Toadstool house with plastered shingles,tiny hollowed windows glazed
with skin from children’s fingers
boiled with bladderwort. You’d be amazed
at fairy-kin estate agents
scratching at oblivious hells
to make another buck, all heaven scent
but snails decline and when the bells
toll out the early dawn they leave
before the birds come for their feast
there’s nothing quite like fairy flesh to grieve
the kindness of a loathing beast.
8 comments:
Hi! I found your blog on the NaBloPoMo January 2009 Blogroll.
Are you the author of this poem? I read it through several times. It's got an interesting voice, a little like Lewis Carroll. Kind of Alice in Wonderland meets Jabberwocky.
I like your blog, I'll be back!
Hi Sarai :)
I am indeed the writer - i try to post one (illustrated) poem a day. I'm glad you liked it.
Charming visual, but the verse is absolutely fantastic. Like Sarai, I read it several times - and still can't quite believe it. (I do, of course, just left gasping!)
Thank you Dave.
Sometimes I get a poem right :)
What a bizarre enjoyable piece!
I, too, had several goes at it! Superb Rach and fantastic illustration as ever..
I'm glad you persevered! Thanks Gina :)
I love this. The painting is lovely, the poem delicious.
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