A Fairy stepped outside her door,
what’s this lying on the floor?”
A closer look and my, oh, my,
a star had fallen from the sky!
It lay there twinkling, sparkling bright,
encircled by a ring of light.
“I’ll take it to the Fairy Queen,
a fallen Star I’ve never seen!”
The Fairy Queen both old and wise,
said “we must return it to the skies,
for by tonight it’s light will die,
but how to place it in the sky?
We need a Bird who’s not afraid,
to do whatever he is bade,
who’ll take it to the highest peak,
safely carried in his beak.
Brave Eagle is the Bird we need,
he’s the one to do the deed!”
The Eagle listened to the plan,
“I pledge to help you all I can!”
The Star had dimmed before their eyes,
as the great Bird flew into the skies.
With baited breath they watched below,
as the Star again began to glow!
When it raced into the darkening night,
it left an Arc of dazzling light,
and so it was…by break of dawn,
a Shooting Star had now been born!

Janet Gillow ©2010 Lancaster UK

While peering through the cumulus
On Southwest desert flight
I saw a gnome with pointed hat
Upon the wing alight

He sat carefree quite near the edge
His beard blown by the breeze
His tiny feet were dangling
Oblivious, at ease

Kabouter, I identified
That ancient lowland gnome
Oft did we meet in childhood
Near my ancestral home

The bright-edged wing turned upward
And sliding from its tip
The enlivened leprechaun
Played on this aerial ship

As he bounced off my window
My mind flew off its track
His beard was gone, his hat transformed
And hunched became his back

I should have known, I might have guessed
Who’d come along to ride
The trickster Kokopelli
The Southwest desert’s pride

A distant kin to impish Puck
He plays upon a flute
He scatters notes, not magic juice
And brings fresh rain, new root

I lost him on the desert train
That through the night and morn
Rolled onward to enchanted land
Where Kokopelli ’s born

Arrived at arid snow-swept  fields
Where once fierce battles played
But where through tumult and distress
Kokopelli stayed

Now Kokopelli’s everywhere
In silver and in blue
But his commercial countenance
Feels incomplete, untrue

As winter’s sun began to set
I found what storefronts lack:
My breath poured through a simple flute
Brought Kokopelli back

G minor pentatonic
The tunes cannot sound wrong
Kokopelli’s spirit
Kokopelli’s song

Dorothea Barth©2010 Vallejo CA USA

Is worry a bad fairy?
Or other spirit-folk?
That haunt my bed at three A.M.
To cruelly play a joke?

Won’t you find some other play
Or go back to the wood?
Why do you bring me sleepless nights
Please leave me if you could

There must be better things to do
Go find some trolls to tease
Or frolic by the lily pond
And make the bull-frogs sneeze

I plead with you my worry-sprite
Be a sweeter little person
If you linger in my mind
My anxiety will worsen

As a mental exercise
Think of your worst fear
Imagine you had broken wings
My condition will be clear!

Please join me on a Friday night
We’ll watch movies until dawn
Play until the morning light
Chase bunnies on the lawn

So fairy of my desperate night
Look in your little heart
Sprinkle me with sleepy dust
And sing a song while you depart!

Theo van Joolen©2010 NY USA

There’s a pixie underneath my desk
Who is playing with my shoes
Unplugging my computer wires
And singing pixie blues

My pixie, he is bound to me
A servant to my needs
When he is bored and quite irate
He performs mischievous deeds

He reminds me if it’s time
To stroll the park and get some air
If I ignore his sound advice
He’ll sulk and coldly stare

He sings the blues in pixie tongue
Ethereal and dark
The only thing I understand is
“Take me to the park!”

If I nudge my pixie back
Still typing on my keys
He’ll scurry up my pant legs
And bite my sleepy knees

If I flick him to the ground
He’ll launch a pixie-rage
And sing more loudly till I can’t
Sees words upon my page

Then I know its time to walk
With my pixie on my hat
Who just wants me to be balanced
And with nature have a chat

That’s why I have my pixie friend
To remind me I must play
For sitting too long in one place
Can spoil a finer day.

Theo van Joolen ©2010 NY USA

I’m worried about my future ghost
The one that takes my place
When I soar the netherworld
How will I show my face?

