Elfwood is the worlds largest SciFi & Fantasy community.
- 149233 members, 2 online now.
- 13221 site visitors the last 24 hours.
My favorite poem is A November Night by Sara Teasdale. I thought I'd like to write something that *resembled* it in form, and this was my attempt... Fall is my favorite season and I thought I'd also like to write something that made me feel like it was September no matter what time of year I was in.
See them? There they go!
Those long, dancing lines of happy people
From Saxton"s Farm. They"re going to the square,
Each one of them the tender guardian
Of a watermelon--and look and see
That they"ve taken all of Mr. Saxton"s melons;
Didn"t they leave even a pair behind for us?
You look so heart-broken that they haven"t
And that we should be left absent from this
Lovely annual hunt for the fairies...
But worry not my darling,
For I remember well that overcast night
Last Saturday when you found for me that Lonely,
Coruscating star amidst the depthless pitch of the sky;
And what giddiness you let into my young heart
I should now work to impart upon yours with my
Knowledge of the fairies and their fickle ways:
Let our neighbors and those shadowy strangers
Marching along the uneven crests of those
Darkened, dreaming hills, all have and enjoy
Their civil boons, for I know well the royal dreams
Of the Watermelon Fairy Queen, and stately dreams
As hers are never had in such domestic
Fruit as Mr. Saxton"s... She must dream her
Dreams as a sleeping deity in a wild
Melon somewhere in those woods
That border all we know--somewhere
Beneath the verdant boughs and lain gently
On the mossy floor that has so often been
The tile of our playground. O, now there"s
That smile that"s made in me that secret crush!
I would that I could see it always, but
The world is heavy on your mind and shoulders,
As it is on mine, and so I shall be content
With having it in this kind, late-summer
Evening... I"m smiling, too, as you take
My hand in yours and lead me through
The spiny skin of the forest to where
The moon only sometimes reaches, and
Only ever with a silvery yawn.
The orange bobbing of the lanterns held by
Those receding lines of people have
Grown faint to you and me now, but we
Keep on, never-minding the growing
Darkness nor the hour nor the sounds of
The forest, which promulgate the business
Of life beyond the veil of shadow with
Ululating cries and an electric insectoid humming.
My only sadness is not being able to see you
In the dark. I miss your smile already,
Your kind, round eyes, which glow as tropical
Waters yet unrealized by the irritation and
Pollution of mankind. It shall have to be enough
For me that I can hold your hand and
Navigate the darkness; I know it is enough
For my anxious thoughts and all the worries
That have collected upon me, like dew
Drops on the skin of a rose, to fall completely
From me... There! See it? In that yonder
Divot--a wild watermelon, fully matured
And sleeping soundly on the vine--
I"m sure of the magic swirling all around
Its dirty shell; the Queen of the Watermelon Fairies
Must surely be beholden of that regal melon
For her home, but if we should snap it
From its vine, and cut it open, and find it
Empty of her ambrosial presence, then let us
Say that it was only a single palace of hers
In a much grander estate, and let us eat
Of the meat and drink of the juice and be
Content and search no more for her...Ah, there,
The sun has set now, and where is Selene to
Show us that the lighted lengths of this little day
Of ours has gone? The clouds, distant and invisible giants
In that encompassing pitch, make it so that
She cannot shine. I think that this has been a
Good day now... O, but if in all the years to come
I could turn back to my antiquity and see again
The magic of this lovely place in the world, this
Time spent with you, I should be happy and
Wanting of nothing more in life, for the magic
Of this day has never come from the strange,
Mysterious air put off by the swaying, golden,
Fields of barley, nor the incarnadine skies at dusk,
Nor even from the coming and going of the hazy
Auras of the fireflies in the fields at night--no,
The magic of this day of the Festival of the
Watermelon Fairy Queen is found in you
And your loving embrace, in the slow walk
We"ll enjoy back through the noisy woods towards
Our warm, beaming homes... In the morning,
You will go your own way, to the fields,
To the mill, to the woods here again, and I
Will go my own way, and our lives will somehow
Seem diluted by the light of the world and
The people all in it; but right now, I think
The fairies have blessed us and conspired to
Arrange this lonely meeting of lovers in the
Empty woods--Ah, it"s a grand feeling, this... Finally!
You and I are come to a place in the world
That none have yet touched with hand or heart.
Isn"t it exciting as nothing else in life has ever been?
We two alone!
|The Pink Scarf||The Watermelon Fairy; Or, The Clairseeley|
|I'll Die Yesterday|