Long Thistledown Poems
Long Thistledown Poems. Below are the most popular long Thistledown by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Thistledown poems by poem length and keyword.
Thistledown wus his name and sometimes he stung, well actually his stem stung. The stinkers gave him a bad name, they did! Handsome wus he. Aye, the ladies loved him. Coming near to his full bushy head of royal purple pomp, thought he smelled good too, they did, bees to his honey.
Summer time was his time, the time to bloom. His thorns served as fairy swords. An', on mass, he an' his guarded the fey's mound. Thistledown kept the cows from trampin' the wee ones. An' the cow plops from offendin' the Royal's wee noses. No hoof falls made treacherous the field's lay.
Suren, he wus sharp this fine boyo. He did 'ave a soft side, a sure sweetness. When fall's goddess Mordron* brought the chill down, he softened. Queen Mab* sent fey to catch his whitened crownin' glory, as each strand, a silken treasure, soft fell and so, Ole Thistle lost his head, for from his crown, and its down, wur made sheets of silken softness for the Tuatha De Danaan's* beds.
*Goddess Mordron/Welsh mythology, Modron ("divine mother")
* Queen Mab of the Fairy
* Tuatha De Danaan pre-Christian gods represented as heroes or fairies.
[Tribes of the goddess Dana]
The balmy breeze wafted over the prairie,
Where yellow cowslips huddled in patches.
And here and there I heard a whisper echoing:
Love her, love her, love her.
But she seemed deaf and preferred the wounded wind.
How easy it was to forget and never recapture
All my wistful whisper, I would always love you.
Those sweet nothings of past affections.
We no longer trudged the path made up for two.
Forgotten were those bygone days
When we believed that thistledown tufts
Were really friendly fairies in disguise.
Thus she escaped my clutches
And like a unicorn disappearing in an eclipse,
I headed for a dull and empty living
Blaming her uselessly for I still loved her.
Weren't we the product of our time?
We slammed the doors of love in our own faces,
Building woeful walls around us
Painting it with a tinge of misunderstanding,
When we could lead such a colorful life,
Giving our hearts a chance,
Laughing at ourselves.....
And sending a whisper,
a woeful whisper to the moon above.
Placed First
pouring rooibos tea for no one
but me.
the high whistle would not
be a sound
if it was all alone.
still, i set out three florid cups —
to gratify Lily-Bell and Thistledown.*
the fairies love the blue rose
and butterfly inside
my fine porcelain.
later, I shall set aside
the Flower Fables*
and long stem conversation.
i shake out the welcome mat
with all its earthly problems
and exact a calligraphic invitation.
i lay down the sublime —
it waits for your shoes
teeny or otherwise
and silver wings
golden halo
fairy dust.
that’s you because i say so
it’s been too long —
even a day, without you!
3/16/2020
*Flower Fables by Louisa May Alcott
You built your house upon the mist,
The sea-sigh cradled every beam,
And winds like lost and wistful souls
Would lean against your fevered dream.
You wore the sky against your hair,
The stubborn stars beneath your feet,
Your laughter was a thistledown —
Too wild, too swift, too fleet.
In Adam’s Rib, you wove your song,
A silver thread through jest and war,
Bright was your spirit, fierce and long,
A river breaking on the shore.
But storms came calling at your door,
And none could hold them back or plead;
The walls were torn, the hearth was drowned,
The sea had learned your creed.
Yet still you rise — a ghost, a flame,
A prayer stitched into rain —
The salt remembers your brave name,
And we remember all your pain.
With fanciful thoughts swarming like locusts,
When my mind runs bizarre, I look for a quiet spot
To sit and jot them down, not bothering if they ring or rhyme
At times, like gurgling streams, so noisy, they flow.
Or like dew drops, gently moistening the grass,
They come and quietly settle, on the white surface.
Unable to be imprisoned within
The structured frame of a song,
My thoughts, at times, take wings and fly,
Like Aladdin’s magic carpet.
They carry me along to lands unknown
And regions never travelled!
As we fly, we watch from above the magic tapestry
Of sculptured rocks, green arcades and silvery streams
And lose in the beauty of this spinning globe,
So amazing to view
The ride being so pleasant, soon the elements dissolve
And time runs out.
I even forget, I do exist
Ascending higher and higher, with a rare lightness of being,
On wings so weightless, the world of truth fades completely out,
Until like a thistledown so weightless I float along with clouds,
Propelled by the buoyancy of the air.
Looking from those alien shores,
At times I catch a glimpse of Heaven,
Beyond the far rims of the horizon.
Then my soul leaps in such exquisite rapture
And my unuttered thoughts burst into a song!
Nov. 29.2022
2022 . Marathon Mile.26. Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Mark Toney
The Queen of fairies fell asleep
upon a bed of thistledown.
And didn't notice the hours creep
as she dreamt of a golden gown.
She was to meet the setting sun,
so she waited with bated breath.
For at dusk, they will merge as one
and together conquer death.
Darkness shrouds the sun as it dies,
draping the night in ebony.
But, she was too sleepy to rise,
and missed her date with destiny.
She woke to find there was no sun,
its light would never shine again.
And such things couldn't be undone,
despite her overwhelming pain.
She sent her magic to the sky,
but all the stars silently fell.
And alone, she began to cry,
like she'd opened the gates of Hell.
(Quatrain)
6/19/2015