Magpie Tales- Hidden in the Forest

Hidden in the forest in a faraway place,
Where the Hare and the Tortoise never did race,
Where the trees grow close together with age,
There is a magic from a children's book page.

There's a fairy house by a big old oak tree,
And if you come close you're able to see,
In through the window covered with dust,
Past the old frame dried in with rust.

Inside there's a woman all wrapped up in cloaks,
Sitting next to a bright burning fire she stokes,
And if you bring two pennies and a fine looking snail,
There's a chance she might just tell you a special tale.

Long ago in an age of dragons,
When witches roamed the land with their red wooden wagons,
There once was a girl with the song of a bird,
A tune so heavenly 'twas a thing must be heard.

Her name was Sun, like the star of the day,
She lived in a woods far far away,
She lived with her mother, father and dog,
One hen, one horse and an odd looking frog.

The villagers loved Sun and her voice,
Every time she would sing, the land would rejoice,
And the sparrows would fly close to the ground,
Just to hear this unearthly sound.

But one day while out playing with her horse and pail,
Singing her song to each worm and each snail,
Sun was caught by a frightful beast,
And taken away for his afternoon feast.

He was twice as tall as a normal man,
And could lift twice as much as a normal man can,
He'd sharp razor teeth for cutting through skin,
And his breathe wreaked of blood and sin.

He sat little Sun up on his table,
Tied her up with a cord and cable,
Then he asked the girl, "Now what have I found,
The little girl with that heavenly sound?"

Little Sun could only cry and nod,
But the beast didn't seem to find that very odd,
He simply said, "Now listen here,
I'll let you go if you can please my ear."

Sun thought for a moment, then opened her lips,
And let out a note that made the beast sway his hips,
But he shook his head, "That won't do at all,
That single note is far too small."

So Sun sang another, and another again,
She sang a song that rang out times ten,
But the beast was unsatisfied with her song,
He shook his head, he must have got the girl wrong.

But Sun raised her voice till her lungs almost popped,
She sang so loud that the bird's had stopped,
She sang so high that she brought a tornado,
She sang so hard she blew up a volcano.

The beast cried out, ears covered with his paws,
"Please left it stop," lashes out with his claws,
But with a little pop, the beast disappeared,
And the havoc created by her song cleared.

Sun was saved by her family and friends,
And lived happily to the end of the ends,
Where the beast, well nobody knows,
Some say they can hear his scream when the wind blows.

And then that little old lady will sigh,
As you try to work out whats fact and whats lie,
She'll hum a tune that's familiar but new,
And she'll smile a knowing smile as she looks back at you.

Soliloquy

Love him? Do I love him? How can he stand there infront of me, look me in the eye, and even feel a shadow of a doubt. Can he not hear my heart pound a million times a minute, hammering its longing against my ribs so hard it hurts to touch my chest? Can he not see my blood rise in my face when he smiles at me, the way my cheeks flush like a new born rose? Surely my facade is not strong enough to hide the feelings that must glimmer behind, the longing that fills me, hurts me, rips at me when i watch him walk away.
How can he ask that, staring with those grey eyes that waver like the sea on the shore before a storm? How can he not understand the goosebumps that run up my arm at the fiery touch of his fingertips?
Listen! Listen to how my heart begs for you deep inside me! You foolish boy, so innocent to what you do not understand, listen to how my body pleads for your touch, for the smell of your skin, for the glance of your eye upon mine. As I cry for you in my sleep, long for you in my wake, hum to the sound of your beating heart when all other sound has faded away, how can you doubt me?
And yet look at you, so broken, so cold. How can you believe for one second I would hurt you like this? How can you bare to think that I, a fool to your words, would dare to stab you in such a way? You can't even see that plea of my eyes for your belief in me, so dead are you in my presence now. And how much I would give for you to see that I can't live without you. That I couldn't break you like this.
I couldn't hurt you, my love. I couldn't. Not even with the anger in your face, the hatred flaring across your perfect lips, I could not burn you. Not if you broke me the way that I have broken you, never could I turn my fist to your cheek.
If that is not love, then I know only hate. For if love is the greatest pain, then it is because we don't know the pain of hate.

