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Sprites fly through the living room
they glow green with magical dust sprinkles.
One lands on the end of my moms broom.
She blows it a kiss and it flys away.

Brownies climb the desk with little ropes
they sneak off with my reeses pieces
but they leave behind a bag of hopes
that I'll be a famous poetess someday.

Faerys are real, they just hide really good.
If you believe in them sometimes you get to see them.
If you go for walks in the woods
you might get to see faerys play.
This is my first rhyme poem! Thank you to everybody on this site, and your awesome poems. I learn so much from you guys everyday. :)
Cool black night thru redwoods
cars parked outside in shade
behind the gate, stars dim above
the ravine, a fire burning by the side
porch and a few tired souls hunched over
in black leather jackets.  In the huge
wooden house, a yellow chandelier
at 3 A.M. the blast of loudspeakers
hi-fi Rolling Stones Ray Charles Beatles
Jumping Joe Jackson and twenty youths
dancing to the vibration thru the floor,
a little **** in the bathroom, girls in scarlet
tights, one muscular smooth skinned man
sweating dancing for hours, beer cans
bent littering the yard, a hanged man
sculpture dangling from a high creek branch,
children sleeping softly in their bedroom bunks.
And 4 police cars parked outside the painted
gate, red lights revolving in the leaves.

                                        December 1965

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