In life, there are things we never expect to see
and a very large hairy fairy
with Pancho Villa moustache is one of them.
This one flew into my garden and squashed all my roses
on his bad landing on that fateful day.
Every time he waved his supposedly magic wand,
everything went bottom up.
The roses he tried to mend
had their flowers in the ground
and their roots pointing skyward in the air.
It got that bad I had to replant everyone.
I shuddered to think what other magic
he might have up his sleeve.
The big hairy fairy dressed in a short Toto
spread out his wings to say goodbye and fly away.
He never got no more than three feet off the ground
before he again came crashing down
squashing all my tulips this time.
Enough is enough you’re ruining garden.
Do you realise all the hard work I have put in.
The hairy fairy looked at me
and then started to cry.
No body loves me, even the fairies kicked me out
because I am different from them.
Being a soft heated fool I am
I invited him in for a cup of tea,
but everything he sat on broke
and now I was stuck with
a ten ton hairy fairy as a house guest.
As time went on my replacement, furniture
was costing me a packet.
Then one day I woke up and the big hairy fairy was gone,
now I kinda miss him.
However, saying that
I can start to rebuild what was my happy home again
and hope with luck that big hairy fairy does not come back again.
Then in my garden,
I heard an almighty thump
and looked out the window.
In my agony I moaned,
Oh no. He is back again.
You should write stories for children, David. They'd LOVE your hairy fairy. Mind you, I'm sure quite a few grownups would too. I certainly do. Love, Allie ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
lolol first i read this morning and im laughing love this david 10
fabulous interesting poem shared my friend...well expressed thoughts in vividness! ! ! 10/10
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I think I have seen a hairy fairy in the trees. I don’t think it’s the same one, because this one had a moustache down to his knees. He did have a wand he was waving about and I must admit it was without a doubt, the worst magic I have ever seen. My poor garden took a beating its true, so I can really sympathise with you. I liked your poem