Saturday, July 25, 2015

William H. Drummond writes


Jackson was a monster
Or so his sisters said
He chased them 'round the house all day
He made them both see red
He brought in frogs and turtles
And bugs, most of them dead
Jackson was a monster
Or an evil elf instead

Jackson loved his sisters
Despite their pretty curls
They both believed in faerie folk
And things from other worlds
He'd rather hunt the rabbits
The chipmunks and the squirrels
Jackson loved his sisters
But thought them silly girls

Jackson's sisters loved him
Just not his monster ways
They knew that deep inside his heart
Was strength that would amaze
His immature behavior
Was just a passing phase
Jackson's sisters loved him
And wished for better days

One night when Jack was sleeping
He felt the faeries frown
His dreams were filled with faeries and
One wore a faerie crown
The faeries heard his sisters' wish
Brought him to Faerie Town
One night when Jack was sleeping
His world turned upside down

The Faerie King addressed him
Into his dreams he came
He said that after this one night
Nothing would be the same
He'd soon believe in faeries
And care for things untame
The Faerie King addressed him
He called him by his name

“Jackson,” said the Faerie King
“You've got a lot to learn”
“If you think faeries feminine”
“And none of your concern”
“I‟ll teach you to know better”
“I‟ll give your mind a turn”
“Jackson,” said the Faerie King
“If you don‟t learn, you‟ll burn”

They flew off to the mountains
On unicorns with wings
And Jackson saw the earth below
He saw the faerie rings
He saw the dwarves and gnomes and elves
And felt a pain that stings
They flew off to the mountains
And he learned many things

He watched the faeries helping
Some made shoes and more
Some fooled poachers in the hills
And some relieved the poor
But evil covered everything
It made him want to roar
He watched the faeries helping
And his heart opened a door

Inside a large volcano
The king and Jackson flew
The searing heat and poison gas
Choked every breath Jack drew
And then he witnessed something
That turned his blood to glue
Inside a large volcano
Jackson learned what he must do

The old crone cackled crazy
She had a crystal ball
She laughed at people doing wrong
And at Jack most of all
For he could see himself in there
Answering her call
The old crone cackled crazy
As she watched her targets fall

The old crone's smile vanished
When she became aware
Of Jackson and the Faerie King
Watching with a stare
Her gaze fixed on the little lad
And he saw himself in there
The old crone's smile vanished
But her eyes laid his soul bare

The Faerie King was silent
Stern, immoveable as stone
And Jackson stood and trembled
He felt, oh, so alone!
But then a strange thing happened
He pitied the old crone
The Faerie King was silent
Then he sat upon his throne

For when his heart had shifted
When wisdom came to Jack
The Faerie King sprinkled faerie dust
And sent both of them back
And Jackson stood there blinking
With a jaw extremely slack
For when his heart had shifted
It was like a heart attack

The faeries were rejoicing
They clapped and sang and danced
A human boy had changed that night
Their power was enhanced
The Faerie King kissed Jackson's cheek
The unicorns both pranced
The faeries were rejoicing
And Jackson was entranced

Jackson was no monster
But he was still a boy
He'd still chase bugs and rabbits
His sisters he'd annoy
But now the world was precious
Not his own exclusive toy
Jackson was no monster
And his heart was full of joy

1 comment:

  1. Faeries, come take me out of this dull world,
    For I would ride with you upon the wind,
    Run on the top of the dishevelled tide,
    And dance upon the mountains like a flame.

    No less a figure than Ireland's first Nobel laureate William Butler Yeats was keenly interested in the literary value of fairies. His early poetry was deeply influenced by Edmund Spenser's FAERIE QUEEN, and his first play to be professionally performed was THE LAND OF HEART'S DESIRE, about a faerie who seduces newly-wed Maire Bruin to abandon mortal life and join her "Where beauty has no ebb, decay no flood, / But joy is wisdom, Time an endless song." W. H. Auden, arguably the UK's other great poet of the early 20th century, called this aspect of Yeats' work the "deplorable spectacle of a grown man occupied with the mumbo-jumbo of magic." So, Bill, you are in good company.


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