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Covering of Fire
by David Barger
2009-10-29 09:49:05
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A fairy moved gracefully
Overtop the undergrowth
Of a dense and dark forest.
A twig brushes her wing,
As her back clinches in pain,
When moments before
Merely minutes ago
A wolf had torn it
With a clean and vicious swipe
Of his powerful claw.
Her beautiful wings,
Only one left intact,
Three fragments became the other
Like a spider web
Damaged by fallen twig
Weaving in the air
Limp and lifeless.

His paws raking
Dead leaves with
Each stride taken.
The wolf leaps over
A fallen tree rotting of decay.
His nose in the air,
Eyes rolled back into his head,
Thinking on how she stole
The crystal that was his;
The lone trophy
Which he had killed many for.
His thoughts pause.
He’s caught her scent.
The soft smell
Enriched of sweetness
Laced with virtue,
And the slightest hint of magic.
Lunging forward
He picks up speed.
Wild thrusting movements
Carry him onward
After his sought prize.

Climbing a tall structured Oak
She swiftly continues
Light-footed upon the tree tops
Clinging to the red crystal
With its fire glow given name
Harboring shards filled
Of innocence lost tragically;
The blood of the earth
Its only known power.
His shadow slipping
In and out of the forest floor.
A November wind
Watching the chase
Begins blowing
In amorphous rhythm.
Gust after gust
Hitting her legs.
One follows through
Reaching her heel,
And she falls
Scraping against branch
After branch until
The ground collects
Her broken pieces.
A howl is heard
Echoing past her ears!
Gathering her strength
She crawls to the watered edge
Of the hindering marshes
With crystal still in hand.
She is swallowed by the water.

The wolf laps at the area
Where she had fallen
Tasting the green blood
Left by her opened wounds.
Her trail fades near
The moonlit marsh waters.
His form changes,
Fur giving way to human likeness,
Snout reverting in turn
Though his skin tone
Reflects the paleness
Of the cold distant moon.
His teeth hold firm
To the dagger sharp canines.
Looking towards her escape
He finds only mud,
A few broken branches
Half waterlogged,
And a church of cattails.
Their fuzzy spikes
Taunting him
As the wind moves away.
His anger increased
Spreading out into a black mist!
He moves over the water’s edge
Then heads northeast.
His cursing lingers
In the night air
Overlooked by the one
Plant without a spike.
She sits up out of the water
Her energy slowly fading;
Placing the fire crystal
In the bed of cattails,
Using the last of her fairy magic
Green blood forms
Leaving a cover
At the water’s surface
Where vines are arranged
With white flowered petals
Highlighted blue.

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Get it off your chest
 (comments policy)

SANJAYANT2009-11-30 06:53:33
iI guess there is lot of GOOD POETRY BEYOND
Indian mainland.

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