Quiet Blessings

The Fairy Princess

Happily she comes, enchanted by
light, the thin mirrors of her
wings giving way to seeds of
promise. She sways back and
forth, along edges of stained
glass reflections, hiding her playful
plight as she goes on. Soft gold
befalls her face, the lovely shade
of emerald jewels hiding pearls
slung across her neck. Songs of
knights and princesses fall from
her childish lips. She crosses her
courts, the memories
never far from
She lulls herself to sweet
silence, as she dances within
the flowers – bluebells for flutes,
magnolias for violins, soft, pale
tulips for trumpets, unborn buds
for drums – the crown she bears
never falling from her head. A
crown and a scepter that only she
commands, she fulfills fortunes,
caresses wreathes and leaves, and
fragile wishes she made long
She watches them,
yet she sadly
but she carries on, her sugary
words guiding the melody of
her waltz, the limericks of her
companion not far from her.

Underneath the velvet skies

Sweet laughter waltzes around
the fires, the warmth of hearths
inviting darkness to sleep. Quiet
traces of foolishness calmly
shroud the night air, hazy smoke
arising from the embers. Singing
and dancing in sanctified light, the
tall oak trees whisper stories to
withered leaves, the vines carefully
sheltering innocent buds from boorish
Shadows dance to time’s youth, their
pendulums swinging to the beats of
tambourines and drums, warm drinks
along the fray. Music abounds, with
fresh basil hanging from the
windows. The feast is here, and the
winter storm fiercely blows.
Ivory towers, through the wood,

castles from afar,

kings and queens and

knights and princesses,

with a dragon,

waiting to be slain;

But won’t you stay,

and play,

for just a little


The Aristocrats’ Lovely Afternoon

Haven’t the slightest idea about
today, no, not at all, although
the bakery smells wonderful, and
the church bells are ringing, but
so loudly, so very, very loudly,
with old man Adams screaming at
the top of his lungs just to try and
hear his sweet daughter, whose
just about lost her already
forgotten mind.
What a terribly boring morning but
we hear our doorbell ringing. Is
it the milkmaid, who keeps trying
us many a time, or is it mother,
who always yells at us to do
something useful? Is it the strange
girlie, who keeps asking us to look
after the boy, or rather the boy,
who is usually so impatient with
An odd pair, those two make. What
business do we have with them
though? Nothing at all! Although
they do give us cheese and milk
and milk and cheese; the cow did
jump over something, right? Ah,
the rivers! The stupid thing got
into the barns again!
Ah, the doorbell is still ringing.
No, the cow! Get the cow! The
cow, the cow! But who could that
be? Perhaps it is the boy; after all,
he’s come so many times, but it
could be someone else. The
girlie did warn them about
Should we open the door?
No, no we shouldn’t. The girlie
said to be careful, didn’t she? And
the boy told us to listen to the
girlie. The girlie and the boy, so
smart for their age. And they’re
beautiful too. So beautiful and
lovely in all their finery.
Should we open the door?
Ah, where did the boy come from?
The girlie said she found him
somewhere, but she can’t
remember exactly where. How
strange, since she was supposed to
be the brightest, smartest girlie
they’ve ever met.
Should we open the door?
But there’s the way she sings too.
Oh, a frightful voice she has;
frightfully, terrifyingly hollow. If
it weren’t for the boy, we
would’ve moved far, far away,
away from the screeches and the
loud, obnoxious lies. Kind she
was, but she was never good at
singing, or dancing, for that
Should we open the door?

The doorbell keeps ringing.

Should we open the door?

We’re coming, we’re coming.

We open the door, and

we look out.

There’s no one there.

At Twilight

I remember one evening when I
saw two soft silhouettes dancing
from the lakes, with moonlight
gazing upon them. Jokes and
puns and rumors adorned them
gracefully, like
upon the feasts I usually served to
spoiled children. They danced and
sang and did their whimsical

Then they looked at me.

And I
never saw them

The Evergreen Tree

I first saw you crying in the woods,
clinging to that evergreen tree.
Your tears fell, but reluctantly you stood,
and gazed around so fearfully.
I step out and I look at you.
You saw me hiding my curiosity.
I did not know what I should do,
yet you beckoned me towards that evergreen tree.

