Runaway Elf

A myriad of colour was Jean Jane Lay,
Red hair, purple lips, nail varnish to match.
Gothic bracelet, tight leather bodice,
For a fairy prince she was a great catch.

Her wings were small, but delicate.
Her eyes were wide and bright.
Her bovver boots were well cool,
her skirt way too tight.

She didn't grasp the rules of love,
would rather go out and play.
But her Father said, 'Jean Jane my girl,
you will be wed this day'

'Oh Father, no' she wailed in dread,
I'm too young to be a wife.
I wanna run and scream and play,
go out and getta life.

'That may be so young Lady.'
Her Mother chipped in sternly.
But we promised your hand a long time ago,
to young Mikayl Bernleigh.

'I don't need a man' she protested,
I'm happy by myself.
Don't wanna marry, don't want kids,
I'm a solitary elf.

'Get you up to your room you whelp,
I won't have you chatting back.
You used to be a good girl,
Now manners you do lack!'

Poor Jean Jane she was so sad,
this isn't what she needs.
To be cooking all day,
up all night,with baby's milky feeds.

There was more to life for a wayward Elf,
Fun, laughter and games.
And anyway, if there was to be a mate,
it would be Donny James!

All the girls were into him,
including Marybelle Flutter.
With her golden hair and big blue eyes,
and skin as soft as butter.

Why couldn't she be pretty like Marybelle,
at least she'd land a looker.
She knew she wasn't the best looking Elf,
and she dressed just like a hooker.

But her parents, they were fighting mad.
Determined she should marry.
'Come on girl' her Father shouted,
'Jean Jane now don't you tarry!"

At the church there weren't many,
except snotty nosed Sue and Mandy,
Poor Jean she snivelled, she moaned and cried,
and Mikayl looked pretty randy.

'Can't wait to bed you darlin' said he,
this delight in her ear he did whisper,
'gonna grab you & cuddle you & love you I will'
and he lifted her veil and kissed her.

So what did become of Jean Jane Lay,
with her purple bovver boots?
She ran off to live in a castle,
and there she put down roots.

Her husband never found her,
didn't know she was with child.
She raised her daughter all alone,
in that castle in the wild.

So if you see an elfin girl,
with bright red hair and wings,
that's probably Jean Jane's offspring,
Good Luck to you she brings.

She is a cherished being,
looked after by the guides of the sky.
Please stop and spare a thought for the elves,
next time you walk on by.

Mad Accountant

The munchkin-man of High Wickham,
Came to visit me.
He thought I lived in a cosy house,
But he was wrong, I live in a tree.


I’m not human or munchkin or fairy not I,
Nor a bird, a bee or bear,
I’m a new kind of being, one you’ll never have heard,
And I’m soon to be a millionaire.

I’ve done so well with my tax returns,
Clients have paid me well.
The munchkin man wants a piece of my pie,
Well he can rot in hell.

I ain’t gonna give up my cosy life,
My spandikaly shoes and coat,
I want a new house, new clothes and a hat,
And I want a new sailing boat.

So Munchy mate can just sling his hook,
Go back from wence he came,
With his red tail hanging between his knees,
And his bobbly head hung in shame.

I don’t entertain clients like that,
I find him very odd.
There’s only one boss I answer to,
And that’s almighty God.

I might be small, ugly and weird,
I know I’m no beauty.
But that don’t matter, coz at the end of the day,
I’m the one with the looty.

Money talks they say, it’s true.
They all bow down to me.
They think I live in a cosy house,
Well they’re wrong, I live in a tree.

Autumn Leaves

Red hair falling in curls to her waist.
Green eyes, windows to her soul
The delicate skin of an Irish Rose.
Loving all was her only goal.


She would sit under the winter white tree.
The tree that never flowered.
That tree was cold, stark and knarled.
Over her body it towered.


One day she was called by the wise woman of the woods.
She was told she was needed to trap mice.
But when she arrived she soon discovered,
She was the human sacrifice.

She begged and pleaded to no avail,
Suggested they take another.
One of the old ones, surely not me?
It was either her or her brother.

Her brother was younger, strong and alive.
She loved him above all else.
Her parents had died when she was but a girl,
In a boat on the river Shelse.

Turmoil inside her churned like butter,
If she only had wings she’d fly.
But in order to save her only kin,
She knew she must prepare to die.

What a waste now she’s gone,
With her lovely red hair full of autumn leaves,
Now she is gone, now she is no more,
And all of the forest grieves.

Cyber-Shamans

We are the Cyber-Shamans
You will know us when you see us.
We travel from cyber-reality to cyber-reality,
to find you, to help you, to love you.

We bring you healing and wisdom.
We existed long ago in tribes with huts and fire,
we ate fresh air and spoke with the Earth.
That was when the Earth was healthy.

Dancing in the light of the moon.
We wore feathers, bone and animal skins,
Speaking truths and wisdom as you watched and listened.

We gave you our knowledge.
You learned as your soul grew.
That was when the Earth was healthy.
Mother Earth is dying now, she is sick.

Transported to your time, the twenty-first century,
clad in denim with our mobile phones,
we surf the waves of the World Wide Web.
In colourful, electric cyber land, we are here.

We will find you, teach you, just as we did before.
Just type WWW dot and with a click of the mouse,
we are there, with you.
You will know us when you see us.

