Fairy poems

Fairy

Though I detect that she is near,
I see not yet her fluttering heart
between each drooping willow tear,
though I detect that she is near.
I’ll keep on searching without fear
until I find some little part.
Though I detect that she is near,
I see not yet her fluttering heart.

Though, it’s said they don’t exist,
And maybe that is so,
I know that one day… I was kissed
though, it’s said they don’t exist.
And yet I saw her, through the mist,
fly up and wink and go.
Though, it’s said they don’t exist
and maybe that is so

On days I go down to that stream
to where the fairy came,
I lay down there, perchance to dream,
on days I go down to that stream.
And while I know, it seems extreme,
I’ll keep on looking without shame,
on days I go down to that stream
to where the fairy came.

Fairy Jolie

Sitting on a root ‘neath a large Oak tree
down along the stream, at the bottom of the hill,
she sat all alone, sobbing, drinking grass tea
sitting on a root ‘neath a large Oak tree.
I hid in the grass as she tangled with a bee
who quickly left,  leaving her still
sitting on a root ‘neath  a large Oak tree
down along the stream,  at the bottom of the hill.

Standing up now and looking around
her eyes gazing straight across the stream.
She’s a wisp in the wind, nary a pound
standing up now and looking around.
What should I do in this moment, profound;
I don’t want to scare away this dream
standing up now and looking around
her eyes gazing straight across the stream.

Dancing o’er the reflection, down in the stream
splashing the water with her feet,
her pointed ears turn to the flash of a beam
dancing o’er the reflection, down in the stream.
Cautiously panning, each move is a scheme
still daintily fluttering to a dragonfly’s beat
Dancing o’er the reflection, down in the stream
splashing the water with her feet.

Waving at the dragonfly then flying towards the sun
where I watched her ‘til my eyes 
couldn’t see
I ran down to the water where I saw her having fun
waving at the dragonfly then flying towards the sun.
The dragonfly, still ‘dancing’ there, I swear, said she would come
to dance -just whisper her name, though, nevermore have I seen that , Jolie,
waving at the dragonfly then flying towards the sun
where I watched her ‘til my eyes couldn’t see

“Fairy Hill”

Foggy mornings, they’ll sometimes show
and if you look real hard, you will see the glow
through the inner logs at the base of the hill,
and don’t be surprised if one flies around
and checks the perimeter from the top on down.

One morning I saw her, on the ground, near the road
singing and dancing in a puddle, for a toad,
who didn’t seem that interested; more bothered, I’d say
‘cause he wanted a drink and she wanted to dance
and wanted him to watch her, though it was taking a chance.

But the next thing I saw was her backing up slow
and pointing her finger at the toad, to go
and get a drink and then get out
‘cause she wanted to get back in and finish her song
which she did, and she waved, as the toad got along.

Then I saw what was fire, at the base of the hill,
and out came a fairy in a bright colored twill
outfit, that glistened and shined so brightly, it blinded
me and when I could see again , there must have been ten
fairies dancing and playing ‘round the puddle, by then.

And, as usual, my camera was too far away
and I thought I saw, Jolie, who I saw that day
when she danced and frolicked to the dragonfly’s beat,
then flew towards the sun when I ran to the stream
perchance to get closer to this recurring dream.

The screech sound was eerie from the hawk up high
who angled down sharply, down from the sky,
toward the puddle, by the road, where the fairies all danced,
now scurrying around quickly to dress and to dry
for their wings that, if wet, won’t allow them to fly.

But then what I saw, I didn’t see any more
for the fog now had thickened right down to the floor
of grass that surrounded the logs on the pile.
And even the puddle, full of life, now was still
and everyone was safe again…. out on Fairy Hill.

Fairy Fall

She stood behind the leaf on the branch above the knot
on the tree trunk near the river where he fished and where he got
bitten by the dog that had come from down the road
from the farm that raised the chickens he had learned of when it snowed
last winter….a month before the thaw.

She watched him as he cleaned his hand and bandaged it up tight
in shadows through the morning mist in the coolness of the light.
that slithered down between the trees and fell upon the ground
and splashed along the water’s edge, hitting all it found
as she watched him pause at what he saw.

She was sure he didn’t see her but his gaze was firm that way
and she peeked beneath the moistened leaf and gasped at the spray
that drenched her hair down to her toes and made her wings to stick
and she lost her balance and hit the ground…. with a spark and light and click
so loud that she was sure….that he knew.

She moved with caution ‘round the tree as he started to walk her way
and the birds all started whistling loud and the fish began to play
and caught his attention and he froze in time, then turned and went on back
and got his pole that was lying there…. against the sleeping bag and black
dog that now seemed harmlessly…..’blue.’

A fairy has to watch her ways, yet learn of all she can
but safety is the fairy thing; that is the fairy plan.
And knowing she was lucky; she watches from afar
as he pats the dog with his bandaged hand and chews on his cigar
and casts his pole across the blaze of morn’.

 

Fairy Rescue

I saw her lying by the road
all ‘puddled’  by the rain
and standing by her was a toad
up leaning on a cane
cautiously looking all around
to see just who would come
saying something I could not hear
o’er the beating drum
that now had just begun to beat
in tones I barely heard
as noisy leaves fell on my feet
as squeals came from a bird
swooping down now where she lays
close to the thrusting cane
the toad is waving aimlessly
scowling with disdain.

The darkness of the misty morn’
can’t hide the loudening drum
as fairies come from the field of corn;
the drum beat now a humm.
They wave away her guardian knight
and lift her on a leaf
and away they fly in the misty dawn
taking my belief.
There’s always someone standing by
to tell you, you’re not right
when using words that seem to lie
making others feel uptight.
It’s not that you are being bad
but it’s scary ‘cause you’re bold
after all, there might be an ounce of truth
in the story you just told.

© copyright 2013  t. j. gargano

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