Category Archives: fantasy

Into the Looking Glass

Into the Looking Glass

Just beyond the glass 

A land I have never seen

A place of fairy wings and mermaid tails

And hills of verdant green

Hand to hand I see myself

Reflected in these dreams

Step through the mirror

Creases in reality’s seams

Pop! I’ve arrived

On the other side.

What is it that I see?

A magical fairy boat ride.

I grab the rough railing

And board the steady boat.

Sitting on a tree stump stool,

I wait to cross the moat.

Suddenly, a rainbow appears,

Streaking across the emerald sky.

Along with a Leprechaun

Wearing a clover tie.

“Come with me,

My earthbound Dearie

See the fairyland sights

Which are neither dank nor dreary.”

” Lessons three you shall learn

On the way to me pot of Gold

And in the end you shall receive

Riches untold”

And then:

Three tiny fairies land

Twittering in language unknown

Verily no bigger than a hand.

“The iridescent sprites

Have not a care

They love life

And give death not a stare”

“As shall you

Love your life

Look past hardships

And not embrace strife”

The boat started moving

Down the sparkling ravine

Looking around I gazed in awe

At many magical sights unseen.

Cerulean trees

Line the banks of blue

And fragrant flowers 

Bring bees of a different hue

My ears! My ears!

What do they hear?

A melodious song

Look- mermaids draw near!

Their beauty is stunning

From iridescent scales to sapphire hair.

Holding golden mirrors

And giving quite a stare.

The Leprechaun said,

“Look close into the mirror

Beauty you will see not

But a vision of horror.”

“Just as your own beauty fades

Lean not onto it’s ethereal charm

Love your inner self

And you shall not come to harm.”

We left the sirens behind,

Approaching a sulphurous smell.

At the sight of dragon,

Of fear I had to quell.

Bright Flames, 

the color of the sun

Heated the rocks

Causing them to run.

Says the Leprechaun:

“Be not afraid of the strong.

Embrace their strength,

And you can do no wrong.”

And then the boat landed

In a mushroom dell.

As I stepped off,

I nearly fell.

Says the Leprechaun,

“There be me pot of Gold.

Look inside, look inside

If you be so bold.”

Slowly, step by tenuous step,

I climbed up the hill.

As I reached the cauldron,

My heart failed to be still.

Riches I want!

What would I find?

Gold bullions and rubies?

Leave my poor life behind.

Peer inside

What do I behold?

A shiny little rock

Surely not gold.

I grasp the rock

And my world spins

Suddenly, I’m back at the mirror

Where everything begins 

I look into the Looking Glass.

What do I see?

A beautiful golden soul

Staring back at me.

The Rise and Fall of the Fairy Queen: My Bipolar Journey

The Rise and Fall of the Faerie Queen, My Bipolar Journey

 

People have inquired about my personal journey through the extremes my illness brings.

Let me elaborate.

Right now, in this moment, I own success.  My feet are grounded upon the Earth I was born.

Yet, often I desire to be more than myself, to be better, grander– magical.

The only caveat is I must let the elixir of strength and wellness seep from my daily cup.

Only thus-seemingly so, so simple, yet profound.

This temptation to ascend to the high places, to cast away my mere humanity, eats away at my resolve, bit by bit.

Until, one day, I give in and set aside my daily pill.

At first, nothing happens.  Why would it?  Who but the sick need to take such bitter daily droughts?

More days pass- elixir forgotten, resolve long chipped away until it exits no more.

Soon, life’s toils are easier to bare, smiles easier to wear.

Feet no longer on meager ground, but standing in the clouds;

I succumb to the glorious promise the elixirless world offers.

 

And I transform into the Faerie queen,

Glittery Green and sparkling Gold.

I ascend to my lunar throne, gravity no longer pulling me down.

My magic enables feats of super fae proportions-

Novels appear, ideas and plans reproduce into grand schemes.

They go off into my land singing my praises,

“Look, see this shining soul?  Isn’t she the picture of health? She didn’t need the sooth-sayer’s cure after all.”