Soccer vs. Girls

As deminstrated by my newest poem, Penalty Kick, I have a new found love of soccer.Some may look at that, mostly men, and think "Finally a girl who knows her priorities." But i must admit, this new found love affair has come from hours and hours of having to sit through my brother's favorite game. He supports the rather poor Portsmouth in the Champions League. Well, they were in the champions league. I'm pretty sure they were religated from that this year though.
Anyway, after watching all this, picking up on the rules and everything, along came the World Cup 2010. And I fell for it. I swear to God, I knew who was playing everyday and at what time. I knew atleast one player on every team. I knew that Messi played for Argentina, Kevin Prince Boewtange played for Ghana, Kaka played for Brazil (insidentily, did you know Kaka isn't even his real name?)
For the last two weeks of football, I was on holidays in Italy (who failed to even get out of the group stages of the World Cup). Almost every day we were listening/watching the games, cheering on Usa, then Argentina, then Brazil, and finally Holland before Spain took its trophey. For the finals, we were in the process of returning to Ireland, sitting on a bus, our phones out, checking every half a minute to see if anyone had scored.
I really got into the whole thing. We girls are famed for hating the sport, hating the constant flow of games on TV that our husbands/brothers/sons have to watch. But as for me, I'm loving it. I'd like nothing more then an Argentina jersey with Messi written on the back for my birthday. Or maybe an irish rugby jersy. Hmmmmmm.... I'll have to think on that one.

Penalty kick

You're the final man,
The last one who can,
With the ball right at your feet.

The pressure is on,
You try to stay strong,
As millions of eyes watch you sigh.

One step, two step, three step back,
Don't think of the talent that you lack,
Just the goals gaping mouth ahead.

The goalie glares out,
There's not a chant or a shout,
As you take your final breath.

Now your running, forward
forward, toward,
the innocent ball in the grass.

Swing your leg back and scream,
For country, for team,
And let your warrior cry be heard.

And its flying away,
Could today be the day?
There's sweat streaks down your back.

A perfect spin,
So good its a sin,
And you just can't watch anymore.

There's a swish and a roar,
And you know its a score,
As the crowd gets to its feet.

They're running to you,
In thier faces its true.


You've won.

We love you Lionel Messi!!!

Magpie- Wateringcan

Wateringcan,
Alone on the bench,
Too long have you sat,
Evaporating away.
Rust eats your sides,
Iron oxide your coat,
Notice your friends,
Grown in by your children,
Clothed with your plants,
Around you they blossom,
Now you watch them grow.

Three Word Wednesday- Drink, Feeble, Predict

The lights in the bar flickered over my head, flashing and whirring like fire flies who've lost thier spark. It wasn't much of a bar, a couple feeble looking stools here, an empty beer bottle smashed on the floor over there. The place stank of depression, even the drunks hanging thier heads low over the tables were less boisterious then usual, prefering to hug thier pints close to thier chests tonight rather then swing heavy blows at eachothers' noses.
The barmaid approached me, her blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail and lipstick smeared across her thin pouty lips. She looked like she'd been here since six a.m this morning serving the same bumbs along the counter. I could see something dieing in her eyes even as she picked up my glass to refill it.
I knew her story back to front. It wasn't hard to predict her type, sad as thier story was. She must have been about seventeen, her parents divorced, or a runaway father, leaving her and atleast one sibling to nurse thier raging alcholic mother by themselves. She'd never had a proper education, not with having to come home halfway through each day to rescue her mother from the clutches of the drug dealers. Her brother or sister was still young, maybe ten or eleven, looking on her to keep them safe, to guide them. So young, and still she had the resposibilities her mother had dumped on her.
She spent day after day in the bar, serving horrible old men who geered at her, and returned every night to her mother's pills, whiskey and cursing. Every night she would hear that she was nothing, a slut and a bitch, worth less then the sad dog they barely kept alive on the scraps of food they could offer it.
She looked up from pouring the drink, her eyes meeting mine. I must not have looked like much either, lanky brown hair and grey eyes. But in that moment, I felt I had to protect her. In her eyes, I saw her plea with me, whisper something lower then words. She was asking for me to save her. Me, like I was any better off then her. Like I could be a hero.
I lowered my eyes. Shuffling to my feet, slamming down a fiver on the counter. I made towards the door, forgetting my drink that she was pouring out for me.
I turned one last time as i reached the peeling red painted exit. She was still watching me, but the lightbulb in the socket above her had gone out.