We are here to help you, we are here to teach.
We are here to save the Earth.
This time……we will not go away.
There are just too many of us.
We are everywhere, here in cyberworld.

We are the Cyber- Shamans.
And we are here.

Be as the Scribe

How does one write, one minute of a vampire,
with his thirst for blood and lust for flesh?
Then speak of angels and faeries in their rainbow coloured existence?
Winged creatures of glory, exuding love and divinity.

The story of the vampire, based on Satan himself, prince of darkness,
all that is evil, dark and cruel.
The faeries from the light are the epitome of heavenly wonder,
surely little friends of Christ, with a direct link to the godhead.

How then, can one writer portray such a dichotomy of characters?
When surely these beings live at opposite ends of the spectrum.
'But you must’ cries our tutor, 'you must, if you want to write,
stretch yourself in all directions my students! Listen now.'

So a man writes as a woman, a woman as a man,
a fifty year old male author writes as a thirteen year old girl,
a twenty five year old female author becomes a seven year old boy.
Some of us write as old Aunt Aggie and her attic of antiques.
Others write stories of a drowning boy, cast aside by his wicked stepmother.

Some favour boats and stories of the stormy seas,
others like writing of horses and the thrill of the ride.
Fast cars, expensive shoes and gourmet meals,
the birth of a child, the loss of a loved one.

Me I write anything obscure, anything weird and wonderful,
I love clowns and angels, mermaids and witches,
a man half goat, half human.
Blood sucking vampires in the dead of night,
the faery realm dancing to the firefly’s light.

Best of all I love my dragons,
those majestic winged beasts exuding power and glory,
and a daffodil white unicorn with her deep blue eyes,
would be a glorious creature to write about.

As long as you 'feel' your character,
be it adult, child, beast or gnome,
then write,
keep writing,
don't stop,
and inspire your readers to find some escape,
from their lives,
into your dreams.


Come fly with me,
to a magical land,
where Karma flows,
on golden sand.

Come fly with me,
on a magic carpet of love,
where the characters you read of,
fit your heart like a glove.

Come fly with me,
up that haunted tree you climb,
where stories delight you,
and poems don't rhyme.

Come fly with me,
fly like the birds,
come enter the world,
and feel the magic of words.

Visitation

I give you a gift.
I give you the gift of creativity.
I give you the ability to make music, to transform your body into shapes, to dance,
To make tunes with your voice, to sing,
To become characters and instill emotional responses in your audience, to act.
To take thick colour and transform it into form, to paint.

I give you the gift of stories, of poetry.
I give you the gift of words, to put words on paper or to use the keyboard to produce words on a computer screen.
I give you the gift of writing.

Who am I?
I am your Angel of creativity, your muse.
I am your body and the chemicals within your body.
I am peptides and neuro transmitters,
I am your Quantum physical self,
I am god.

I gift you the gift of writing.
Open your heart to me, open your soul.
Allow me to stream into your consciousness and tell you my secrets.
Tell the world my secrets, tell the world my story.

Every day, find time, to open those receivers.
And let me through.
I have so much to say, so much to tell you.

Each and every one of you has your own writing Angel.
Each writing Angel is related to the next.
We live in a world where telepathic communication is mainstream,
Open your psychic ears and hear me.
Open your psychic eyes and see me.
Open your psychic senses and feel me.
Let me through.

Let me teach you to feel me around you,
Let me tell you the things I know.
I am vast, I am pure,
I am creativity.
I am god.

Share your spirit with mine,
Come Kiss the divine,
I give you a gift.
Don’t waste it.
I give you the gift of writing.

Twin Flame Love

When you connect with your Twin Flame,
Nothing will ever quite be the same.
A magical energy will open up around you,
A connection you simply can’t name.

A unity so deep,
Your true life’s aim.
You will know when you meet,
Your true Twin Flame.

You’ll have a love so strong,
a circle in the sand.
A timeless feeling,
Of standing hand in hand.

Have you met this person?
You will know it’s not a game!
Cherish him, respect him, most of all love him,
or you will lose your Twin Flame.

Being with your Twin is wonderful,
It makes you hold your breath,
but should you lose your way,
The pain is like a death.

So hold on to your love,
make sure you set it free.
Because if you don’t I warn you now,
You’ll end up just like me.

Letting go

Happiness fills my heart,
For the love I once had.
Wisdom spoken from my mouth,
Now I’m feeling glad.

Happy to walk the path alone,
simply because I love life.
Parted from him yet I feel him so near,
always in my heart, his wife.

His love surrounds me,
His words ring in my head.
But I carry him forward,
and follow where I’m led.

I fervently hope,
He’ll return to me some day.
But I realise now,
There is another way.

So I’ll walk in the sun,
as spindly pauper sings,
yet I’ll never stop loving him,
we are joined with astral rings.

Handfasted in heaven,
Our souls stand side by side.
Up there on Level 108,
I’ll always be his bride.

And if he does not come back,
In the third dimensional way.
I’ll walk the path in happiness,
and think of him each day.

Sending love to us in the past,
everywhere we ever did go.
Memories healed, moments cleansed,
Just remaining in the flow.

So I close the door upon us,
I give you a golden key.
Come back if you will someday my love,
til then I set you free.

Impressum

Texte: Copyright Magenta Pixie and the Nine
Bildmaterialien: Stock Xchng
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 16.10.2012

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