In a short span, these bright birthed plans have assembled a court of sentient admirers, clambering for my presence,

offering hedonistic experiences and endless resources.

I look down upon the Earthly realm and revel in this weightlessness, this ease of creation.

All is perfection.

 

But, my own admirers, my well formed schemes, start jealous whispers-

rumors of cracks and faults in my pearlescent  walls.

I attempt to banish them, but they clasp on, one by one, until I cannot see above them or around them, and I must be hypervilligent of their barbs.

Minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day; no rest or succor in sight.

No escape from the schemes and plans and seemly courteous thoughts-

Now abandoned of sentience and clamped upon inch of coppery skin.

 

Until-

I fall from this gallant throne,

fall not to Earth

but past it, beat upon meteors and rocky rivers,

Until my feet crash through Jupiter’s atmosphere.

This hyper gravity strips away my wings and fairy crown.

I now must swim through leaded air as a mere mortal-

Nay, a sub mortal with empty sycophant schemes dangling from ashen skin.

My eyes only see a few meters beyond myself in this graphene muck and mire.

Gravity, who once lifted my wings and helped me soar above in the lunar land,

now adds a triple weight to every breath.

Every action, every motion forward is stolen by this massive weight.

Until, I can move no more.

 

Alive, but deadened in this Jovian Hell.

Not free to escape, but free to ponder my release.

What release is possible?

What path may lead back to Earth,

back to the human realm?

In this moment, my once grand courtiers, schemes and plans reanimate;

they scream devious paths, knives, and chemical concoctions.

“Cut us off- dare not take a breath, End this leadened rule!

Stop this existence;

You must – you must!

You abandoned all; you are alone.

Hope is lost.”

And I close my eyes.

Still…. Still… waiting for the nothing.

 

Yet, I hear a faint jingle penetrating the Jovian air.

A soft hand lifts my head and I open my eyes

to find the order of white knights, snake-crossed and succor full,

offering soft words of wisdom and capsules of elixir.

I drink and a doorway appears.

Dare I enter?  Dare I cast off this beastly burden?

Hands appear from beyond the crossing-

hands of friendships forgotten and valiant mental warriors

beckoning for me to just lift my arms and grab a hold.

Do I?  Do I trust the help unlooked for?

Do I continue to drink the elixir

and allow the hands to carry me through?

 

Yes, I grab hold.

Inch by inch, step by step,

I am pulled through the passageway.

As I cross through the portal,

these hands pluck off the misguided plans, schemes and sychophants.

Wise words guide my bleeding soles to Earthly soil

and a glint of hope kindles,

blazing away hyper Jovian gravity.

I am just me, yet again.

 

And I declare my promises to stay grounded.

To accept the Earthly realm as my only home.

Not to stray- to listen to Wisdom;

not to quit the elixir mending my heart and soul.

In this acceptance is solace.

For without, I shall surely rise to greater and greater heights complete grander and greander feats,

and fall further and further

until I disintegrate and there are not the pieces to patch together into a whole.

 

I choose hope over dazzle,

Strength over magic,

And wellness over exuberance.

 

I choose me.

Ode to My Precious

A Sonnet of love and sorrow:

Gollum

Oh my precious, my dear birthday present

In this moment I hold thee above,

After a long and arduous ascent,

I have returned to thee that I love.

You shine brighter than yonder yellow face;

Blind am I to this life, this world I hate:

Of fisssh, toothless, tasteless, leaving no trace.

“Gullum, Gullum.”  I have become of late.

Yet, I, Smeagol, promise never to leave.

Hard fought, I stand upon these rocky grounds.

Never again to part, never to grieve.

Death I have forsaken in your gold bounds.

Now, as you descend in the fire with me;

My precious, eternity will I have with thee.

I, Butterfly

I, Butterfly

What has been written

that has not already been written?

What has been said

that has not already been said?

Is there no new place,

no new frontier

that man and his imagination

have not explored?

Can’t a single sparklight up a darkened room?

Can’t a lonely whisper

give voice to those once silent?

Is there not one action

that cannot change the universe?

