Long Pixie Poems
Long Pixie Poems. Below are the most popular long Pixie by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pixie poems by poem length and keyword.
Featherlite merry's lifted by breeze, float up to a plumeberry sky
then gracefully sail over Melody Vale and land on the Cheerbloom in Nyye
Below near hedgerows belinda's grow wild, in colourful patches of glay
and tipsee toe teasils with funny green caps, whistle a tune on their way
The elfins are gathering bright willo blues, to braid through their silky fine hair
and winged caterinas in pink flowing skirts, hold hands as they dance on the mairr
Well hidden from view, this faeryland realm, is a place that is far far away
where fair pixie toodles and Ippsee quin's dwell and happiness reigns every day
As a child, I hated getting my hair cut.
Pixie-haired-me; never had a chance;
Mom would always insist and enforce,
the hair cut of doom.
I would sit in that awful chair;
itching, squirming, bawling me;
a prisoner of the scissor-beast.
When the ugly was complete;
how Mom would brag,
about the talent, of the scissor-beast.
Unfortunately, the kids in the neighborhood;
Never quite saw that talent
and until I was in the forth grade;
I was labeled, “boy”.
This, nickname, grossly lacked appeal.
Kids chided me about being a boy in a dress;
hammering out cruel insults and names.
One day, I said, “I don’t like pixies.”
This statement was followed,
by what elephant tears I could juice,
from my ducts for the next half hour.
Mom didn’t understand until I spilled
the pitcher of nicknames, which I daily endured.
Then she asked my preference…
“Mom, I want to just let it grow.”
She responded with,
“You’ll regret it; long hair is a tangled nightmare!”
My mom was the queen of child manipulation.
She failed to realize, that I was on to her schemes,
She gave her firm reply,
“Ok, but, the first tangle, that I see;
It’s all coming off!”
If a poet falls in love with you
you will live forever.
Atticus Finch - To kill a mockingbird.
In the midst of conundrums, of 'what ifs.'
I dislike the ocean,
its bitter saltiness, brings no joy.
Perched safely, upon the highest cliff,
watching waves surge upon the shore.
They are a constant reminder of
how you waved goodbye.
Each ripple carried you away - forever.
Lost in reflection,
sentimental memories remain eternal.
Recalling how the sun caressed your face,
mirroring your spirited smile -
like a lantern in my darkness.
Still unforgettable -
the joy in those soulful eyes -
each time you glanced at me.
Nonchalantly, I would follow you.
As we walked without a care -
you never seeming to tire.
In our youthful playground,
rusty see-saws and swings
still remember our laughter and tears -
that first sophomoric kiss
and I can still taste you.
When night would arrive,
there was no fear, hand in hand.
You were like a mystical pixie,
glowing in the enchantment of moonlight -
it would illuminate through your eyes.
We could have danced all night,
our souls ascending to the heavens.
But, I was afraid of new horizons,
because, I knew you would depart -
just like a shooting star.
Without thinking,
I broke your heart -
before you could heal mine.
I remain in the silence of 'what ifs.'
But, I smile, content -
knowing that once there was a time,
your heart and mine,
merged like day and night.
Simple Musing
4 July 2020
This is a fictional poem.
An example for the 'One who got away' contest.
She is a flesh devouring fairy who feasts on children
who dont' wash their hands and primp their toes
Darkly inclined she lives in the shadows, once bitten
you will turn as evil as her extra long snubby nose
Her name is Darkelina and she snickers to herself
she owns spidery fingers and her teeth are razor sharp
Sponge em' down, disinfect, scour them clean or else
she will cleave your little pinkie and stitch it to her harp
Darkelina Pixie-Meana thats what they call her Heh !
better wash it or hide it before she finds you child
Gloomy and morose with a dark disposition, its her way
better tuck them under the covers, for she is crazy wild
Beyond the twitch of night she can give you such a fright
shes got teeth with jagged edges, boy how she loves to bite !
The ooze ought to bestow fear on its forms.
The torrid heat of July gags your sacred calling.
It holds inside you, humbly inviting storms.
Singing in the gentle light of root caregiving.
Their activity heedfulness is vanishing.
Hanging pixie wings are sharp, yet blurring.
Daffodils, once joyful, are now luckless.
