HOME | DD
CaptainStern — Making Fairies
Published: 2006-10-04 19:54:21 +0000 UTC; Views: 1782; Favourites: 18; Downloads: 15
Redirect to original
Description
T'was a fine day, sure, fir craftin Fey!Moonbeams found the moosif spots
in shallow root and earthen spray,
this is t'where the hoppers got.
With their Ments'a brassy bound,
furled cravate and pincers cray
and sleeves that stretched straight to the ground:
they often played this way.
Well Fig was there and also Jade
and Efania with ribbons laced with br'aer
and to the tunes they swooped and swayed
and prepped the lovely maiden's hair.
But pesky bubbles off burbling broo
did lift a' churning and threaten heft-
the orchestra that played like mad
to recall the hovering treble clef.
The Maiden smirked
the hoppers heaved
the Fey pinned barbles of reality
and all the while 'first violin' chittered in secret maniacal glee...
--------------------
Super thanks to all the artists below for the wonderful stock to play with
Beautiful Maiden@ [link] Neebow-Stock
Green Fairy@ [link] jeni-stock
Blue Fairy@ [link] trinket-stock
Violet Fairy@ [link] Shyble-stock
Ribbons@ [link] Vampbabe
Background@ [link] LD-resources
Bubbles @ [link] Michmellow
Related content
Comments: 33
Awesome!
I apologise for the belated comment but I appreciate your use of my stock and I think you've done a wonderful job. May all your future projects be as creative and exciting!
Sincerely yours,
*vampbabe
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
Glad you like it...and no worries, 
👍: 0 ⏩: 0
lol, I guess you like it then? 
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
you leave me without words..
I was tryin' to say that is the best manip done with that pic..
👍: 0 ⏩: 0
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
pfft...not sure. It just comes together and it either works or doesn't. If it doesn't I try to fix it or if I've lost the inspiration I just give up. To be honest, I prefered the collaborative poem above to the actual piece itself
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
well the collaborative poem and your work are both very good.
👍: 0 ⏩: 0
With limbs stuck fast and short breaths prized;
The swirling vortex mesmerized;
Prismatic waves of star-kissed rays;
Wrapped about, held fast and staid.
The music of the summoning;
Faerie beat of drum and wing;
Crafted now, like autumn leaves ;
Changed with crafty subtleties.
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
Drunkeness beget my thoughts -
seemed this sound, I had sought
casual passerby no more;
they were, for reason, beneath my floor.
And thus I fell upon the earth
the oddest heap, unlikely birth
and crowded round with carrion trill
the band watched, bemused, reality spill.
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
A flit of memories joined to dance;
Spun to magical, musical chance.
Now more, now less, now less, now more;
They jigged right out. Bowed to the floor.
The band leaned back, in awe and terror;
The whirling images reeled together;
A waltzing glimpse of life they cast;
Of mothers, fathers, siblings past.
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
A carpenter, a beekeeper;
highly strung streetsweeper.
A tailor, a seamstress
a lover of sport.
The vision of such things,
brought to life like daydreams;
'We must drive back these things!'
cried the Band in retort.
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
"Wait!" I cried, "These people are me;
Or were, or are ... or ... or they used to be?;
My mind is all lost, adrift in an ocean;
Terribly wrought by the draft of a potion!"
The conductor looked down, and said with a frown;
"That shouldn't, couldn't, be what you've found!;
The Jinn is music, magic and laughter;
Wonder and spirit; the headache comes after".
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
His words came estranged, from a face deranged;
he eyed me as something alienesque!
Not one of them and not me, or what I used to be;
entirely different, but alike nonetheless.
Then suddenly, with ado, came a feeling within;
I was stretched and pulled, impossibly thin;
'Now, there...' started the conductor, baring luminous green teeth;
as he spoke with a satisfactory grin.
👍: 0 ⏩: 0
Whoever would dream to see such a sight;
As played in that root-shadowed, moon-bitten night?
As one the band cleaved, and off the ground heaved;
The stars leaned together in drunken delight.
The violins played with a fury of limbs;
Cello fought trumpet: a beautiful din.
A crushing crescendo that made the night roar;
Such magical melody: that orthopteran score.
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
Like moths they appeared, in moonlit veneer,
to the summoning of primeval chime.
Through the dust of the Fey, a frozen sea-spray,
did their gaze momentarily snare mine.
In that spark of the moment a trembling began,
the tinder that suddenly meets pyre.
At a loss, without reason, a world without seasons
I slipped into the eye of the Gyre.
👍: 0 ⏩: 0
My teeth were all furry, my sight had gone blurry
inspired by burning, pitch, brew.
And in spite of my mind, from my hands did I find
contrast keys; I watched as they grew.
With a rending and pop, they stretched long through the air
and then flattened like a casually plucked clam.
And it suddenly was clear- I was a piana-neer
as a stool slapped my butt with a slam.
👍: 0 ⏩: 0
You think too much!
It's just a piece,
not meant to slight or subtle trick.
It's really just a visual prompt
to give imaginings a prick.
👍: 0 ⏩: 0
Ah, what's this?
A craft't fey trick?
I'm bound to say
I'm such a dick
I'm such a dick
+P
👍: 0 ⏩: 0
I sat a while, in lonely thought;
A pause before soft fall of night.
And in that time, my ears were sought;
By harmonies, in ways delight.
I crept from bed onto the floor;
And there through crack, cob-webbed and dim;
The sound of many-legged encore:
Bow and plucked and choral hymn.
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
An epic feat, I squeezed my eye,
to push it 'tween warped cabinfell,
through the rosin dust I spied
the makings of feyre's spell.
It seemed just then the music stopped,
as floor with gasping, mighty bend
and from my fingers sight did flop
and onto music stands descend!
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
A jangle of bells and a tangle of limbs;
Amongst ringing cymbals, is where I sat.
A voice, dry like reeds: rasping and grim;
Quizzically ventured, "B flat?"
"Nonesense!" answered another, clearly in pain;
Six claw-ended legs pointing up in the air.
"Most certainly not! Have I been shot?"
The legs began writhing, and kicking in vain.
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
Cautious, resembling a twig made of glass
I straightened with slight ache, myself from the floor
and there before me - not seeming impressed;
the conductor, who towered as big as a door!!!
"Now who be this wingless, Imp from the fray?!"
Like a lance was his stick, and he prodded me quick.
"Well speak, young scuttlebummed cannoneer...
do we look like a band who can sit idle this day?!
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
Fighting back tears, I lifted my chin;
Curtsied politely, and trembling spoke,
"Why, good sir!" I forced, high and thin.
"I'm not that sure I am one of those folk."
The conductor started: wings chirpped and claws grated.
"Not one? Are you two? Well, how many are you?"
I gaped like a fish and stood there berated;
Suddenly wishing I'd asked him, "How do?"
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
"Pfft...uhhhh....hmmmm....errmmm,
I guess I am me, if you count that as THREE?"
I showed him three fingers, as you do to affirm,
and insult he took, I started to squirm.
With a thump and a woosh I was suddenly grabbed
and dragged off asides, rather forcefully I add,
as he said, "There you'll sit and not move a bit!
For this ceremony is late, you wingless wee git!"
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
A face, long and sharp, peered out from a harp;
Beckonging fingers, twig thin.
With eyes, shot with blood, and teeth flecked with mud;
He offered me something called"Jinn".
"Drink this!" he hissed, and sloshingly lisped,
"And play!", whilst moving now slower.
He hiccupped and giggled: bow-tie all squiggled;
Smiled sideways, then winked and fell over.
👍: 0 ⏩: 0