Is there not one ripple

that cannot be felt across space and time?

 

 

***This is something originally written at least 10 years ago.  It only existed as the words on the left column. I cut many words and added a little balance; I gave it wings so to speak.

Willow

 

willow

Weep,

Oh Willow;

pour your tears

in the gentle well.

Your misty eyes shroud

your face amongst

the golden leaves.

Sad, sad tree,

smile and cast away

your sorrows.

Be glad; grow strong!

Dream;

Dream towards your tomorrows.

Camelot

Camelot

 Pretty little peacocks

peacock feathers

watching beautiful lies,

displayed as fantasies

on their feather’s eyes.

 

Let us admire our feathers

and watch our life on stage,

while our soul searches for Camelot;

our mind sees but a page.

 

Come now, come all,

to Camelot I go;

the dream of purity

and righteousness I shall know.

 

Tither, tither,

All evil I will forsake;

and never will my quest be ended-

This vow I do make:

 

Never cease cradling the stars,

or reaching for the hand of God.

Camelot, my dear Camelot,

the only place I will trod.

 

Its Virtues I embrace,

insidiously good virtues,

and hold them as my light

Lo, it banishes all the night.

 

And if silent death

shall capture me before

I find my Camelot

and open its door-

 

Then bury me

in my feather’s tears,

so I may dream of Camelot

for the rest of my years.

Taking the Plunge: Self Publication

So, I have decided that I am going to compile a short chapbook to give away and possibly sell during poetry readings.  I love making books, and this will be no exception.  The last book I made, I used paper I created (complete with flowers) and sewed it together by hand.

My list of questions:

1. Which poems should I include?

2.Should I also include my photography?

3.What should I name it??

4. How many should I make??

5. What materials should I use?

I googled, “How to make a chapbook.” and found a good 8 sheet template (16 book pages).

I am using the following resources to help in this endeavor:

http://nataliethompson.ca/2012/11/20/an-entry-about-my-chapbooks/

http://www.vanessakeccles.com/2011/06/how-to-create-your-own-chapbook.html

I will be posting updates including photos to document this exciting event. 🙂

Genetically Modified Food… Is it evil?

GM-lemon

Like many issues that I do not have enough information about to make a stand on, I have been wondering about the Monsanto crusade and where I stand. I started with this article:  http://www.webmd.com/food-recipes/features/are-biotech-foods-safe-to-eat  , and this blog, http://www.stormfront.org/forum/t931416/  and have many more to go before I even begin to understand this issue.

First of all, I am not sure if the issue is A. the company, B. against genetically modified food, C. both.

Genetically modifying food in itself is not evil. Humans have been doing it for a looong while…. but calling it cross breeding for specified trait. Granted it took generations of breeding to get the right expressions, hence changing the genetic makeup ever so slightly each generation (or the expressions of thereof of the genes). So now we have the technology to skip this long tedious process and change the genetic code directly….
Again, this in itself isn’t the “evil” part. I don’t know how the end product is any different than waiting generations for the desired result…but again, I need more information in the form of peer reviewed studies verifying this.

Most of the argument that I have come across one way or another seems to be very emotionally driven.  I don’t like to go on “gut” feelings alone.  So, if you have anything that points either direction, please share.

And The Trees Talk to Me

tree

And the trees talk to me in their whispered voices.
Can’t you hear their plea?
Their roots run deep through Earth and time
Their hearts beat as one
Their Arms reach out to the heavens above
In the palm of their hands, they hold the sun
Their very breath is life.

Yet lonely is this voice,

lost among a forest of humanity.

We heed not their cries. We  listen not to their warnings.
They are dead to us; objects to use- a means to an end.
Yet, I hear their plea;
I feel their pain stretching back generations
“The end is neigh,” they whisper

as they wither away leaf by leaf.

“We hold up the sky,”

“If all of our arms shall fall,

than the Earth shall surely die.”

So, fellow denizen of this planet.

Let us heed their sage words

and curb our selfish desires.

Either we shall live with a few wants

or the Earth shall want for a soul forever.

Fairy’s Ball

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