Four Poems by Lynn White

 

Once There Were Fairies

 

Once there were fairies

living 

at the bottom of my garden. 

I used to see them there every day

watch them living their fairy lives.

 

Then they left,

moved to the woods.

I used to see them there

living

when I went to pick mushrooms.

 

They’ve gone from there now,

disappeared.

 

Now there are only mushrooms.

I think they’re poisonous.

 

Fairies

 

I used to see them often

collecting

armfuls of meadow sweet

to stuff their night time mattresses,

making doorways 

in their new

toadstool homes with sharp stones.

 

I used to see them often

sitting

under their fungal roofs 

stitching 

their summer dresses

of poppy and mallow petals

with long silk threads 

catching 

the summer sunlight

as the smiling spiders spun.

 

I used to see them often,

but not anymore.

 

Maybe they only come out at night now

and stitch and stuff under the moonlight.

 

I only know that

I miss them so.

 

 

Magic

 

Now is the season of magic,

from the witches of Halloween

to the fairies and elves of

Father Christmas.

Only for children, 

though.

Magic for adults has Pagan qualities

referencing the myths and legends 

that made sense of earlier times,

though 

some still invite their ancestors

to picnic with them on the Day Of The Dead.

Only for children,

though 

are the fairy stories and fantasies

of yesterday and today.

But children know

that these are only the building blocks

of magic.

Yes, children know

that magic is something you make.

Sometimes adults forget.

 

 

 

Never Never Land

 

My sister has gone to Never Never Land

It’s where all the lost children go,

those who don’t find their way home

and those who fade away and die

like the wild flowers I pick for the house.

My mother says 

they stay children for ever

and can play all day long.

My sister was allowed to take her trike with her

even though it was all smashed up.

My mother says

the magic people there will fix it.

It sounds like fun there

but my mother says

she will never let me go,

not even if I find a magic carpet

to carry me up into the sky.

Perhaps she thinks I’m getting too old to go there.

She says that the children there will grow wings 

and become angels,

I think angels are a bit like fairies,

and when my sister gets her wings

she will fly back home

so we can be together again.

My mother says, no, never,

but I don’t know.

 

First publish in Ekphrastic Review, Henry Darger Writing Challenge, September 2019

Lynn White lives in north Wales. Her work is influenced by issues of social justice and events, places and people she has known or imagined. She is especially interested in exploring the boundaries of dream, fantasy and reality. She has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize, Best of the Net and a Rhysling Award. Her poetry has appeared in many publications including: Consequence Journal, Firewords, Capsule Stories, Gyroscope Review, Blue Pepper, Arachne Press and So It Goes. 

 https://lynnwhitepoetry.blogspot.com and https://www.facebook.com/Lynn-White-Poetry-1603675983213077/