Fairytale Poem Challenge

[CharleyH]

The story of Lilit

You won't hear words upon a time from me
no charming tales of beginnings and ends
I don't have cookies, candy or cake
I don't eat children, wasn't burned at the stake.

I am Lilit, known as screech owl and snake
and what you've heard is only one take.
This is my story. Believe it or not.
Life is but episode between mysteries.

The truth begins a long time ago
a faraway Edin that I'm sure you know.
I was once nothing, but universe
attached to myself without an escape

and with a wish, I was parted
to love, to languish, laugh and be free
but a part of myself wanted me,
wanted we, she, him and them.

I didn't return, never wanted to
until beautiful she rose from his rib.
She was gorgeous. You wouldn't believe.
I was speechless - in love with Eve.

I beckoned her to a corner of the garden
where stood the tree so often discussed,
and said, "I don't have candy, cookies or cake,
but here is my passion - will you partake?"

She paused and said, "you're Lilit, you're snake!"
I answered, "I love you, Adam forsake."
She stared in my eyes for no more a moment
before suckling moist apple with cherry wet lips.

The truth begins a long time ago:
A faraway Edin that I'm sure you know,
but what is known is not always truth.
Sometimes, truth is best told in tale.

I go on living from this time to that
to love, to languish, cry, I am free!
But the cost, I'm punished: Eve forgets me.
Forever after I'm doomed to remember:

Eve. In the garden.

 

[The_Fool]

Hair poem for chipbutty

“Rapunzel, Rapunzel,
Let down your hair to me…”

catching my eye
stealing the moment
sweetly smelling
shining bright
running fingers through
vibrant
catching the light
twisting my sorrow
twisting your locks
twists me around your finger
turning it loose
letting it fall
cascade around you
shimmering halo
enhancing the smile
that flashes in your eyes
desire for you momentarily blinds
lends to me sorrow
but your sweet kisses
offer respite and I see
what I see
all the brighter

 

[greenmountaineer]

The Moral of the Story

The city of Charn is dying, Mike.
It’s always winter, never Christmas.
Jadis petrifies Tumnus, the faun,
After she coldcocked Rumblebuffin.

But Aslan, the mighty lion, knows
The strife for those who would believe,
Ordeals that he and his must suffer,
And suffer the sons and daughters of Eve.

Mike hasn’t heard a word I said,
Except the funny names, of course,
Who first made him laugh on TV
He speaks to like his rocking horse.

On behalf of Edmund Pevensie
Who’s not much older than you are, Mike,
Aslan surrenders himself to Jadis
Because Eddie liked her Turkish Delight.

The beavers are silent; so is the faun
When Mike and I cross our Rubicon
From Digory’s wardrobe one last time
As Aslan is led to the altar stone.

“Change the channel!” your mother said
Just before the expected commercial
For something special good little boys
Have to have to be something special.

Re-joining our scheduled program in progress,
We now bear witness to resurrection;
You jump with joy on my cushion thigh,
Having forgotten the vivisection

As spring returns after one hundred years,
Although somewhere else a seed has been planted
For poison ivy that grows but in winter.

Would that you never become disenchanted.

 

[PandoraGlitters]

So many fantastic poems coming up in this challenge! I will respond to them all, but for now wanted to say YAY!!!

 

[Tzara]

So many fantastic poems coming up in this challenge! I will respond to them all, but for now wanted to say YAY!!!

Yay yourself, m'dear. It was (oops, is) a good challenge.

 

[Remec]

Steadfast

We were just another
pile to be sorted through
and formed into squads,
missions to be filled,
wars to be fought

I was last in line,
incomplete and lame,
but I held my gun
and was put on guard

And I stood watch,
never leaving my post,
while She danced,
pirouetting in her
heron-pose, a gauzy
dream that kept me
focussed on my
journeys

Through the air,
to the sidewalk,
sailing into the dark
below and suffering to
be drowned,
swallowed,
restored to my post,
for one last look
upon my dancer,
then to the fire
once more

Hell only lasted a
moment, for the Fates
united us and left me
to show the root of
everything,

My heart.
-----

 

[butters]

“Rapunzel, Rapunzel,
Let down your hair to me…”

catching my eye
stealing the moment
sweetly smelling
shining bright
running fingers through
vibrant
catching the light
twisting my sorrow
twisting your locks
twists me around your finger
turning it loose
letting it fall
cascade around you
shimmering halo
enhancing the smile
that flashes in your eyes
desire for you momentarily blinds
lends to me sorrow
but your sweet kisses
offer respite and I see
what I see
all the brighter

s'lovely, foolio!

