strange cast of characters
cross grainy starry night sky
creep in to my sleep
.
haiku
Category Archives: Fairytales
he’s
from a totally
different fairytale than ours
charmingly creepy
.
haiku
his-tory?
who needs handsome prince?
real woman’s worth’s embedded :
unique to her-story
.
haiku
play,mate
i’ll be your anchor
and your waves and your perfect
storm your crime your home
.
haiku
i wasn’t
once upon a time
i was
a little girl
who had a little curl
………
haiku
.
n.b
i wasn’t
& never will be
horrid !
airy airy
what if the faeries
controlled everything ghost bells rose
smells midsummer’s dreams
.
haiku
i wished, i did, i do
i smashed that promise
; chewed on the glass bits left — shoe~
less ever after
.
haiku
lady of Avalon
.
i dream i’m drowning
it’s an old one
but it no longer owns me
now i’ve come home to avalon
.
thoughts of rain awake me
the lady comes again for me
from across the levels blurred in
a banging of silver bangles
a breathing womb of grass and apples
a trembling of limbs still stuck in the suck
of muck-moist land that’s been drained for ages
until it rains; and it rains
.
she is ages older than me, yet young
she speaks an older tongue, voice
fizzy with dialects of scrumpy cider and musky crusts of ancient cheddar
echoes dance from dank chalk caves
wassail wassail wassail
and so it was
and so it is
.
i dream her lovely face
etched upon a sorrow of cloud
heavy as half a pound of moonlight
light as a fragrance of lemoncakes
i dream her silken garments
and steely armaments
reflected in the ancient lakes of this summer land
do you see me, she rasps
swirling me in underwater loves
she drags me to her breast where i rest
kisses the stone of my bones
unheeding of the summons of Merlin
defiantly ungifting trinkets to the kings
the legend of the lady
awaits a feminist twist
shhhh, she whispers, coming
and i dream myself asleep
.
not a haiku
.
ps
I moved the the isle of ancient avalon last year. Do you know where that is? Quite simply, Somerset in the West Country of the UK, near Glastonbury. I felt a pull to come here and so here am i. Still dreaming…
NaPoWriMo day 25
prompt is based on the aisling, a poetic form that developed in Ireland. An aisling recounts a dream or vision featuring a woman who represents the land or country on/in which the poet lives, and who speaks to the poet about it. Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that recounts a dream or vision, and in which a woman appears who represents or reflects the area in which you live. Perhaps she will be the Madonna of the Traffic Lights, or the Mysterious Spirit of Bus Stops. Or maybe you will be addressed by the Lost Lady of the Stony Coves. Whatever form your dream-visitor takes, happy writing!
fall for me, sweetness
Give me —
five fists full of summer grass
without uprooting anything at all
Offer me —
six swift licks of your herby skies
including denuded scented rainflies
Pick the —
arch of your mouth out of the earth
pulling up a brace of this yellow birds —
you know are my favourite treats
give them a sprinkle of rose water and thyme twists to enliven them
Release breezes —
of them to me, sweetness
Christen my skin
with unbearable brightness
i can bear
and i shall
climb the concrete of your seven towers
my limbs shedding strips of your shaggy shapes
that coat you like smoke
as i go
to kiss the gossamer of your scars
as i bestow
upon you the broths of my belly
cover you in my darkest berries
catch you falling in
the parachute of my hair
.
not a haiku
.
NaPoWriMo prompt April 19:-
write a poem that starts with a command. It could be as uncomplicated as “Look,” as plaintive as “Come back,” or as silly as “Don’t you even think about putting that hot sauce in your hair.” Whatever command you choose, I hope you have fun ordering your readers around.
pan out
picture this
bottom of a kitchen garden
unruly patch, a willow hatch
yellowberries, cherries, teasels, thistles
radishes and chive flowers lined up messily
close up in the lush long grass
intro music
a fresh-freckled nose pressed close to the damp dust and rooted shoots
pan out
a little girl in a short summer’s dress
flat out on her tummy, legs lolling, humming softly
.
she’s busily tucking happy daisies, pansies and violet bells
in and around the loot, snagging pebbles and twigs in the mix
betwixt secret vibrating riggings, a spiralled ring begins to zing
.
scene blurs a bit
you may have to squint
to see it
a glint of wing
that spins and turns
into a tiny faerie thing
that lands on the girls’ thumb
spritely music begins
our little girl grins
.
pan out
another child strides out from a distant house
dumps a school bag as she crosses the lawn, frowns
as she reaches our peace-filled scene, she willfully
stamps
on the circle and thunder’s felt
she shouts out
‘ as your sister, i know better
i shan’t let you get caught up in this nonsense, ever after
FAERIES DON’T EXIST, you twit !’
she shouts it thrice
something melts
perhaps it’s wonderment
.
spell is broke, peace was there but
magic ceases in that spoken moment
faerie-play snaps out of woken memory
faerie-blinks out like dew-dropped reverie
focus in
the creased face of the older sister
and the small girl’s curled in a ball in the iris of her pupil
tight in a ball of older-sister certainty she-who’s
violently opposed to such wicked-wildness
her magic already bound and tamed
in a flash
she forgets
she forgets
god exits
fade to blacks
pan out
pan out
.
not a haiku
.
.
NaPoWriMo prompt, day 14
: write a poem that takes the form of the opening scene of the movie of your life.
barbaraturneywielandpoetess 