I stumble shyly upon my words,
as we sat beneath that evergreen tree.
You came from a realm of ladies and lords,
but you whispered to me your happy stories.
Knights and dragons and maidens afar,
and castles and dungeons, all lost in time;
I started to dream, my ballads unmarred,
and we spin our tales, caressing the rhymes.

Poems and limericks touch our tiny lips,
as we lay beneath the evergreen tree.
We see the silhouette of a far off ship,
gliding within that moonlit sea.
“The lost boys and Wendy and Peter Pan,”
I say with a smile, with an impish face.
I then tell you of that distant land,
and we laugh at them all, at their never changing ways.

My dreams capture your delicate mind,
as we talk beneath the evergreen tree.
Secrets and rumors beyond the starlight,
and withering blossoms all behind dying leaves.
I tell you of a magical place,
far removed from humanity’s eyes.
I speak of a kingdom filled with wonder and hate,
of the Fairy Courts, of that tainted light.

You danced to my wonderful tunes.
You danced beneath that evergreen tree.
You watched the shining, isolated moon,
as I looked onwards, while humming wistfully.
In my hands I carried your fate,
my golden candlelights surrounding your frame.
But I see you changing as of late.
Still I ignore it, and swallow my shame.

The days go on with our hopeless songs.
We sang beneath the evergreen tree.
Lullabies and melodies, the days sweet and long,
we murmured our promises, our voices lovely.
Yet sadness crossed your innocent face.
You were brimming with remorseful grace.
I take your hand and I lead you away.
“Forever with me, forever you will stay.”

How I wish it’d be just you and me,
playing beneath that evergreen tree.
Running wildly and happily,
with our childish illusions all surrounded with glee.
But time went on and you wanted to be free.
“Close your eyes,” I say sadly.
“We’ll dance away the sorrow quietly,
underneath our evergreen tree.”

In the Meadows

We’d always come
to the meadows,
once upon a
Sometimes, it’d be just the two
of us, with a cup of tea between our
silhouettes, and cute little sugar
cubes on a silver plate.
We’d sing
and dance
and laugh the day
Awake, we kept dreaming
of cakes we should eat, filled with
frosting and sprinkles and happy,
colorful stars on top.
We’d play
and sleep
and steal sunlight
Holding your hand in mine, I put
a tiny ring upon your delicate finger

A tiny pink ring, that illuminated
your pretty face, pretty eyes, hair
that glows; leaves and vines wrap
around your hands. You look at my
ring, and smile, and say it’s beautiful.
And I smile back
because I knew
you were lying.
You disappeared,
once upon a
Vanished amongst the promises you’ve
made, and the kisses you’ve
stolen, and the laughter you’ve
given, with the kindness you’ve
Falling asleep
in my arms
with that ring
still on
Smiling, in our sleepy
meadow, pleasant flowers
blossoming around you,
endearing silence coveting
your name, I sit with my
arms around you, caressing
the songs you’ve danced, the
laughter you’ve held, the pranks
you’ve played, the warmth you’ve
stolen, the lies you’ve
I sit with my arms around you, my
beloved. My eyes close, though I
still see you holding my ring, the ring I
loathe, love, like dislike, crush, cradle.
And I too
fall asleep
our meadows
of once upon a time.

The Wanderer

With your cheek against
covers of lonely, ethereal
clouds, the shimmering
lines of your silhouette
within gentle caresses of
I see you there,
without misfortune.
Entwined in your restless
wishes, your fairytales
embrace golden light, from
the promises you’ve once
written – the sailing of ships,
fields of fairies, kindness
of ignorance, and melodies
within lullabies- you compose
I see you there,
away from harm.
I’ve seen you cry, but you
endeavor to hide it. No, you
simply fall asleep in your
clouds, with stars and moons
singing your endless slumber.
And then you dream with
your blessings, yours and my
own, traveling blissfully to worlds
unknown, dancing along heaven’s
sweet meadows, while walking
along spring’s lovely breeze,
with silver and pearls at your

I see you there,

dancing quietly,

raised by sweet words,
in a garden of light,
with prayers to caress

I only sit,
and watch,
as you smile at

before vanishing

to your world

of dreams.


