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The Fairies

June 20, 2017
By Luckystar78 ELITE, London, Other
More by this author
Luckystar78 ELITE, London, Other
114 articles 0 photos 97 comments

Favorite Quote:
"..though warm as summer it was fresh as spring." (Thomas Hardy) ("Far from the Madding crowd")

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Hum of a fairy’s wing; stretched out like a butterfly breath; sheathed in colours violet and blue; moved into focus, in a whisper: a stretch of a feathered fingerprint; dancing in the air; it raises its webbed leg: and glitters fall in a silver net, that; tactile: entwine themselves in the sinews and bones: the flesh not solid but dust. A white glow emits from the darkness: that lights up the show, that arises from the black: the invisible chalkboard of performance and song: the pointed leg; flying into ash, as it twirls and perfects, in a toadstool of actors, who make dust out of the night air: who make rain from the drops of pain.            

Huddled together: gold enchanting their waxen: strands of hair, they meet in a midnight of fingers: of drawn circles: of notes rising: as a piano.

Twist of a violin’s arm: music is made, bang of an instrument lid: the dancing: and the fairies, begin to fade.

© Ashley T., Westport, MA

The author's comments:

This is a short piece of dark poetry; expressing the pathos of tragedy. It follows a mystical narrative of fairies: an allegory for the pain and magic of desire. The musical rhythms I have alluded to in this work; are in the form of objects such as the piano: and in the light; short verses: that characterise this short ballad.

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