Will my spirit sing out loud
Will I haunt with pride?
Will immortals know my name
And thank me that I died?

I refuse to wither
To unadorned remains
O let me be a sexy sprite
Not Marley wrapped in chains

You’ll shudder at my fearsome guile
My piercing eyes aglow
The cut of my new ghostly jib
As slick as feathered crow

The question that I ponder most
Before I enter murky grave
Will my simple poetry
Make my specter brave?

If the picture that I leave
In ninety years won’t shame
I’ll send shivers down your spine
You’ll rue the day I came

But I am not a ghost quite yet
Put down your farewell toast
I still enjoy the scenery
From my earthly post.

Theo van Joolen©2010 Greenwich NY USA

I took a lovely header
In the fine white snow
Today my eye looks so much better
As the black and blue does show

It was the Brandy I would think
That should not have touchd my lips
A Goblin bought me that last drink
And told me “just take sips”

The sweet brown ale I had before
Was fine with fish and fries
But when I got to number four
That Goblin stole my eyes

“It’s poet’s fare, so don’t be coy”
My Goblin friend declared
“You’re such a decent, pretty boy”
No compliments were spared.

“Back Goblin! and remove that look
I’m not your friend tonight!
Just let me read my story-book!”
He smiled and said, “Quite right.”

Soon there was a glass in front
That glowed a maple hue
“Just a taste,”  did Goblin grunt
“I would, if I were you.”

“I’ll take one more you sprite of doom
And then, be on your way!
Go back to your unholy tomb!
I tire of your play.”

I left that Goblin, gruesome blob
From his lair I fled
He grinned at me, he’d done his job
Asked, “Is it me you dread?”

I sighed relief in freshened air
With pride I grit my teeth
Then tripped upon the icy stair
Where pavement lie beneath!

I took a header in the snow
Not so white and pure
From a room where Goblins grow
Of this, I am quite sure.

Theo van Joolen ©2010 NY USA

On the foggy streets of London
Lives a keeper of the flame
Who barters lovely images
And proudly sings our name

Like the slayer of Goliath
A mighty dragon, he does soar
Great friend he is to Fairyland
He chronicles our lore

Rich he is in spirit
Most powerful of pen
Back to England brings our light
That gives us hope again

The freedom of a greater force
Share the spirits of the Fae !
Embrace the magic of our realm
Enjoy a brighter day!

Peer through the craftman’s cloth-bound wares
If his wondrous shoppe you find
Breathe in the beauty that you see
Be one with Nature’s kind

He is Father of the Fairy World
His name is known abroad
With fairies, gnomes and spirit-folk
Great Mother does applaud!

If seeking shelter from the rain
On a dark and dreary night
With painted fables warm yourself
Keep dancing into light!

Dedicated to David Riché and Myrea Pettit and their Fairy World Shoppe
by Theo van Joolen©2010 Greenwich Village NY USA

The wind’s song sighs and summons
Cabled sweater, Irish wool
Tug silver shamrock closure
Someone’s discard, my cup ’s full

Topped off with yet a rarer find
Dublin cape in forest green
Who would wish to part with that?
What other souls have such capes seen?

The French Lieutenant’s Woman
The ones who dance the reel
The poet at my wedding
The maidens of O’Neill

A flock of red macaws proclaims
Greens of different zones
Wind never at my back today
Birds protest, umbrella groans

Scant view beyond the forest
Swims the lion near?
What progress on Mare Island?
Mute metal cranes can’t hear

Snap! sting three spokes in my hand
Leaving only Éire
As canopy collapses
Farewell to tropics fair!

It is breathtaking enough
Irish rain, Atlantic’s roar
Solitude’s surrender
On California’s shore

Dorothea Barth©2010 Vallejo CA USA

Fairies in the City:

The New York Adventures of Dew & Drop

The Journey Begins

Dew and Drop, two fairies frantic
Great energy unbound
Said Fairie-King, “Just one more antic,
“I’ll tie you to the ground!”

“Great Fairie-King, we so revere
Don’t blame us for our fire
We fuel on tricks, good fun, and cheer
Some adventure we desire!”

“Dear children,” said the Fairie-King
“I know so well your plight
Your nature bids you soar and sing
In every creature you delight!

