A hilltop, and blowy.
Not least this urge through!
To let go, whilst arm in arm
Feels them this free too.
Off world's all round constraints
Pulling, keeping down;
Whence of an ethereal blue
The sky; and their gown.
look child
neath moon's blessed face
garden sprites
Faeries and sprites flitting among the thistles and the daisies.
Sitting at the base of the violets, strumming easy listening guitars.
So, this is where the hippies go, observed a new arrival.
Understanding there are many levels of heaven.
And we gravitate to the one we relate to the hardest.
Yesterday, the Undines had a boring day;
their last, they insist.
The things happening to the world,
are terrifying, to say the least;
when water sprites
become bored
with their aquatic home.
It seems their present preference,
is all too different,
they’d rather fly than float.
Titania, queen of the water faeries,
was most despondent when their revelation,
descended upon her elemental ears.
“Such madness,” cried she,
“It’s the last straw when the Undines are,
too eager, to ride fireflies!”
Gamma wave form ethereals
Deep slow motion ephemerals
Green tea sunsets siren the 7 Seas.
My Heart Sighs for You
One glorious day you drifted this way
and life was ne'er going to be the same
It was early spring, hearing bluebirds sing
in fervent sun rays that’d burnished for days.
We walked along an enchanted pathway
where wild flowers grew in flamboyant hue
Creatures in their prime having an ace time
in gleeful display as we passed their way.
It became clear we'd become near and dear
our destiny, not a momentary
We sang filled with joy no one could destroy
dancing among sprites till the orb of night.
We sighed when stood on a bridge o'er a brook
reflections entranced as lustrous stars pranced
Phantoms of the night ascended in flight
they'd been awed as we become enamoured.
The magical scenes drifted off downstream
I woke feeling blue, you'd faded from view
Never never land’s where we fly off to
in sweet dreams I constantly dream of you.
It brings on a sigh and still makes me cry
when I memorise our last sad goodbye.
11th July 2021
What Makes You Sigh… Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Chantelle Anne Cooke
* * * * *
(((Fictional)))
Upon a wood-walk, evening
I saw the tree sprites dancing.
Lovely sprites, in fall dress;
whirling, twirling to the tune of the autumn winds
and I couldn’t resist, I just had to dance with them.
Perhaps the others walking with me, didn’t notice
or maybe they thought I’d lost my mind...they just laughed as I spun; arms reaching out in elation.
We danced together; an explosion of colors;
composition of bold-neon souls,
reeling upon Earth's canvas.
Tree sprites, the folk-of-the-wood are the,
magical, mystical spirits of the trees;
I am elated that they allowed me to participate.
Swarm robots sing your dreams of snow angels.
They flutter in formation, flinging up flakes.
Engineered wings whispered together:
"Rise from the pack ice, wait for my kisses
of polymers and airfoils and programs - I'm pining to play with
persistence of vision and time...in time.
Watch what I've wished for rise from the powder in time...
Be mine... in time..."
'Neath the Willows, now cloaked in brume,
as streams the night time deepening.
Enshrouding all in shadows womb,
I espy true loves awakening.
Evetide slumber did find a youth,
within the mead, where I do dwell.
Wont was I, to bespell, forsooth,
tis truly, one thing I do well.
Mazed, stands young swain, aside his bay,
embracing nymph, of flaxen hair.
Bedewed, were eyes, by impish fay,
for it be a swine, he holds there.
Of deep laughter, I do partake.
As disenthralled, young swain awakes.
For: Shakespearian or English Sonnet contest
Host: John Freeman
Placement: 7th
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