Words that flow...

Words and images - powerful elements of our everyday life. Most of the time we take them for granted, but sometimes something happens to make you aware of how important they are... and how thankful you are to have the opportunity to use or appreciate them. Here lies some of my words and pictures (which are untouched apart from cropping, unless I've said otherwise) - Please add your words to mine, and leave a comment. Thanks for visiting!

16 October 2006

Dawn Birth

(Another from Pashley Manor, East Sussex)

It's late, but having just ousted my lovely teenage son from this seat, I feel I have to make the most of it (besides, the seat's still warm, and the house has a definate chill to it that wasn't there a week ago! :-) ) Sleep is calling, but I just found a poem that has been hidden away in my writing bag for some time, and could do with an airing. I like it - it was written for a children's book (to follow the first one, not yet sent off for publishing! :-D ) , but there's a few adults who said it evoked a memory of belief in magic that has been buried under the layers we swamp ourselves in...

Dawn Birth

Fairy wings flutter to the ground,
with barely a whisper of sound,
as dew-drops twinkle, wet and round,
at the bottom of my garden.

Tiny feet land on a grassy tip,
making a hanging droplet drip
softly into a red tulip
at the bottom of my garden.

The air falls still. They crane to see
something that happens so rarely.
There's a birth of a new fairy
at the bottom of my garden.

Sweet scents drift in the morning air;
Swirls of fairy dust are everywhere,
glittering and winking down there
at the bottom of my garden.

The red tulip begins to glow,
throwing into the sky a halo,
all the colours of a rainbow,
from the bottom of my garden.

Like a whirlwind the rainbow spins
drawing in the scents of the jasmines,
and the morning songs of robins
from the bottom of my garden.

Round and round, faster and faster,
surrounded by tinkling laughter,
magic is woven by the spellmaster
at the bottom of my garden.

Then, rings of fairies joining hands
rise and spread out like chinese fans,
like sparkles made into garlands
at the bottom of my garden.

There! There is the fountain of light!
And there, where it is the most bright,
is where there lies the newborn sprite
at the bottom of my garden.

Now, in the still of the morning
a ray of light from the dawning
sun falls on the creature forming
at the bottom of my garden.

At last, the fairies move away,
to let the infant greet the day
and try her wings without delay
around the whole of my garden.

© Annelisa Christensen 12:03 am

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At October 22, 2006 5:38 am, Blogger Kilroy_60 said...


At January 07, 2007 2:14 am, Blogger Mystic Rose said...

this is so enchantingly magical. what gifted imagination!!

At January 07, 2007 11:36 am, Blogger Annelisa said...

Thanks, Kilroy - this poem has a special place for me, as I wrote it for my eldest daughter when she was crazy about fairies...

At January 07, 2007 11:37 am, Blogger Annelisa said...

Mystic Rose - thanks sweetie! It means a lot to me you like it!


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