As humans often make their tracks
On trails through our land bend
To their realm, to view their acts
As students I will send.”

“Oh, Great Adirondack-Lord!
We thank you with our hearts
For, frankly, we were getting bored
We know so well these parts”

“But I will warn, you must observe
The city will amaze
Beware your pranks and check your verve
Be careful of your ways!

To humans, do not come too near
They posses a different guile,”
Before the King made himself clear
Dew and Drop had flown a mile!

“Our nighttime realm, the edge we cross
To seek the world outside
Do you have a clue, I’m at a loss
Where does glimmer-city hide?

Let’s follow thundering herd below
That runs with circled-feet
At night they travel, eyes aglow
On road they call concrete.

Then Dew and Drop pursued quite close
And chased a boisterous beast
They breathed a most unhealthy dose
Of air they liked the least

“I do not like this noxious mist
My sight, disturbed and grey,”
Drop coughed and sneezed and roughly hissed
“Let’s fly to water-way!”

A better path for Dew and Drop
Awaited them quite near
They crossed a field of farmer’s crop
Once more their vision clear

“What most majestic, wondrous course!
Father River guides us true
This feels much like our woodland force
We’ll float on breeze straight through.”

As our fairies, dreary-dazed
Lofted on the gentle breeze
Lifted wings, while they praised
Sweet moments such as these

“What giant bird on Father’s back?
Or winged-whale does ride?
Wind fills the great wing like a sack
Bright flags wave on the side.”

Dew swooped to play with streaming banner
Drop bounced off wind-blown wing
They frolicked in a fairie-manner
Beneath full moon, began to sing

Brother whale, eye opened wide
Beamed warm and piercing glow
But what is this? A man inside?
Emerged from room below.

A swimming-house, not whale, nor swan
That stopped while man did lurk
He folded wing that soon was gone
Tossed hook to end his work

“What magic comes from humans, here?
In water they may dwell
Great city, not their only sphere
My mind rings like a bell!

Oh Drop, to yonder field we fly
This journey’s just begun
Let’s follow treetops up on high
And bask in rising sun.”

Coming soon…

Fairies in the City: The New York Adventures of Dew & Drop, is a completed 13-chapter story-poem.  Follow the grand tour of two young fairies who are anxious and excited to explore the larger world of the city outside of their home in the Adirondack Forest.

Following their young fairy-natures, they stumble into situations where their magic and mischief intersect with many of the city‘s most familiar sights & sounds, cultural monuments, and human activities.  These include the Metropolitan Museum of Art, Shakespeare in the Park, The Metropolitan Opera, Empire State Building, and Coney Island.

The author is currently seeking publication of this work.

The author may be contacted at:  tvanjoolen@gmail.com

Theo van Joolen©2010 NY USA

Come dance with me among the jewelled hills
Alive with madness and bright faerie thrills
The great stone circles stand proud and tall
Pass through the veil and enter our hall.

Ceridwen leaps through the blazing bright fire
Her beauty alight as the flames burn higher
Bride with her bouquet of snowdrops looks on
With her promise of springtime in ethereal song

The Fair Witch-Queen Mab beckons the sun to rise
Epona and her steeds gallop through watery skies
Hecate bids her followers to dance with the Faes
Until all is forgotten in an otherworldly daze

So follow our voices to the Places of Old
Where thunder is silent and fire is cold
Come dance with your senses and sing with your dreams
Where promises are fleeting and not all as it seems.

Kate Summers©2010 UK

Neither rain, nor freezing sleet
Nor drastic lack of sleep
Keeps a runner off his feet
The race, a date to keep!

On this morn’ of soaking rain
I’m in a dreary daze
Eighteen miles I’ve yet to train
To join this running craze!

I roam the lovely Central Park
To practice for my marathon
I walk the trails in moonlit dark
To explore the path I’m on.

From starting horn to finish line
I’m wet from head-to-toe
An easier tempo should be mine
Some wisdom I should show

I invite the spirits of the wood
To join me on my quest
And ask the faeries if they could
Help me to do my best

Oh fly with me you gentle sprites
And sing with me my name!
Feel with me these strange delights
The heat of runner’s flame!

As I soar to unknown heights
On newborn dragon-wings
Guide me in my maiden flights
Where the heart most clearly sings!