 

[PandoraGlitters]

UYS, you are hilarious! I smirked and giggled muchly reading your poem. Naughty thing!

Tzara, the Cinderella Disappointed poem was exactly the sort of thing I pictured as a result of this challenge: a modern take on the fairy tales. Interesting that the slipper was acrylic and that you made reference to fur which, according to Kurt Vonnegut in the introduction to Transformations, was what Cinderella's shoe was before it was mistranslated to glass.

Charley, what an interesting take on the Lillith story, to make her the snake in love with Eve. I've always been fascinated with that character.

Fool, such a romantic. I can see how your subject evoked that association, though. Thank you for contributing that lovely poem.

Also interesting that you brought Lion Witch and the Wardrobe in as a fairy tale, Greenmountaineer. I can see how that relates, certainly, and how charming to let the poem be about the relationship between parent and child as the child experiences the story. Interesting way to address the challenge.

Wonderful point of view poem, Remec. I liked the feeling of how this sort of clay person became human, transformed by love.

And where is this new poem of which you speak, Tzara? Should I be looking in New Poems? Hope you post it here, too. Thanks to everyone who has participated so far. I look forward to reading more tonight or tomorrow.

 

[champagne1982]

Rose Red, Rose Red

Come play Snow White, here by the hearth.
See how his furry flank bears scars
of switches harsher than my willow whip?

Ahh, yes you never look
beyond the eyes
but little innocent
see down into his heart
where the craving lives
so that he returns to feel
my fiery warmth; the loving pain.

Again spring comes and now
he needs a different
heat, I know. I skip
without a thought until
we see the little man
caught up in currents
you heed his pleads
for help and I just know.
Ingratitude pours
from his mouth but, pay no mind.

Play with me and show my fingers
where you want the pinch, the pluck,
the slap sweet innocent, Snow White.

Twice more we see cruel
fate hold the tiny fellow
in its evil teeth,
and even though his treasure
grows his thanks dwindles
into bitter insults. I fear
he needs to feel the bite next
we cross his path.

But today, let me bite
of that soft and sweet
delight you carry to me,
my gift of fate. Lie here
with me, Snow White.

Oh, why don't you let my lips
bear you far from this dreary
wood? Instead you jump and run
to save that ugly little man
from who? The sight of two
whose play, no, whose fight
will end poorly, makes me want.

The winner will share my love
for you, Snow White. No more
will you run from the bite,
the kiss, the lips that fall
upon you. See now. Victory bestows
a princely mein upon our friend.

Come play, Snow White. Don't fear
the loss of innocence. We'll find
a love for me to share. A love
whose switch will twine with mine
and taste of that snow white skin.

Your Prince will carry us both away
and we shall feast upon the goods
this treasure buys, there - on the hearth.
where winter is banished by the heat
of four who crave no more.

 

[bflagsst]

I was wandering through the fairytale archetypes yesterday for a poem, but I read this weird Russian story about a girl who thinks 'combing' means sex and 'comb' means penis. Her father ends up sexing her while her mother cheers him on. I stopped my research and decided not to write a poem.

 

[EroticOrogeny]

I was wandering through the fairytale archetypes yesterday for a poem, but I read this weird Russian story about a girl who thinks 'combing' means sex and 'comb' means penis. Her father ends up sexing her while her mother cheers him on. I stopped my research and decided not to write a poem.

Sorry to hear that. Not sure if I'll get one in or not either - week was hectic.
There's certainly a wealth of information in the link you provided. I quite enjoyed random journeys from there.

 

[butters]

i have the basic idea. i know where i want it to go, what i want to do with it. i have the what i want to say down but not the way to say it ... and every damned time i try i'm getting stuck. or distracted. right now the next door neighbour HAS to be mowing his front lawn to within an inch of its damned life and the noise is driving me batshit.

earlier, as i sat down to get it right, the other neighbour has a screaming match with her teenaged daughter about some change of plans and difficulties arising from them ... it had been sunshine and birdsong just moments before.

i really am trying. but finding it a struggle to get it down, what's in my head.

 

[PandoraGlitters]

No worries, Bflagsst and Chipbutty. Just have fun with it. If it doesn't come before deadline, post it when it comes. I'm trying to write one today, too, just for the pleasure of it. If it works, I'll post it.