This late gap is bred by the deity endless.
Each one should heed this hidden tone of truth.
Earthly grief openly evokes settled insight.
Eschew sinking sand in blurring tracts, youth.
This area's lands grasp a waning and fading sight.
When we omit our inner tone, we get a breeze.
We've joined a so barren and chaotic apostasy.
Deep murk, sluggish heart, stifled worries ease.
A moving, rolling wind minds us on our life story.
Bear not the soul to untie ruin across each plain.
As the world deems you, you expect likely to rain.
The culminating bashes are quick and hastily thrown.
Each day gains betterment and outgrown.
Written: April 25, 2022
Seraphic phlox in a falling fluorescent flicker
pixie dust was cloaked in a raucous, auspicious.
A leaf of the halo tree, a gem of an airy slicker
My soul is coated with quiet-luring narcissus.
Pixie dust was cloaked in a raucous, auspicious.
flung over stale chatter set in iridescent gloom. .
My soul is coated with quiet-luring Narcissus,
cascading in a confluence of redolent doom.
Flung over stale chatter set in iridescent gloom,
a gamboling glance at the yore library's courtyard.
Cascading in a confluence of redolent doom,
The spirit had shaped the wailing moon in this regard.
A gamboling glance at the yore library's courtyard,
My sentience was unorthodox and yearned to grow.
The spirit had shaped the wailing moon in this regard.
The aurora borealis swelled my sprouting glow.
My sentience was unorthodox and yearned to grow,
a leaf of the halo tree, a gem of an airy slicker.
The aurora borealis swelled my sprouting glow,
Seraphic phlox in a falling fluorescent flicker.
Written: November 25, 2022
I wish I could watch Saturday morning cartoons in my pajamas.
Or be able to hold a teddy bear, when a storm frightens me.
I want to chew pink bubble gum, and blow bubbles as big as my head.
And, eat an entire bowl of ice cream without thinking about calories.
I just want to go roller-skating, or play hopscotch, or jump rope again.
How I long to go outside and build a snowman or a sandcastle.
I would love to sit on a swing, or a teeter-totter, and go down a slide.
Or to print my name with crayons and bring color to my world.
I want to believe in Santa Claus, again, or that reindeer can fly.
I'd love to put on a costume and go trick or treating on Halloween night.
I wish I could believe in magic and unicorns, leprechauns and mermaids.
Or believe that I can fly away to fairy tale lands with pixie dust.
I want to blow out the candles on my birthday cake,
knowing my wish will come true.
I want to think that the scariest thing in life is the monster under the bed.
And, the worst thing that can happen
is having to go back to school after summer vacation.
Who says I can't?
Spellbinding place where rainbow water flows
Frogspawn and tadpoles such enormous change
Arcadian forest where pixie dust blows
All creatures are welcome no one estranged.
Twilight is magical what will happen?
Atmosphere filled with dire baritone croak
Whispering rustle, low-lying bracken
Fae folk appear under red velvet cloak.
Fireflies lighting wonderful oasis
Elderly toad croaks musical score
Pompous owl tries to intimidate
Proud of position he is the law.
Beetles scurrying they are so anxious
Happy invitation it's party time
Cantankerous bees prickly as cactus
Covered in honey they buzz "all mine".
Terrapin plays music on his bassoon
Boisterous sound that creatures adore
Leprechaun baked magical mushroom
Mesmeric food eaten they all chant more!
Pixabay image by Sandra_Schoen
Evell’s pointed ears perked up. A faerie library! Where was it?
When does it open? Who can check out books? She was intrigued.
“Only true faeries can see it,” evil Morganna said, she was a chit.
Not being a pureblood, Evell wondered if she would get access.
“I know I will be invited,” Morganna told her. She was a snit.
Two weeks later Evell discovered a new road, and a tall stair.
She was let inside. Dwarfs, elves and dragons reading books.
“Isn’t this wonderful?” a pixie said, flinging pink dust in the air.
“Excuse me,” Evell said to the librarian. “Where are faerie books?”
“Everywhere,” the gargoyle said, extending his hands. “Every shelf.”
Fantastic Faerie Frolicks, Fairy Bible and Recipes for Fey Cooks.
Morganna never showed up. "She won’t," winked a knowing elf.
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PIXIE DUST