A poetic journey through my mind

Posts tagged “fairy tale

Mirrorrim

 

Mirror mirror on the wall, hanging there so silently, can you see me here at all, or do you stand in awe of me?

See my skin as white as snow, see my smile as sharp as thorn, behind my lips so rosy red, a beauty grown, but never born.

My people love me, as they might, they laud my beauty and my grace, adore my hair as black as night, and see in me my mother’s face.

Mothers ash is buried deep, beneath the sacred Rowan tree, but should I cry beneath its shade, I hear her voice still speak to me.

Blood red tears soak through the ground, nourishing the thirsty earth, and whispering the leaves take voice, echoes of her cruel mirth.

Stepmother, fear me as you should, for though you may have fathers ring, tis I who owns his beating heart…in me, the conscience of the king.

Huntsman with your sharpened knife, you track me for the queen so good, a single kiss and you are mine, amazed amidst the darkened wood.

The beating heart, unlike my own, ensconced within a box of gold, and carried to stepmother dear, a tragic tale will soon be told.

By animals in forest deep, my body torn too much to save, the heart the only evidence, to lay beside my mother’s grave.

From kitchen knave to scullery maid, soon all in mourning deep will be, whilst I move through them whisper soft, feeding on the tragedy.

And then, replete, I’ll slip away, down to the caverns dark and deep, far from the biting of the sun, where spirits howl and duergar creep.

There among the little men, I’ll sleep until I thirst again, then waken, smiling in my bliss, to share again my blood red kiss.


Reply

Little sister, small and fair,
why ask for knowledge you will rue?
But, for the Oaths that we did swear,
three times three I’ll answer you.

One for Crow boys, tall and dear,
perched atop a garden wall,
I heard them laughing and crept near,
I heard his lies…I heard it all.

Little sister, small and fair,
why ask for knowledge you will rue?
But, for the Oaths that we did swear,
three times three I’ll answer you.

Second for the power that glows
within a tattered crow-black skin,
the skin our faithless crow boy chose
to keep his crow-shape safe within.

Little sister, small and fair,
why ask for knowledge you will rue?
But, for the Oaths that we did swear,
three times three I’ll answer you.

I’ve clipped his wings, no more he’ll fly,
the power mine now, strong and new,
and from my hand he will not die…
but only for our Oaths so true.

Little sister, small and fair,
why ask for knowledge you will rue?
But, for the Oaths that we did swear,
three times three I’ll answer you.


B&B

the maze amazing blocks my sight,
with bright lit halls and rooms of night,
my heart beats fast and hard with fright,
I stumble, and my head feels light.

the path winds forward, north, then east,
with frozen fear I hear the beast,
he shambles, slow, like one deceased,
but still he comes, to make his feast.

I looked into his private wing,
not knowing what my choice would bring,
its beauty made my heart fair sing,
just like a castle for a king.

he sat, his back toward the door,
admiring the fires bright roar,
and spoke, as if his throat were sore…
“I’m certain that I locked that door.”

he turned around, I thought I’d scream,
so much the monster did he seem,
his eyes with yellow light did gleam,
I pinched myself, in case of dream.

I saw a passageway, and ran,
without a thought, without a plan,
away from beast that thought as man,
as fast as any rabbit can!

and now I’m lost, in caverns deep,
for days I’ve had no food or sleep,
while after me the beast does creep,
so on and on, my pace I keep.

still I wonder if I dream,
if things are not the way they seem,
I swallow scream on breathless scream,
and watch behind for the eyes that gleam.


Why?

Why are roses symbolic of blood, the bitter red drops on the snow,
a girls red cloak, evil red shoes, an apples rosy glow?

Why red?

Is it a symbol of innocence lost, of the pain that comes only with growth?
Of red stains adrift on a white sea of linen, the sight that sealed many a troth?

Why red?

Is it a sign of sacrifice given, red on the spotless white bib of a crane
that speaks with a silence more telling than words of a glory that transcends mere pain?

Why red?

Is it a sign of death and destruction, fire and doom and despair?
The sign that means Stop and Danger and Warning, the color of Watch,
and Beware!

Why red?
Why red?
Why red?

Red is the color of love and devotion, of Valentine roses and hearts,
of poppy fields bright in the sunshine, of cherries and bright berry tarts,
The flash of a fire against sooty red brick, warm coals glowing deep in a stove,
a ladybugs luck, a cardinals red flash, a sunset, like Gods treasure trove.

Red…is.


Light (Sunday Post)

This is my contribution to the Sunday Post weekly challenge.  I’m not completely satisfied with it, but I’m not sure why, and I know the more I struggle with it the harder it’ll resist.  So here it is.  😛  (rewrite/edit.  Much thanks and hugs to my friend Len, who never fails to impress me with her insight and brains.  She rewrote the end of the poem for me, creating a much needed end point where I had left it wide open.  Now, a challenge to all…who can tell me the three classic fairy tales that I reference here?  Good luck!)

the green light of jealousy, madness and fear,
the light of friendship, cherished and dear,
a glint of light on an apple so red,
the light that fades from the eyes of the dead,
the light that shines through the crystalline bier,
the healing power of light from a tear.

the light that shines in a cruelly high tower,
the light that marks each lonely hour,
a sparkle of light from a helm far below,
the light that makes eyes blink as downward they go,
the light of old power, as danger draws near,
the healing power of light from a tear.

golden curls gleam with a light all their own,
light in the blue eyes that sparkled and shone,
the green glow of jealousy, hatred and spite,
the flash of lightning that cuts through the night,
light that gleams from a needles sharp tip,
the light that fades from the candles that drip.

the light that returns to the dusty old halls,
the light from the candles that glow on the walls,
light fills the ballroom as chandeliers sway,
a thousand bright candles turn night into day,

light in the eyes that open and gleam,
awaking from sleep to the light of loves dream.


Dorme’

Waiting…

Waiting…

Was there ever a time in which
she didn’t lie there,
uncharacteristically silent,
those brilliant crystal eyes
shut away behind pearly lids,
that expressive oh-so-useful mouth
gone slack and restfully still?

Was there ever, truly, a time when
our two voices mingled in these halls,
when our footsteps echoed
as we pelted across marble tiles,
laughing, to fall at last upon her bed?

And what a bed it was.
Two acres of the finest satins and silks,
piled to the depths of a well
with featherbeds and down stuffed pillows,
none of it softer than the feel of her skin on mine.

The strong heavy curtains hid us from sight,
muffled the happy sounds of our play.

I, I had her first! Not some slobbering hairy beast
whose only interest in her is as some
obscene planter for his seed,
like a greedy farmer
calculating the yield of his crops!

HE SHALL NOT HAVE HER!

And so I wait. Here in these rooms thick with unnatural sleep.
Here, behind the shadow of the towering hedge I have so carefully tended,
its thorns as wide as my wrist, as sharp as thought…I wait.

(Hmm…seems this poem works for quite a few prompts this week.  That makes me happy, as you all know I love my fairy tales.  So thank you  again, WeWritePoems, for letting me do what I love!)


Aside

Faerie Hill

underneath the faerie hill,
lovely fairies, dancing still,
can you see them where they hide?
do you dare to look inside?
careful all who wander near,
man of means or children dear,
for you may just disappear,
and with the fae folk ride!