We watch the moons sleep, the
slightest touch of our fingers
brushing against each other, the
silence drifting on without
another care in the lonely
forests. I see the reflections
across your wonder-filled
face, your red cheeks along
the caresses of winter’s frosty
twilight. I reach for your hand,
and hold it against my chest,
your precious pulse still
lingering in

The Court Jester



with you by
my side.

Within the elegance of mirrors and
reflections only the graceless could
see. Skirts and suites and smiles and
masks, many, many masks, with finery
of the aristocrats, the lovelessness of
the gentry.


with you as

my guide.

Ballroom floors are marred by
glistening fans and jewels, adorning
elites and children, the adults joking
and the innocent conversing seriously,
with their hands carefully crafting the
facade only dreams
can bring.

your light-hearted sighs

while writing

our simple end.

Shadows of the Willows

Where are you?

Are you here, hidden away behind
the blossoms? Are the petals kissing
you now? Are the vines sheltering
you from the world and every cruelty
in it? Are the branches giving way to
your loveliness, burdened by a light
heart, a heavy soul? Are the sun’s rays
adorning you, never giving your eyelids
blessed shadows? Will I find you,
amongst the willows?

No, I do not.

I see you sitting right here
next to me,
your cheek on my shoulder.

The silver pocket watch

You always stare at that silver
pocket watch. May I ask why? If I
do, will you tell me the stories behind
it? Are there memories tucked away
inside, memories as precious as the
time you’ve spent with

“No,” you say.
You hold onto it
but you know not why.

Did you find it somewhere, beneath
piles of sorrow and loneliness? Did
you seek it out through heaps of
laughter and joy, with the folly still
entwined in your eyes?

“No,” you say.
You hold onto it
but you know not why.

Do you carry past regrets inside
the hidden locks, the glassy surface
caressing the tears you’ve kept, the
promises you’ve forgotten? Do you
see yourself chasing darkness
nearby, while pleading wholeheartedly
for days of

“No,” you say.
You hold onto it
but you know not why.

Does it remind you of the moments
I’ve stolen from you, the pain you
once cherished?

Do you wish you could
hold those feelings again,
discover a magic not even I
can understand?

Do you wish to go back to when
we were strangers, to see the
things I’ve blinded you to? To grow
old and be happy, trampling upon
storms of reality, casting away
sweet worlds I’ve forced upon
you, childish wishes you’ve
never had

“No,” you say.
You hold onto it,
but you know not why.

You know not why.

So why then?

Why are you



Before you come away
from the day’s soft rays,
sing with me by candlelight
for your dreams, through the night.

Pray for stars to caress your tears,
and the moon to erase your fears,
of the monsters hiding in your heart,
the quiet from the morning lark.

Whisper to me your childish tales
of fairy dances and ships that forever sail,
of happy endings and fond farewells,
while we listen to the evening bells.

Sing to me your nostalgic memories,
of when you slept on happily,
of when you were but a small babe,
indulging in the sweets you once craved.

Let me see through your eternal dreams,
of times I carried you through the seams,
when I adorned you in benevolence,
and peaceful silence.

And as I watch you,
the light upon the fading moon,
I take your cold hand,

and cry.

Immature Sanctity

Streams of velvet reflections flow
along withered flowers and leaves.
The crisp, cool waters only he could know
carries scarlet away from simple dreams.

Subtle scents of trees from twilight
reached for fragile charity.
The humble seeds sang for night,
as they prayed his gentle mercies.

Soft, verdant grass embraced the hills
with wistful buds of innocence.
They all danced for winds that still
loved his dying breaths of benevolence.

Crimson skies amongst golden clouds
carefully shrouded the autumn light.
Evening rays the heavens allowed
for his weary, glassy eyes.

That tiny boy lay within angelic memories
with nostalgia upon his decadent frame.

Yet he smiled,

In the midst of loveless shame,
his childish elegance embracing eternity.

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