 

[PandoraGlitters]

Champ, your poem was intoxicating. Beautiful work.

 

[PandoraGlitters]

. . . . .

 

[EroticOrogeny]

Snow White and Rose Red

“Snow White and Rose Red
please don’t beat your lover dead.”
Rose Red and Snow White
my lady loves, my delight.

Rose Red my first romance
so special I didn’t take a chance.
My heart burned red hot,
but tell you I could not.
Cosmic beam, sure you felt my glow
happy hope, how could you not know.

Snow White, for you I bare my chest hair,
have heat, I become your beloved bear.
I act, no longer bound by fear,
I take you, hold you near and dear.
Soon stripped, your snowy skin I see
our sensual solution sets me free.

Rose Red I remember and regret,
final fondness found, yet I cannot forget.
Snow White, we are in wonder wed
Love lifts us in life beyond our blissful bed

Snow White and Rose Red
both have a home in my head.

Lang, Andrew, ed. "Snow White and Rose Red." The Blue Fairy Book

 

[champagne1982]

EO, it's interesting to see your take here, along with mine. Thanks for posting it since I had the bride confused at first... It's all better now though.

 

[EroticOrogeny]

EO, it's interesting to see your take here, along with mine. Thanks for posting it since I had the bride confused at first... It's all better now though.

Thanks. I spent a lot of time yesterday reading fairy tales, looking for inspiration. Some old for me, some new. Nice in its own right. Sort of had the idea for mine then, but it didn't come together until today. I went back and read your poem again, after acquainting myself with the story (new to me or long forgotten). Your poem is poem is a lot closer to the story than mine.
First poem I've written with both women in it.

 

[butters]

Her fingers were fond
of the toggle, slipping around
its dark ball--

the allegory wasn't lost
for the hunter.

One can only speculate
whether Red knew too.

If she would have urged
to the one who'd
devour her bloom and all:

start at the edge
of my hood.

If he folded her fingers
over her skirt hem and raised
her hands above her waist

then breathed to wings
the cradled blooms
of her basket.

fairytale erotica delightfully written, P

 

[Tzara]

Briar Rose

Asleep, she curls points into my side
not unlike these thorns.
It's some way she can
rest dead

upon my shoulder,
eternally,

or at least until
her pricked skeleton
ends up as some brisk dust.

Why should I wake perfection
with my lips, when I can clasp
it while it's cold? A frozen rose
sets its petals stiff for the observer,

whose breath might dew its wat'ry drops.


.

 

[CharleyH]

Her glass slipper was lost in the throw
of a rough tackle by linebacker Joe.
It wasn't a night of thinking -
more likely one of drinking -
when Jane turned to pumpkin mid-blow.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

Her glass slipper was lost in the throw
of a rough tackle by linebacker Joe.
It wasn't a night of thinking -
more likely one of drinking -
when Jane turned to pumpkin mid-blow.

LOL uproarious applause!

 

[PandoraGlitters]

EO I enjoyed reading your poem and imagining you torn between these two characters--interesting point of view.

Tzara! How creepy good your Briar Rose poem was. Erotic and edgy at once.

Charlie, wonderful fun reading yours--quite clever.

Thank you all for joining the thread and taking the challenge. I really loved reading the poems you came up with. (This has been a very busy week for me or I'd have responded sooner.)

 

[CharleyH]

LOL uproarious applause!

It was good, wasn't it, lol. Probably the best limerick I will ever do in this lifetime. It takes a leap of imagination, but so happy you liked, Annie.

Thanks for the challenge, Pandora! Some really good poems came from it.

 

[RilkesLetter]

I traveled long the forest path
night’s air borne on frosty breath
fallen leaves weep at my feet
while willows wait for Winter’s sleep

The coal gray sky begins to darken
in the distance the wind does hearken
to me a song that doth delight
in the magic of an Autumn’s night.

By pale moon’s light I chance a clearing
the scurrying of feet I am hearing
and in that shrouded misty glen
my eyes do spy a woodland nymph

Then right before my very eyes
the quiet forest springs to life
trees they dance with elves and gnomes
but the woodland nymph stands all alone

Amidst the merriment and the din
a single teardrop from within
my heart fell softly on the ground
with that ceased all earthly sound

Where faeries and sprites there were now trees
I knew this night had been a dream
yet I swear I heard carried on the wind
the whisper song of the woodland nymph

Tales sang to me of such delight
of the magic of this Autumn’s night