Fae Folk

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  • Nature

    Fae Folk

    Wings of gold and amethyst gleam off of the Moon's midnight gaze, adding an otherwordly glow to the water's edge.

    Giving off a mistic hue of magic and calm anticipation, the night beckons unto the lost and emptiness of regularity.

    The ripples in the blanket of stars twinkle and dance along the gentle waves of the pool, and slowly the air rises into a fit of dandelions beguiling one another.

    To our lungs, the air is thick, and made of shallow breaths. To the folk who live in this dark forest, is as light as a feather on the breeze.

    The music begins, the euphony of tiny voices and instruments of Magick. Creeping along the treeline and into the water, it hums and throbs with expectancy of whats to come before dawn.

    The lilt and sway of the flowers dancing and swirling lights of serendipity make for a fascinating scene of rhyme and unity. The blues of water, the amethyst of wings, and an explosion of notes supended in air.

    It is twilight, and the Fae Folk have come alive for one more evening of dance and delight. The forest has old Magick within it's roots, releasing them into the night sky as thoroughly as stars imploding with their own magnificence.
    Enthrallment is drawing near, and vanishes within Dawn's grasp. Let Magick pull you into Her loving, dangerous arms.









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    lonewolf162 commented on Fae Folk

    01-21-2010

    thats super cool i realy like the fae man i cld see them when i read it

    Mrpoetry commented on Fae Folk

    01-21-2010

    good poem young lady keep up the good writing................

    queenrosered commented on Fae Folk

    01-21-2010

    Wonderful, skilled and fantasy-filled imagary BJ! Thanks so much for this "trip" into another realm!! Love and Peace, Rose! XD

    kpeery09 commented on Fae Folk

    01-21-2010

    Very Nice, I like this alot, I even like how you associated it with music very nice. I give you 10

    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

    bjenkins’s Poems (16)

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