A patch of lichen I picked up
and then into my hand did cup.
The frills and shadows, in and out -
Finest fabric, without doubt.
Lacy lichen on my wrist -
Sweeter cuff does not exist.
The cool and smooth feel on my skin
I want to feel again, again.
If a bush sprite I could be
I think I would be more like me.
Winter Spice Cranberry Sprite
a winter holiday delight.
It comes in November when preparing Thanksgiving abounds
On the grocery soda shelf holiday Sprite is found
Really don't taste cranberries that spice flavor unique
But it has become one of my favorite holiday drinks
Smells like Christmas evening after all enjoy and done
Tip offed with a holiday Sprite and reflecting festive fun
Sometimes you don't want liquor nor drinks warm or hot
That's when holiday Sprite refreshing taste hits the spot
It's fun when the bubbles tickle your nose amused
It's sophisticated taste both kids and adults choose
So if holidays are hectic and feel a little overwhelming
Take a break with a holiday Sprite and revive that holiday feeling.
excited joyful sparkling sprite
danced her way into my sight
luna moth loveliness in her flight
lifting the fey in an effervescent light
He holds his dear being of love and light so close, so tight.
He holds up her beautiful spirit in the brightest light
Of her inner world shining, turning her into a lovely sprite.
I gaze out of my open window,
The cool night air, lifting my hair
I am watching the butterflies dancing in the moonlight, here, there,
And everywhere,
Settling now on the flowers and trees,
Which are sleeping quite still, even in the midnight breeze.
Serenity flows through my veins,
As I follow the dance of joy in nature’s fanes
And fairy flight fills my heart as they paint their silent and magical art.
A swirling mass of beauty and love,
Dipping down to the grass and up to the blossom filled boughs above.
I watch this wondrous sight
Whilst the moon glows with full and mysterious light
And I am immersed in this her song, of her love of the night
I fall as shadows steep, and very heavy
the outer world of waning stars do sparkle.
My lids grab hold of death though I am breathing.
The darkness still - my fullness faints, releases
a distant sprite - it holds me fast to bedding…
Fragile pine sapling
Green rising from brittle leaves
Pure fringed refreshment
The Sugar Sprite is not the one to blame
Although I was ashamed to call her name
I didn’t want to lose her
By the fact I might abuse her
But the calling was to choose her
Just the same
The Sugar Sprite is not so good for me
Although I like to keep her company
I call her in the morning
And she stays without a warning
With an attitude of scorning
Prophecy
The Sugar Sprite is still within my room
Her whisper is the reason for my gloom
I know she is my sorrow
For the sugar that I borrow
But my fate is still tomorrow
Or my doom.
violet-backed starlings
know how to
Shepherd
the
sheep clouds
with
their
sprite wings
somehow, somehow
to know thy name
written in these clouds
The Sprite
Sprite, Sprite sucking light
Siphoning thoughts and might
Who is watching
To determine your border?
What mind will expose you?
Who will betray me?
Where did you come from?
Is it original sin
Or someone closer?
Is their purpose in
Your gravity?
Who will lift her head and cease accusing?
From whence cometh my help?
Jehovah Rapha
I settle in your palm.
You are greater than the Sprite.
I rest in You
Every tree has its sprite,
a living deity ever vigilant of its needs.
Great Yggdrasil
ancient tree of life
holds her sprite within
her wending, winding arms;
a caress of gratitude
for its warrior guardian.
An ancient sentinel
guarding the wisdom
of Gaia’s mind,
needs a soldier;
this recruit, at the ready,
studies “The Art Of War”
with considerable vigilance.
No axe will ever release this tree
from Mother Gaia.
6-3-2021
ALL YOURS (JUN 4) Poetry Contest
Brian Strand
Within every tree lay a spirit,
the sprite that cares for it.
Feeding, watering, nurturing it,
as if it were its’ own offspring.
The hidden caretaker spirit
that endures within the wood
echoing a tree’s elation
at it’s own existence as it
revels in the gentle caress of Mother Earth.
4-17-2021
ALL YOURS (Apr 18) Poetry Contest
Brian Strand
Oak sprite man climbed up a piece of the bark
To get a little higher, to peer into the bowels of the forest.
They were coming; he could sense them
They had not been in this part of the forest for a long time
Spider’s webs as large as a bull’s back should have deterred them
But he knew they were determined
What is it? His wife asked.
Shh! He cautioned her. I think it is humans.
Not this far out, she assured him. They would not dare.
But they did
And they built a house there.
After bulldozing his favorite tree.
He never forgave them
Played tricks on them for years
Just to show he could.
There is a sprite that still lives
Deep in the bright blue water;
Reflection from the sky gives,
Surface beauty full quarter.
There is a sprite I do know,
Deep in the watery blue;
Lingers far, far down below,
Cool green grass and tree-top view.
Swimming with colourful fish,
Surrounded by natures’ sounds;
Mother, if I only had one wish,
I would dive down out of bounds.
To spend a day with friend sprite,
Laughing, playing, swimming whirls,
Home dry before the fall of night,
Hands full of freshwater pearls.
Mystery is a Shadow-Sprite.
She can be a tease, daring you to nail her,
in the light.
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