Delicate Strength

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In her very breath, she’s womanly:
Soft and calm; refined and elegant.
But beneath the soft, a strength of steel;
Intelligent, kind, clever, and relevant.

Indeed, her words may pierce or caress;
A sharp-edged tongue with a velvet underside;
It’s not a deceit, but a complexity;
A duality of form, undefined.

And while she nurtures, she is fierce;
Ready to defend; equally to solace.
While she is loved, held most dear,
She’s not liked by all, and hardly flawless.

The depth of her life contradicted by beauty;
The surface denying what lies underneath;
The softness of voice, that sounds so gentle
Deceiving in every vocal upbreathe.

For under the soft exterior shell,
lies the heart of a lioness, strong and resilient.
As what is all soft cannot fully exist,
The harshness of life creates a balance that’s brilliant.

When you go to judge by a beautiful face,
A beauty that’s elegant; decorated with grace,
Remember that softness belies a great strength,
A gentle exterior with an iron base.

 
© Amarine Rose Ravenwood, 2018

The Fairy Queen

As Brigid walked, returning home,
Along a forest path,
She chided herself not to roam,
And thought of her next bath.

Yet Fate had very different plans
For Brigid, that sweet girl,
And drew her to the wood of Pan’s
By a-glimmer like a pearl.

But as she came within good sight,
She saw it was no glimmer,
Instead, her heart filled with delight,
As she saw sparkles shimmer.

“What are these little things?”
she asked, as she moved closer still,
The glowing of their tiny wings
Imparted such a thrill.

The Queen, she flew up, bright and small,
And greeted the fair lady,
“How dark you are, and oh, so tall,”
She gripped her ukulele.

“I mean no harm,” the lady said,
“I only want to see.”
Although she should be in her bed,
Her heart filled up with glee.

“Although you’re dark, you seem quite sweet,”
The Queen at last conceded,
“Your presence gives us quite the treat,
Just sit a ways,” she pleaded.

So gently that she might not tread
Upon a single fairy,
She moved away and there she shed
Her cloak, and sat to tarry.

Sitting there in deepest night,
She watched the fairies dance.
They moved and sparkled with such light,
She shortly was entranced.

A moment’s blink, or so it seemed
Dawn’s fog caressed her cheek.
The fairies’ dance and how they’d gleamed
Had put her straight to sleep.

And as she walked back to her home,
By light of rosy sun,
She ate a piece of honeycomb,
And thought of past night’s fun.

I will return tomorrow night,
She promised herself, firmly.
I need to see their sparkly light;
This time, I’ll go out early.

~ Amarine Rose Ravenwood
All photos public domain

Merellian Song

Rainbow Hummingbird

Upon a dream, a melody
Floats through the air, and to the sea,
And grasses blow, and birds may fly,
Along the edge of a lavender sky

And as the notes linger along,
They form the smallest bits of song;
At first so near and then away,
Gliding on sunlight’s longest ray.

They flutter wings like butterflies,
And blink at you with deep cat’s eyes;
Transparent, though, they’re barely seen,
Before they fade into the green.

The rainbow of the waving grass,
The trees that shake their leafy mass;
They carry notes like water drops,
And fling them ‘cross the mountaintops.

A rose pales by their lovely bloom,
A sound that’s here and gone too soon.
Upon a dream, a melody…
There is a song, but can you sing?

~ Amarine Ravenwood

A Nemor

Nym Cover Drawing 5 Pastels Close Up Edited Watermarked

In the great Northern wood where the Bumbello blows,
Lives a tribe of people that nobody knows.
The vast shady breeze of the pumpalump trees
Carries their tribe-songs throughout their leaves

They’re the bravest of warriors – hardy, but true,
And come in all colors, especially blue.
Legends abound of their fiery breath,
They know honor and courage and even face death.
They’re furry and cuddly, and lovable too,
With loyalty strong, they hold true to you.

A Nemor is generous, gentle, and kind,
A furry exterior, an intelligent mind.
But a Nemor is rare – as rare as can be,
For nobody goes to the pumpalump trees.
Shrouded in mystery, these creatures exist,
Hiding in hollows and living in mist.

~ Amarine Ravenwood

Artwork by Lorraine Hall