Fairytales #5

I wrote this one originally in 2002, but edited out a lot later, I just can't remeber when. I had restated the story too exactly so I left in enough to stay accurate and cut out enough to suit my sensibilities.

Snow Queen

Shards of dark glass
in his eye and heart
and the Snow Queen's freezing kiss
have stolen my Kay away.

Winter so dark and lonely without him.
Spring's new hope starts my journey.

The river carries me far from home.
A loney crone keeps me with her spells,
but her roses remind, it's Kay I must find,
so I leave her behind.

My love for him fills me
and opens the hearts
of birds, beasts, royalty, and robbers
to assist my quest to find my Kay.

At the end of the earth
stands the ice palace.
Kay at last!
but so cold, so still, so stiff.

My eager arms embrace
and welling joy spills
in hot tears that thaw his heart
and open his eyes.

Then he knows me.
Kay is my Kay again!

We're back home in warmest Summer.
Childhood is left behind,
but our childlike hearts beat together
never to freeze again.

April 2002

Fairytales #4

This one was written around the same time as the last two poems, but I have little memory of it. I did have a drawing for this one once, but it has disappeared. It was of the two main characters in the fire together, so it was romantically tragic or morbid, depending on the audience.

Steadfast Tin Soldier

Balanced on one leg
and gazing across the room,
I, a paper doll for admiring
see my one-legged soldier
in tin attention, never retiring.

Lost by a child's carelessness.
my steadfast soldier gone!
I would weep for loneliness,
but my painted smile stays on.

At last, at last,
he is returned,
saved from the belly of a fish,
but thrown in the fire and burned.

No!
He must know he's loved
before he's gone!
I cannot watch him die alone!

Catching a draft of air, I leap.
My paper body burns in a flash;
and his melted tin keeps company
with the spangle from my sash.

April 2002

Fairytales #3

This one is not my best, but I'm including it anyway since I have a very limited supply of good poems. I think I wrote this one in the same long night of poetry as The Little Mermaid.

Princess and the Pea

Up the ladder, anticipating comfort,

I climb into the strangest of beds.

I'm glad I'm not afraid of heights

or I should not sleep for dread.

The twenty mattresses are firm,

the twenty eiderdowns soft,

but I just can't get comfortable

on this padded loft.

What is that lump?

I'm sure that I can feel

a rock under my back,

hard and sharp, and real.

What do they mean by putting me here?

Is this some kind of test?

They'll never see the princess in me,

if I get no beauty rest.

April 2002