A Poem that I even hate myself.

I don't feel like writing with Tanith today, she's still asleep and frankly I can't be bothered trying to wake up a fictional character.

So I think a poem may be in order, I'll apologise in advance for it.

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The Faerie Market.

Take your woeful Faerie-blues to market, quick,
If they're stagnant they won't sell at all.
Gather them up in your pockets,
and sit, cross-legged amongst the stalls.

Lay out your wicked Faerie-blues,
they'll need no tag or price.
For no folk will bargain for your blues,
they have their own Faerie-strife.

Wear your patience as a shield,
while your Faeries struggle and scream.
Wait for Nanna Grimm,
To pluck you from your Faerie-dream.

Blindfold your eyes; lest you see her so,
the breeze of memory brushes your face.
With thin fingers she silenced your Faeries,
then, left nothing, not a trace.

The market is gone, like Nanna Grimm,
simply no longer there.
And you are numb without the Faerie-woes,
you so willingly gave her to snare.

From your woeless shell comes and anguished cry,
and Lo, Nanna Grimm appear!
Your Faeries struggle in her grasp,
your Faeries are grey with fear.

But without fear by your side,
the world is icy calm.
You turn your eyes to Nanna Grimm,
you grasp her by the arm.

Nanna Grimm looks down on you,
but without your fear, you cannot quail.
Wordlessly, you open your palm,
with a nod, She returns your Faeries-Frail.

As Nanna Grim begins to fade,
you embrace your dear Faerie-blues.
Never again to be tricked as you have,
Nanna Grimm is now wary of you.

With your woes riding light on your shoulders,
you head from the empty square.
Your blues as they have ever been,
held in check by your Faeries-Fair.

© Leah Petts, 30th March ‘08
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that was quite an outpouring! (drivel more like)
I'm terribly sorry to anyone who gives a damn, but I'm morally obligated to wrap up this post.
You see, I've let my coffee go cold... (Nnnnnooooooooooooooo!)

Enjoy your day Houston,
this is Little Miss Scribble, signing off!