Monday, November 26, 2007

Poetry Train Monday - 27 - The Fairy Glen

Here's a real trip down memory lane. Believe it or not, I wrote this when I was 13. Obviously, I was channeling my inner Victorian poet.

The Fairy Glen

As I was walking down the lane,
Streams of sunlight rare

Because the trees had formed a veil,
Shadowing the country trail,
My head empty of care,
My heart empty of pain,

I chanced to find among the grass
An old an tarnished ring.
I rubbed it clean and saw inscribed
Something written by one which'd imbibed
Too much of an intoxicating thing.
It didn't make sense to me; alas!

However, as I stood beneath
The ancient limbs of a giant oak,
There happened to me a curious thing.
I spoke the words on the little ring,
Its meaning quite clear as soon as I spoke.
Magic hung over me like a wreath,

Colors of red and purple and green
Twining around me in an eerie dance.
The tingling of bells greeted my ears,
Calming my wild and anxious fears.
I opened my eyes; in a single glance
I beheld a thing I'd ne'er before seen.

Brownies and fairies, pixies, too,
Stood in a ring around me, so;
Bewildered, I stared, my thoughts awhirl -
How could this happen to an ordin'ry girl?
I guess my thoughts my face did show -
A pixie, clad in shades of blue

Stepped forward, grinning from ear to ear.
Stretching out a friendly hand,
He welcomed me to the circle, thus;
Everyone made a royal fuss
As if I were something really grand.
I looked at the ring that had brought me here.

It shone with golden beauty bright.
Transfixed, I held it in my palm,
My eyes, from it, I could not tear.
A voice spoke from I knew not where.
It said, its tone so soft and calm,
"Home do you wish to return tonight?

Or would you rather stay among
Us fairy folk in this magic glen?"
I asked, "I cannot return again?
Can't I go home and visit when
I wish to?" The pixie shook his head. "Then
It's home to stay that I do long."

The blue-clad pixie nodded slow,
His eyes understanding.
When night encased the fairy glen,
Closing day's petals upon the stem,
The pixies and fairies and brownies standing,
Uneven, row by row,

I took a last look and said my goodbyes,
Feeling my tears well up.
Through a misty haze which blurred everything,
I read the words on the magic ring.
Then I was doused in the color cup,
The tingling of bells and the small fireflies,

Made of the sparks that swirled to and fro,
Taking me from the fairy-ring there.
The colors disappeared, and in their place
The lane uncovered its friendly face.
If it weren't for the ring which I did wear,
That the fairies were real I couldn't know.

The ring again dirty, the sun still a-shine,
I didn't know even if I were real.
Home I went and found time had not passed.
Had I dreamt the bit of the fairy blast?
I only knew what was mine to feel:
My adventure, if true, had been one divine.

Copyright 1978 Julia Smith


Jill said...

That is an impresive poem for a 13 years old to write!!
As a child, it is so hard to define what's real and what is not!! And this poem translate that very well!

Ann said...

Awesome poem, doubly so since you were so young when you wrote it.

Camille Alexa said...

That's totally amazing (and very cool) you kept stuff from so long ago.

OldLady Of The Hills said...

My Lordy..That is an amazing poem for such a young person!
I hope everyone who read it at that time were truly impressed with your talent! If noy, they couldn't have really understood how difficult writing a GOOD poem, can be!

Y said...

wow! awesome to think you wrote this at such a young age. i love the imagination, i would have loved this if i was 13 years old too. great addition to the train *wink*

Anonymous said...

For a child, dreams and fantasies are important. You captured that very well here. It is very real.

Roscoe James said...

A nice rambling feel.

Anonymous said...

You were 13 when you wrote this??? Amazing!

You really do paint the prettiest pictures with words, Julia. Thank you for sharing with us. :-)

Rhian said...

wow. am i blown away.
i agree with Camille - i think it's awesome that you kept stuff from when you were 13. I wish I had.

Julia Phillips Smith said...

Camille and Rhian - I had a notebook with really early poems - as in from elementary school - that I kept and which is now misplaced. I hope I bump into it at some point.

Karina said...

Wow, 13? Very impressive! This was such a fun and whimsical poem!

Susan Helene Gottfried said...

Yeah, what everyone else has said about your age.

I sense that you, like me, read a lot of fantasy when you were younger. Great, great genre, isn't it? I loved that the impossible always seemed to happen -- and to be so plausible.

Julia Phillips Smith said...

Susan, not only did I read a lot of fantasy, but I lived in a fantasy world. I had pretend ghost friends that lived under my picnic table, and a stable of pretend horses I would go outside and groom! I can tell by the form of this poem that we must have studied one in school with that exact rhyming scheme. Just had to see if I could do it, too.

Anonymous said...

Wow! That's a great little story disguised as a poem! I too have poems I wrote as a teenager; unfortunately, they are packed away and in storage right now.

Red Garnier said...

oh WOW! Julia, at 13?? You're a natural, baby! ;)

Unknown said...

Wow...I'm impressed at how well you were writing at such a young age. Man, my poems suck.

*goes to her room to sulk*

Anonymous said...

Wow, that's pretty impressive, Julia! Love the pixie bit!

Amy Ruttan said...

13 year old eh? 1978, guess who was a newborn. ME! LOL!!!

Beautiful poem, wonderful.