Sentinels standing, monoliths at dusk,
In fields turned to plough,
Where once was forest dark.
Ships and man, now mostly gone,
The oft heard call of bird in song.
Peace abounds the tree this night,
As now perceived by human sight.
Yet beyond the other side of here,
A faerie realm is drawn so near!
To be viewed with wonder through faerie gaze,
Lies a forest filled, an Oakland glade.
Here resides “Diana of Fay”,
Her reality unscathed by human ways.
Within the solitary oak we see,
Diana dwells, at one, at peace.
Drawing on strength from roots deep in ground,
An expression of courage so rarely found.
Her countenance is that of a summer’s day,
Her heart, eager as a spring filled May.
Wings are of Autumn burnished gold,
Her complexion of a frost kissed, winter rose.
Should you chance upon so beautiful a Fay,
Whilst out in fields, wandering some day,
Know in your heart the vision laid forth,
Is naught but a glimpse, a faerie’s thought.

Poem and image courtesy Enchanted. Please visit their site for beautiful bronze faery statuary and ornaments.

I see her on her walkabouts
Gathering flowers by the pond
To braid them in her long black hair
And bind them to her wand

Tatty Hex is a Wild Woman
They say she conjures storms
Takes her wand of hawthorn wood
To take on many forms

I only ever heard her once
Speak words of anger to a man
He lives at the edge of her garden now,
In a plastic watering can

Woe betide he who angers Tatty
She can make you forget your home
One flick of her hawthorn wand, you see,
To become a garden gnome

She used to burn sandalwood
To keep out goblins and ghouls
Now she plants rosemary
To keep away lovesick fools

Tatty Hex is a Wild Woman
She dances under the moon
She built a pool in her back garden
Her own midnight blue lagoon

They often say that Tatty Hex
Was born of faerie blood
They say she talks to trees and flowers
Makes oceans sing and flood

Tatty Hex, the Wild Woman,
Who braids flowers in her hair
Walks lightly over sand dunes
And casts magic in the air.

Kate Summers © 2010

Kate Summers’ enchanting poetry can now be found in e-book form. Secrets of the Faerie Realm is available to download from Amazon.

Alice and Phoebe Cary

And it might be the wild thyme round him
That shone in the dark strange ring;
But his brushes were bees’ antennae,
His knife was a wasp’s blue sting;
And his gorgeous exquisite palette
Was a butterfly’s fan-shaped wing.

And he mingled its powdery colours,
And painted the lights that pass,
On a delicate cobweb canvas
That gleamed like a magic glass,
And bloomed like a banner of elf-land,
Between two stalks of grass;

Till it shone like an angel’s feather
With sky-born opal and rose,
And gold from the foot of the rainbow,
And colours that no man knows;
And I laughed in the sweet May weather,
Because of the themes he chose.

For he painted the things that matter,
The tints that we all pass by,
Like the little blue wreaths of incense
That the wild thyme breathes to the sky;
Or the first white bud of the hawthorn,
And the light in a blackbird’s eye;

And the shadows on soft white cloud-peaks
That carolling skylarks throw,–
Dark dots on the slumbering splendours
That under the wild wings flow,
Wee shadows like violets trembling
On the unseen breasts of snow;

With petals too lovely for colour
That shake to the rapturous wings,
And grow as the bird draws near them,
And die as he mounts and sings,–
Ah, only those exquisite brushes
Could paint these marvellous things.

By Alfred Noyes (1880-1958)

Andrew Lang (1844 – 1912)

Inspired by Robert Kirk, author of The Secret Commonwealth of Elves Fauns and Fairies.

By Mark Shapiro

They scatter the armies of the foe,
They ravage every land,
Splendidly they march into battle,
Impetuous, glamourous, avenging host!

No wonder their strength be great:
Sons of Kings and Queens are one and all.
On all their heads are set
Beautiful manes of yellow-gold.

Their bodies comely, smooth,
Their eyes bright, blue-starred,
Pure crystal their teeth,
Thin their red lips.

Good they are at man-slaying.

Irish, 15th Century

Oh what is that in the Hollow?
Oh my, It looks like a Fellow!
There is moss on his teeth,
And vines underneath,
And his skin is a terrible yellow.

By the twilight the forest is scary!
So we followed the track from the dairy.
Then we saw him below,
by the pale moon’s glow,
He was maybe done in by a Faerie?

(A slightly irreverent poem written by Doktor A, inspired by my favourite ever painting, Oh What is That in the Hollow by Edward Robert Hughes…)

by Root Deity Poems