Make your own free website on

Cold sings the morning
snowdrift's icy
sending shivers down her
spine's frozen wings weighing heavy.
Soul's light spring reminds of dew drops
in morning sun's first beams.

~ Pushkin ~


~ Ellyn ~
They’re talking about tygers and lambs
and I try to pretend I know what they mean
but my eyes keep looking out the window,
past the tissue paper artworks
and into the sky that is gray and
I think about swimming,
not outside but anywhere,
anywhere with water
that will wrap around me and
make me warm and cause
my hair to float like a mermaid’s
even though its short and dead brown
and not long and glowing blonde like that of
the mermaid Kim told me about
"She was beautiful," that’s what she said
and I pictured this magical animal
who has golden hair that floats
and I remember a dream I had when
I was little about living in this bluegreen
world that held the stars in the daytime
and everyone would smile and touch the light
and swim around like they had
nothing else to do and I,
still staring out at the gray sky,
have that dream again and
it feels like I’m swimming
and I’m warm and I wander
around the water
like I have nothing else to do.

One Blue Wall~1999

she watches
herself grow weary
in the icy reflection
as she awaits
the return of spring
and the use of her own wings now numb
to the dragon
and to the cold.

~ Connie ~


Just as the gently falling rain washes away the dust of a hot summer day,
So does your love, wash away the fear
and anger of all my troubles and doubts.
Just as the white softness of the clouds
enhance the blueness of a spring morning,
So does your love, enhance the happiness of my soul.
Just as the sweet sound of the robin fills the trees
with the song of life,
So does your heartbeat next to mine,
fill my spirit with your love.
Just as the mother wolf protects her cubs from harm,
So does your arms around me,
shelter me from pain.
Just as the brightness and warmth of the sun,
brings life to all below,
So does the warmth of your touch,
brings life and happiness to my spirit.
As I wonder why the Creator hid you from me so long,
I realize that without knowing the pain of loneliness,
and the suffering of heart,
I could not feel or appreciate the abundance of the peace
and joy of your love.
And for this, I am grateful.
Just as the reflection in the clear blue waters,
mirror the beauty of the Creator's world,
So does my soul and spirit, mirror the image of yours,
because truly, the Creator made us as one.

~Wolf Dreamer ~

woman standing amongst the trees
arms up encircled over her weary head
body of creation strong and slim
never tiring never swaying never trembling
woman standing strong in her circle of trees
the place where she feels most at home
watching the sun peek through
through the trees looming overhead
hiding from the beasts in the forest
woman standing without faltering
standing in her protective faerie ring

illustration and poem by:
Opal Rain - 3/4/00

Tears melting nothing.
Waiting for what spring?
Feeling so utterly hopeless.
No longer afraid of something, but rather afraid of everything.
Flight hurries far from reach
while hurt, pain and freezing numbness
take over the empty spots.
(Lost the soul somewhere back around the corner
of the dragon's sideway glance as she looked up from his singing.)

Words falling on icy layers of run-on sentences.
Words saying the same thing but meaning nothing.

Tears melting nothing.
Can't wait for wings that are frozen to thaw,
knowing that they will likely be frozen forever
along with the little girl who fancied færies and castles
now curled in the cold darkness
with her dreams forgotten.
Lost is the promise of being there forever
a promise as real as the færie tales in the book of wonder
that she used to read by flashlight under the covers
now sitting tattered on a shelf with other tattered bindings
holding nothing together.
Tears melting nothing.

ÒThe DaisyÓ

I stand in the meadow
easily swayed by the breeze.
My beautiful petals
shine as the sunlight hits them.
Hark! What is that I hear in the distance?
I look around, and see the ground shaking.
I can sense that something is wrong,
but what could it be?
The groundÕs shaking is fiercer now
I can feel my leaves being tossed around
Oh no! I see them coming!
Those heavy beings that care not what they trample!
What will I do?
I try to pick up my roots,
but they are too firmly planted!
Oh no! TheyÕre coming closer!
Somebody help- - -
Copyright 1997-1999 by Opalrain

Faerie wings of lace and silk
Softly beating in rhythmn with my heart.
I feel light and free in their guarding presence.
Flying, floating with the stars,
Upon wings of youth and innocence.
Above the trees and on the clouds,
Casting shadows in the ghostly moonlight.
Laughing as a child,
In awe of their beauty.
I am with my friends, the faeries
the little people, the innocent ones.

Dedicated to the little ones who inspired me,
: Artemis Hunt :

look to the sky

i was speaking to my shaman last night
he said to look to the sky
so i've been standing outside for hours
watching the clouds form
and i felt the first drop of rain
peered around for shelter
but there was none,
and i stood there staring
at the raindrops cascading
after a while i was soaking wet
but strangely, i didn't care and was not cold
so i watched the rain through my
foggy glasses and
and watched.
staring at the sky
the people found me
lying on my back
wet cigarette butt between my fingers
my body drenched,
my organs stopped.
-that's all.
so... how are you?
I'm ok. Breathing, here, hanging in there, scared. But I'm ok.
better? if better means not wanting to die, yes.
do i still feel like i'm never getting out of here? yes. but i'm
looking to my options, trying to decide... but depression
my ability to make decisions so I'm in limbo.
stable? not exactly. well, i guess. :/ medically stable, emotionally
quieter. exhausted within and without.
I just wish i had energy, motivation.
that would be nice.
because if i did, i could get out of here.
but i don't, and i'm so stressed because of it.
hanging in there, hanging in there.

This page will highlight poems
written by faeries, wee ones and humans.
If you would like to submit a poem,
send the poem to Pushkin, via e-mail.

Short stories will also be accepted.