Voices from the wood they came
A mysterious flight of fancy
A serenade faintly familiar
Adrift upon a whisper of wind

Look up, look up into the trees
What do you see between the leaves
Difficult to see at first
The faeries clad in green

Can your imagination carry you that far
To hear what others cannot hear
To see what others dare not see
Between the shadows and the leaves

Gail Lawson White©2010 CA USA

When summer’s ripening glory glows
And berry time is very near
The elves join hands in mirthful dance
Bourrée is what you’ll likely hear

In dainty double time they step
Around  the sumptuous berry mound
The summer’s cornucopia
Grown high or low above the ground

Whether large or whether small
Whether aggregate or true
The delicate sweet fruits inspire
Whether purple, pink, or blue

The berries mul and berries cran
Grown rich and red across the sea
The berries elder or blackcurrant
Born from the shrub or from the tree

It doesn’t matter where they grow
Bright berries blue of Edward’s Isle
Or berries goose of Stonehenge soil
All Faeryland will dance and smile

by Dorothea Barth ©2010

Winter’s coming to an end
The harvest must be near
O Berryman, please be my friend
And help my work appear.

I’ve written a new story-book
An adventure that’s about
Two faeries and the trip they took
In NYC throughout!

Tiddymun, Tiddymun
My story’s begun
Now let it end!
Well done,
Well done!

O Berryman, please help me find
An agent who can see
The pictures that I have in mind
To bring the children glee

When picking New York’s blueberries
Share with me your luck
The favor that it carries
For the faery-struck!

Tiddymun, Tiddymun
My story’s begun
Now let it end!
Well done,
Well done!

And if you meet Poetic Pan
Put in a word for me
In Springtime, I’ll do what I can
For poetry’s the key!

O Berryman, thanks for your ear
I feel the time is ripe
To publish a fine tale this year
Then we can share a pipe!

Tiddymun, Tiddymun
My story’s begun
Now let it end!
Well done,
Well done!

Theo van Joolen ©NY USA

———————————————————————————————-

From the description and image, “A Berryman” [with The Green Woman] by Brian Froud [Good Faeries, Bad Faeries]

A Berryman:

Seen mostly in the autumn, this faery watches over the ripening of berries. Call on him for help in bringing projects to conclusion. He seems to be receptive to this doggerel:

Tiddymun, Tiddymun
My story’s begun
Now let it end
Well done
Well done!

Awakened by a buzz of honey bees
A vineyard faery tumbles from her bowers
Inhales the fragrant morning mist, then spins
And lands amidst a sea of mustard flowers

Although the grape leaves do not yet ascend
To grow sweet fruit for man’s divine content
The bees and elves are early satisfied
In yellow petals find their element

Some centuries since golden trail was strewn
Along the California verdant coast
The missions followed golden rosary
Now bounteous grapes produce a golden toast

The vineyard’s rejouissance so soon arrives
While snowflakes dance across more distant hills
Precocious greening graces all the fields
Late winter faery’s effervescence spills

by Dorothea Barth ©2010

What goes through your mind
When you are going on seven
And your kite is bucking the wind
And there’s a rainbow in heaven

Are you marveling at the view
Or is your kite all that matters
As you keep the string taut
Whilst the wind gusts and batters

Is your heart pounding?
Are you feeling great?
As your kite soars the heavens
And you shout to your mates

Yes . .What goes through your mind
When your kite rides a rainbow
Is God smiling at you?
And simply saying “Hello”
. . .

Well . . that’s all very well
Yet it is just superstition . .
But for me the scene is more logical
And much more fulfilling

For the view completes the oracle
About the Leprechaun’s gold
A great hoard of treasure
As countless fairytales foretold

Yes . . just look at that treasure
Steering his kite through the sky
I feel that at the end of this  rainbow . .
Is a treasure that money can’t buy

Albert Gazeley © March 2010

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

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

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

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

Hidden in the bluebell woods,
underneath a tree
There’s a little Pixie shop
as jolly as can be.

Spangle dust and tinsel thread,
stuff for making spells,
everything a fairy needs
the Pixie shopman sells.

If only we were small enough
how pleasant it would be
to peek inside that little shop
underneath the tree.

F Proctor 2010©Glasgow UK

The Fae’s song,
Enchantingly sung
Makes my soul sway along,

Trees shake,
Flowers dance
Mother nature about to wake,

No curses broken,
Nor hexes cast
Only true magic spoken,

Though summer may end,
Winter’s turn again
But the plants will mend,

And the Fae’s song will come,
Filling the skys
With a dreamer’s hum.

Katie Glover 2010©Missouri USA

Fly Ladybird, Ladybird fly,
Let’s soar on a dream,
Just you and I,
To snow draped mountains
And silvery skies,
Where snow leopards leap
And stars never cry.

s.k. lindeman2010©NY USA