In that place of calm repose
I feel the breath of our Great Mother
I stride with all life as it flows
From one realm to another.

The sun awakens from its slumber
The birds begin to speak
A gentle giant, I do lumber
I scale down from my peak

As I reach the final goal
I pound my heaving chest
Then to the glen to tend my soul
With faeries take my rest.

2010©Theo van Joolen NY USA

For believing in fairys love
I am yours forever, we enter healing abilities
For believing you areaway apart of me
Waking lighter cosmic my face, poured etched with a crystal Mandela
My sacred pattern is shared with another, pristine form
Bringing me magicalconsciousness
I am the highest sphere,energize
Awaken, moving through me like light
I am clairvoyant, lucid
Feel the transcendent past life journey we will make together
Washed visionary spectrum aligned with angels
Higher vessel of gemstones revealed, fairy light
Attuned with my fine vibrations you and I are now one

2010©Deborah Shepard Yelm USA

Sweet fluttering,dragonflies delight
Whispering notes sparkling in midsummer’s love
Blossoms sit near each rose filled door
Over each rose petal soft auaraSweet intoxicating serenity, sweet charms unseen
Lovers dance in fairy’s ball musical serenades each one
Fairy’s cellos play as each one changes auras light
With mystical universe, each illuminated plight

lacs draped in iridescent beauty, arrayed soft
Lighted candles fills the espied doors, lay waiting in each sparkling loft
Smiles of fairy’s tranquility, calling in mist Celtic moors
Vespers incantations , flames soft waning moon

2010©Deborah Shepard Yelm USA

On whom does Puck his juice bestow?
Whose sprinkling ardor does ignite
Of late it’s not on me, I know.

Saved perhaps for youthful glow
Where passion and desire alight
On whom does Puck his juice bestow?

May land above and not below
Dispersed in acrobatic flight
Of late it’s not on me, I know.

The maiden doused but not her beau
Transformed to vapor in the night
Where Puck did once his juice bestow.

Now tossed with mischief, then to blow
Rare liquid falling not quite right
Of late it’s not on me, I know.

‘Midst chattering gulls in silver flow
He hovers, waves, and winks delight
On whom does Puck his juice bestow?
Perhaps today on me, I know.

Dorothea Barth 2010© Vallejo CA USA

The rhyming-poet is dead
So I’ve heard it said
Write only abstract lines!
That wrack the cells inside your head

You can’t rhyme today!
In the tired, same old way
Unless hip-hop is your field
Then rap the night away!

Now it’s all the rage
To paint upon your page
Non-linear, free-form thought
If you’ve come of age!

Grey rain pelts my skull like the barbed
spears of my lover’s
poisoned rose…black cat, crossing
into beef stew spilled from the guts of a wino’s soul
charred, charred by battle
with twelve-tone scales…
Schoenberg witch’s brew… genius, devil, dagger…
cruel lovely joke played by mischievous gods…
drip, drop, drip, drop, drip…in dissonant chords
Major, then minor, then major again…no…minor
Twelve-tone wine-stew…winter rain song…

So, there’s my contribution to
The things that other poets do
Some with fancy MFA’s
Whose words I often can’t construe

But if I chose to sing a rhyme
Is it just a waste of time?
Am I just a big cliché?
Not as spiritual or sublime?

When fairies, dragons, happy sprites
Share my room on lonely nights
Am I then not serious
For dreaming verse and such delights?

Dragon wing shrouded over
false treasure, shimmering, death-lights
material hemlock stabbing
uncouth eyes, dark hearts
drinking Socrates’ tea
wasting fire-breath
guarding earth’s
ripped, emptied belly…hungry…atrophied…
mother’s milk of high infant mortality….
Red-Devil sparkler… phony flame….

So if the reader will agree
I’ll stick to rhymes that bring me glee
Pixie-songs and mermaid-tales
The stuff of childlike fantasy

And if my verse would be a sin
At open-mic in a Village inn
I’ll read to sparrows from a bench
I’m sure their little hearts I’ll win

When puppies all begin to bark
In the nearby doggie-park
I’ll hear “Encore!” from where I sit
And write more words with bounce and spark!

2010©Theo van Joolen NY USA