The trees held their breath. Could it be…..?
It was. The quintessential fey creature. A unicorn!
They are so rare, none had seen one before.
Hope, joy and enthusiasm paraded throughout the forest.
No wonder the scouts were pink doves with faerie wings!
I watch and wait
Sitting on the bank
Of the deep green pond
Humming a soft song
The pearls in my body
Begin to set
Now I know
There’s nothing to fret
My mind was a bedlam
My heart askew
Now all is silent
Now I shan’t move
I trail my hands
Along your face
The silhouette of my love
Taking me to that place
You were lost
But now are found
And now my mind
Is safe and sound
The fairies laugh
The lambs doth cry
Because I’ve come
To weep a goodbye
But thou shalt not weep
Not over me
For I am not lost
On the deep dark sea
Not on earth
Not in heaven
But somewhere out there
Where I can hold him again
A gargoyle with an injured paw
Tried to dance at Ma’s corn pone heehaw.
Unfortunately he hurt his jaw.
Loud crow came by, hit him with his caw.
The hoedown was pretty much in full swing.
When ghosts crashed it with a ting-a-ling.
The gargoyle got mad. His fight he did bring.
They all ended up in the pokey. One in a sling.
Creepy vampires got into the entity fray.
They jumped into the jail cells in middle of day.
A rumble started. I had to look away.
At the end of the vampires were victors with a bray.
The faeries heard and brought in October’s moon.
She flashed them soundly and made them swoon.
She brought in black cats who spit and hissed.
The rumor is that the gargoyle was soundly kissed.
Even though he had an injured paw, and lost a fight.
All in all, he had a pretty good Halloween night.
He and the crow ended up friends all right.
The entire scene was a miraculous sight.
Trixie Light Wing, the lovely, lithe,16-year-old light-worker faerie,
was the first one awake in the prairie on this fine Spring morn.
She effortlessly dusted the grasses, the dandelions, the daffodils,
and the pink hydrangeas with pixie dust called Big Pix.
She had come by the Pixie Dust legitimately, because it had
been presented to her as a gift, for being a sixteenth-born.
Named Trixie Light Wing by the Pixies, the light-worker faerie,
lived up to her name, because she was an expert of tricks.
The dragons were still asleep in their cave when she liberally
dusted their front knocker with the Big Pix.
She knew it would be easier to do it now and ask for forgiveness,
than ask permission and be told “no”.
The dragons were known for their inability to see
another side of the story or even flex their own a bit.
Trixie felt jubilant that she had gotten past their door
without waking even the sweet and cute
2-seasons-old baby dragon, Little Joe.
The Flitzwillies were the first magical creatures
to wake up as were the rest of the Light-Workers, Tee and Bee.
Tee was an avid admirer of Trixie; she wanted to be like Trixie,
she wanted to act like Trixie, Big Bad Tee.
Bee was not so much an admirer, a light-worker with
a lone wolf type attitude, one in this prairie we rarely see.
Bee would have liked to stay in the dark cave and play
Video games all day long, rather than be friends to the Mee.
The Mee is what we call our cooperative made up of faeries,
dragons, and flitzwillies. I am one of them too.
My name is Khan, pronounced CAN, and I can do a lot of things
other mythical creatures are not allowed to do.
Probably because I am the princess, and my Mommy,
the queen, helps to make all the rules for the Mee.
Daddy doesn’t dare cross her, or she will add another
rule for him, and he already has thirty-three.
I decided to pull out all the stops today,
and play a trick on Trixie before she
Could play a trick on me.
Disguised as a little baby unicorn, I watched her
feed me an apple, and began to
Talk about how pretty I would be.
When I shape shifted back to myself, we laughed and
Laughed at my trick at her expense.
Then she pointed out that we could ride on
A Tilt-a-Whirl for only a sixpence.
And so we did.
My conscience flickers within my brain
My eyes meet the floor in constant shame
In a dark room I sit and wait
Until I go into my own world with less hate
My eyes get tired and begin to close
The thumping of my blood developing flows
Mind twists into a sleepy mode
Of all the different roads I rode
I’ve finally made it to my sweet refugee
A world I created for just me
I land on my feet in the middle of the wood
With all the colors of the rainbow and the air smelling so good
My best faerie-friend lands in the palm of my hand
She tells me what the goblins did to the land
And how them and the giants destroyed it with fights
How the sun stopped shining it’s precious lights
I needed to be there for it had been too long
So I whistled my genuine elf-song
The dragons, gnomes, faeries, and friends
All came out as the white-tigers emerged from their dens
They circled around me with tears in their eyes
Told me how the giants and goblins took our most precious prize
They tried to destroy the world I made
Tried to wipe out all the life and the world began to fade
They were so glad I was home again
We will create an army and now we’d win...
If I could control my muse, things would be delightful
I could pretend that I care about the possibility of normality.
Trixie is a wild woman, a pirate queen, a gypsy soul.
She dances around the campfire of my soul in her birthday suit.
She laughs at my alarm when she throws crazy ideas onto a page.
But wait, is she not a part of myself?
I ask my witches, faeries, and dragons.
They nod, accepting me as I am, encouraging me to retain my power.
But if I control her, can she be as clever? As outrageous? As cute?
Ouch! She is batting me about my head and face with her little feathered Pen. Bright blue ink is flipping little dots onto my cheeks and nose.
Amusing me greatly, and not making me want to control her at all.
She is my imagination, my wit, my vigor, and my energy.
I dare not insult her, I must revere, respect, and love her.
I avidly search for her good, and point it out, nourishing her ego.
Loving her, adoring her, taking bits of my power back little by little.
Never had my own child name; I was a pair. An identical, three pounds each.
Deemed cute, and we knew it. Dancing and prancing; dressing alike. Yuk!
Sundays were spent at church and grandmas. I was outside. My twin was in.
My husband found me at six. Claimed he would marry me. I hated him.
Teachers despised me. I despised them too, no secret. Strong feelings.
School, a prison where I cartooned and daydreamed, hating it.
Married young, best time of my life. Three babies. Better times.
Unforeseen artist, poet, word player, came into my own in my fifties.
Now live my created reality in the country among faeries, butterflies and flowers.
Cartooning, daydreaming and still at school. Saving haters one at a time.
Written 9-28-2019
Contest: Story of my Life in 10 lines
Sponsor: Silent One