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Ice Princess ~ Fantasy #6

Ice artistic, spears ballistic, hanging freezing forms simplistic.

Sparkling like rare diadems with crusted hair, cascading hems.

Watching water freeze midair, with a wizard's magic flair,

I will point my wand at will and capture moisture, make it still ...

© 2012 Karen Beukema

Blush ~ Fantasy #5

Of a blushing summer rose inscripted in a book of prose,

a fairy tale, a bed of dreams, a fantasy of silver streams,

of gossamer, a flowing skirt, a rare confection for dessert . . .

I think upon, this moment rare, a trilogy of sisters fair

who ponder life thru eyes so pure; a blush of innocence demure.

© 2011 Karen Beukema

Cooing Dove ~ Fantasy #4

Soft as a feather of new swanling white

I float o'er the stage and think not of my fright.

It's dark where the vast sea of onlookers sit,

so I can pretend it's just me in this skit.

I do love to dance like a cloud floating high,

as soft as a whisper, a breeze floating by.

Just hold your breath quiet and let me perform

as though I am home doing my favorite free-form...

© 2010 Karen Beukema

Blue Mist ~ Fantasy #3

Reflections on a midnight pool before the mists of dawn,

a glimpse of magic in the twinkling of a dancing Faun.

He plays a haunting tune upon a flute of silver twig,

with hoofsteps pacing to and fro ~ a clever, artful jig.

I, mesmerized, affix my gaze onto his eyes of blue;

a wink of mischief, now he smiles, then turns to bid adieu.

I linger in the quiet with the morning mist now high

and wonder "Did I dream just now, or did a Faun I spy?"

© 2010 Karen Beukema

Bunting ~ Fantasy #2

Bunting, Bunting, sitting on my shoulder, what new secret have you now?

Is there some new gossip in the kingdom? Have you heard the cat's meow?

Tell me what has got you chirping loudly, tell me of this news you bring;

let me hear you sing it to me proudly, while I stroke a feathered wing.

© 2010 Karen Beukema

Sunflower ~ Fantasy #1

The August heat looms heavy now with laden sweat upon the brow

of man or beast or fair artiste in yonder faerie wood southeast.

'Tis cumbersome to work or play, or walk in stifling heat all day;

yet crops aspire beneath the sun to grow yet taller, not quite done.

By thunderstorm the rain descends to drench the field and make amends

with thirsty creatures, thirsty soil, a cooling spell, relief from toil;

and thru it all the sunflower stands with drooping head and leaf-cupped hands

to offer shade, a gracious bow, with scattered seed in many lands.

© 2010 Karen Beukema