|"A Style all his Own"|
Will has his own poetry blog, of which I have mentioned many a times! But here is one of his latest. For more, consider becoming a follower of his. songsforanewmillennium.blogspot.com Another one of his poems is highlighted on my Art blog... Art Happens. Click on my blog title if you are interested in reading "Across the Skies".
Percy (or) The Lover in Fairie
by William R. Bednar
To see the world through fairie lens,
The scrying pool, the artist's pen,
To live in such a wond'rous world
Will feed the lover's soul, unfurled,
Will free the heart to catch the moon
Will start romantic hearts to swoon.
So Percy, young and free at heart,
Who from his love was torn apart,
Walked the woods in shadowy gloom
Proclaiming death of love, and doom,
When stepped he into fairy ring
And heard the satyrs lusty, sing.
He watched the dryads flow'ry dance.
He saw the fairie happ'ly prance.
And in the midst of this he met
A vision out of Heaven sent
In form of twinkling, thoughtful eyes
And skin as clouds that grace the skies,
Skin much softer than the wind, and smooth
As stone that's by the water, grooved.
By magic fire a dance began.
By this spell, lost was the young man.
With eyes the color of the sea,
Began to court the fairy sweet,
Did Percy, past his other love.
By one touch from enchanted glove
Worn on hand of Percy's goddess
His heart did swoon and heave his chest.
That night the pair was lost in song
And Percy laughed and loved 'ere long.
At light of dawn the blue eyed youth
Received a kiss that spoke of truth
From elven maid, enchanted.
By the sun the fairie panted,
Shrinking from the light of morning,
And vanished fast, without warning.
Percy, in the wake of magic
Was abandoned. Feeling tragic
He lay prostrate upon the hill.
As days did pass he lay quite still
And slowly, overcome by woe,
He begged the Earth, upon him, grow
And take his weight, his sky blue eyes
And help his tortured soul to die.
Upon the spot where once he lay,
So aided by the sun and rain
Did grow a pair of flowers, blue.
The Earth had taken up the youth.
When one year passed, on Eve of Saints
The Fey returned, with colored paints.
The girl who danced with Percy, young,
When all the singing had begun
Did find blue petals, growing strong
And wove them in her hair, so long.