This poem is a conclave of elves
This poem is a fairy tale,
told to a small child by her grandmother
This poem is a cup of my Grandma's tea
This poem is chock full of elves
clustered under a speckled toadstool in the forest.
They are hiding from a small girl-child,
peeping out from under the toadstool's rim
with eyes that winkle and shine.
This poem is a conclave of elves.
This poem is a small girl sitting in front of the fire
listening to stories, on long, quiet winter afternoons.
"Watch the blue fairies, dancing in the flames,"
her grandma says, and she looks,
and sees the fairies.
This story has no beginning, and no end.
This poem is a song sung by druids
in the springs and groves of a woodland dell,
as violet shadows lengthen at close of day.
This poem has standing stones in it, and ghosts,
myth and blarney from County Cork,
laced with a spoon of golden honey
in a shamrock teacup of amber verbena,
a cup of my grandmother's tea.
This poem is a conclave of elves,
winkling and shining in stories of long ago.
This poem is a fairy tale told to a small child
by a Grandmother who knew
small children need mothering.
This poem is a cup of my Grandma's tea,
in a time whose memory shines more brightly than today
* Celtic and Welsh meanings for the word druid are seers, and sorcerers. Poets may be numbered among this group. Smiles. They played an important part in ancient pagan Celtic society according to Wikipedia.
This poem, written in 2015, is (mostly) patterned after Hannah Gosselin's wonderful Boomerang Poem form, introduced at Real Toads in 2014. One of my favourite forms. Sharing it with my friends at Poets United, in the Poetry Pantry, great reading every Sunday morning.
Love this Sherry!! I am hoping that your holidays are peaceful and joyous!
ReplyDeleteMy grandmother too, told folk stories and made lovely tea. We are blessed Sherry!
ReplyDeleteThis is a beautful poem, Sherry. Filled with such a lot of warmth. I can tell you and your grandmother had a wonderful relationship. I like the form as well!
ReplyDeleteAh, I remember watching those blue fairies in the flames, too, and listening to my Nana's stories while she cuddled me on her knee.
ReplyDeleteA magical poem, Sherry! Fairy tales and tea on a Sunday morning, it can’t get any better!
ReplyDeleteHow I love this magical and beautifully concocted poem! I can taste that tea and gaze into the dancing flames and see all these images.
ReplyDeleteThe style of poem is very very old - bardic in the manner of the Song of Amerigin, where the poet identifies self and vision with a plethora of sightings. As if to say I am Thou art the world ... a fey world, then, here, a shire of fancy and memory and a grandmother's brogue. Amen. Our distant relatives in County Cork might be neighbors still (mine sailed from Cork Harbor in the Sea Sprite in 1778). Loved it ...
ReplyDeleteThis is incredibly gorgeous, Sherry!❤️ I love "This poem is a song sung by druids in the springs and groves of a woodland dell, as violet shadows lengthen at close of day."❤️
ReplyDeleteOh this is so beautifully rendered... the scene comes alive and poem just holds the image together all the way!
ReplyDeleteThat sounds like such a warm relationship between child and grandparent. The form suits the topic so beautifully.
ReplyDeleteThis poem is a cup of pleasure!
ReplyDeleteThis is a great spring poem! It inspires me to go sit on the porch and watch the bees in the clover...when the rain clears out. :)
ReplyDeleteNever really knew my grandparents.
ReplyDeleteI love this... a poem for the fantasy of child and poet... to be in awe of the mind is so great.
ReplyDeleteLove the form and magical sentiments in this Sherry. The relationship of a child with a grandmother is a wonderful and blessed thing.
ReplyDeleteEnchanting, as it was meant to be!
ReplyDeleteDell: a secluded hollow or small valley usually covered with trees or turf. I like!
ReplyDeleteWhat a lovely enchanted poem!
ReplyDeleteThe Boomerang Metaphor is a form i encounted at Real Toads and i like very much. You have used it here in a wonderful delightful tale spin.
ReplyDeleteHappy Sunday Sherry. Thank you for dropping by my sumie Sunday today
Much🌻love
Love it! A wonderful construct to this enchanting piece. It brought to mind a poem (a little experiment) I did years ago where I sought out and used the Irish Gaelic words for family members, and such. I remember I had a blast doing it though, in the end, I managed to - pretty much - obscure the meaning ~ ha ~ It sounded lovely, though (such a mesmerizing language).
ReplyDeleteMy grandmother made sweet tea to be iced but she made me wonderful cups of coffee - a cup of milk with a teaspoon of coffee and sugar added to it. It is still one of my favorite treats. Grand mothers can be so magical! I loved this poem although I don't understand the form very well.
ReplyDeleteNothing beats a cup of tea made in Grandma's teapot.
ReplyDelete"...and she looks, / and sees the fairies." I wish to get back these innocent days too.
ReplyDeleteWhat a beautiful poem Sherry, a delight to read.
ReplyDelete