Carry on Tuesday- The Road

Does this road wind uphill all the way,
To the gates at the end of the line?
Does this path have a tunnel for me to follow,
To the clouds where tonight I will dine?
Does this track lead to the final bright light,
Will it take me to Himself , I implore?
Does this road wind uphill all the way,
And if so, is there a backdoor?

Lies

The words that we speak dont have to be true,
Each rhyme that we sing doesn't have to be new,
It doesn't take knowledge to make us rejoice,
It's the lies that we tell in a sure enough voice.

To say that it's fine, we'll all be okay,
Those are the things that give hope its ray,
To pretend for a while that things can be turned,
Its not lies that they've taught us, but lies that we've learned.

Is it so bad for once in a while,
Turn your back to the darkness and put on a smile,
Do we have to know everything that we see,
Or can I live my life just knowing I'm me.

Ghosts

We are burning, burning,

Watch the flames lick the walls,

Feel the heat under your palms.

Darling, fall, come away from the window,

Fly with me, two ghosts flying over the grass,

We will not give him his final death kiss,

No, he dosen't even deserve that.

Darling, let us move away from his fists,

Away from his whiskey and beer,

Away from his ciggerette.

Darling, take my hand,

Let him burn with the house,

Let him crackle with the falling timber,

And noone will call us crazy,

We are not mad any more.

For now we are Angels,

May your bruises fade,

That your mind be at ease.

Who could blame your tormented mind,

For the fire in you heart burned him out,

Like his fists hit your cheek,

So your fire has broken his back.

if you enjoyed this poem, check out my others, posted on my blog. I love to get comments, they make my day, so go for it!

Shadow

We are the secrets behind your lies,
The crimes that you try to hide in your eyes,
A sin in your mind, your criminal thought,
A sickness of darkness your head had caught.

We are the faces under your skin,
We laugh when you fall, scratch you deep within,
Paranoia is a disease of your mind,
An itch which straining fingers can't find.

We are the rebel, the killer, the sinner,
Upon your concience my bitter will linger,
We are the darkness inside you, under scar,
We are the part of you heart made of tar.

I am you.

Brown

I am the worm who's under the ground,
I am the rusted down penny you found.
I am the earth and the bark of the tree,
I am the wing of the eagle you see.

I am the wood of the chair where you sit,
I am the table upon which your candle is lit.
I am the fur of your beloved dog,
I am the eye of the slippery frog.

I am the stone where the sea meets the sand,
I am the whistle you hold in your hand.
I am the scab over your knee,
I am the door to your lock and key.

I'm a secret mix of the colours you know,
And yet you still leave me out of your rainbow.

if you enjoyed this poem, please check out my other pieces posted on my blog. Comments make my day, so go nuts!

Cocoon

I am warm,

Wrapped in the shell of my own thoughts,

Spinning and weaving, colours and shades,

Windows and doors, broken and sealed.

I am home,

Tucked under my own mind,

This is my own fortress, my own stands,

This is my freedom and my prison.

I am close,

I feel the light and the shadows,

The moon and the half-light,

I can feel the rain on my window pane.

I must break free,

Its too tight, too close, too near,

I am stuck, wriggling, writhing,

I must get away.

I am through,

And i can feel the sun and the stars and the open sky.

I am free.

A Lock

A lock, rusted with time,
Who knows lies behind it what crime,
What dark hidden secret behind its shut eyes,
Behind its red teeth, what truths that it lies.

What treasures are locked fast behind its wood,
What could one have, what riches they would,
What jewels, what wealth, what knowledge left unknown,
What shadowy deeds behind it are sown.

With its black forever eye sinking into its head,
With the orange red socket for bed,
The call of unknown to the ones wished with greed,
The doubt that its mystery does seed.

If only I had its key,
Then what wonders or curses would I see?