The Mushroom Fairy

My last post I focused on the magic that I found traveling on the west coast. A comment from one of my readers who lives in the west coast made me think about how there are times that we forget how magical our own backyards can be.

When I moved to my house over ten years ago, I walked my daughter to and from preschool. She's older now and walks herself, but I still enjoy walking in my neighborhood. Most especially I love seeing mushrooms. At this time of year they crop up everywhere and I can't resist taking pictures of them. Mushrooms are magical in my opinion--the colors, the shapes, the sizes, the suddenness--all of it is amazing and though I'm not a poet, it inspired me.

The Mushroom Fairy

She sets to work in the dampness of dusk

Arms laden with magic, air heavy with earthy musk

Soft soil delights in fairy tending

Seedlings thrive and ivy wending

By dawn all spells have been cast and thrice chanted

Greens, golds and grays securely planted

What sprouts are spongy clouds, an enchanted playground

Where fairies play and dreams abound

OOO October's Outta the Drawer Originals, part II

The only thing scarier to a writer than sharing their work, is sharing work you assume is less than perfect. For this week's offering, I'm sharing some bad poetry. I'm not a poet, but sometimes the feeling hits me to write in verse. Maybe my regular muse takes a break and trades off with her rhyming replacement.My point is, don't be afraid to share and tag it OOO October's Outta the Drawer Originals, be it snappy short stories, exciting excerpts or bad poetry (or good, your choice).Here's a touch of whimsy. The Fairy BallA girl and her mother caught in a sudden storm pass the time with the fairies.

Early Inspiration

The first stories I told as a kid were ghost stories. You know the ones I'm taking about. The mysterious drip that came from nowhere. The woman with a ribbon around her neck. The hook in the car door. The Lady in White. The list goes on and on, but they were stories we told each other at slumber parties, at recess, and especially at Halloween.As an adult, I look back at those stories with a hint of longing. Longing for the time when Halloween was atmospheric and eerie. Now it feels more repulsive and gory. Scary yes, gruesome no. Whatever happened to The Wolves of Willoughby Chase or The Watcher in the Woods? If you don't know what I'm talking about, please look them up as examples of stories with real atmosphere.Being a writer has made me more proactive. If I feel there's an absence of something I want to read, instead of complaining I write it. So, despite being a rather mediocre poet for some reason Halloween puts me in mind to rhyme.All Hallows Evening

Quiet creaking

Gentle shivers

Paces seeking

Lighted slivers

         *

Moonlit pools

Carry secrets

Hungry ghouls

Hide in thickets

          *

Unsuspecting

Wander through

Anticipating

Only you

          *

Finding barely

What was sought

Knowing faintly

You’ve been caught

           *

Night of Hallows

Veils thin

Until the morrows

Stay in!