Long Fey Poems
Long Fey Poems. Below are the most popular long Fey by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fey poems by poem length and keyword.
She’s lived there for years, he whispered as I pointed out her silhouette.
Why whisper I thought. There is no way she can hear us; she is inside.
She’s fey, he told me. Kind of touched, believe in faeries and stuff.
This did not discourage me. I had seen her pretty black hair and slim figure.
Clouds hung like heavy sleeves tonight; it was not a great day for a barbeque.
Did you invite her? I asked him. He had promised that he would invite others.
I was irritated now. We had a deal; he was supposed to invite her.
She’s just weird, he said. I never talk to her or anything.
Silhouettes of a harsh life point to his meanness in not inviting her.
You invited all of the neighbors except her? He stared at his boot.
The rudeness of this hit me wrong in so many ways.
Well, she’s different, he hemmed. Yes, she was. I could see that.
Floating daydreams crumble into night dreams as I stared into the fire.
I am going over there, I said. To invite her to come have a hamburger.
My friend did not stop me. She was lovely, but made an excuse.
I wanted to ring my friend’s neck, for his blatant prejudice.
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.
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
the elf boy came out of the meadow annoyed with the fey
They had not been especially kind to him on this July day
Some had jeered and made fun of his overlarge ears
His feelings were hurt by these mean sounding jeers
the elf boy’s mama could tell by his face
That he had not been treated respectfully or with grace
This is so sad, she said, it should not have happened for sure
Her elf boy stayed away from the meadow which was not pure
The fey are usually wonderful, his mama said, and she was right
But an evil gargoyle had taken over the meadow and dimmed its light
Until the other fey chased him off, the elf boy stayed far away.
He did not need bullies to steal his joyfulness, the right of the fey.
Once as outlook seemed demeaning
I pondered life’s varied meaning
Only one thing I wished to be gleaning
The simple answer of why
I was near full to bursting a seam
Then as if by heavenly beam
The answer was great to a dream
One that made me feel as if to fly
See, as I wandered the day
There on the road lay
Some sort of fey
Whose life came to a stop
My mind seemed to tarry
And though understanding may vary
I think it’s kinda scary
That even a fey can flop
This answer a divine source must have sent
That from above must have lent
A sight of a precious life callously rent
An oh so powerful truth
Now some might consider this a creation of the mind
For me this is how I the excellent answer find
In truth the answer isn’t always oddly signed
The truth is actually oh so common
The fact is that great and small
The most precious is lost to the call
None are immune from passing that wall
Why worry about death even when life is freshest?
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
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.