Author Topic: Fairy tale  (Read 2044 times)

bludie

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Fairy tale
« on: November 18, 2004, 06:14:46 PM »
Shel Silverstein's "The Giving Tree" once made me want to roll up in a fetal position and sob. Not a fairy tale, per se, but a wonderful little book.

And, yes, Seeker, my name is pronounced blew-dee. Thanks for asking.
Best,

bludie

guest today

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fairy tales
« Reply #1 on: November 18, 2004, 09:26:10 PM »
My fairy tale comes from song lyrics and musical theatre.... Somewhere over the Rainbow, I have confidence, When you wish upon a star, When you walk through a storm, Impossible dream  

Sometimes I think I would be a more healthy person if I could find a new, internal soundtrack.

Anonymous

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Fairy Tales
« Reply #2 on: November 18, 2004, 09:59:09 PM »
I do relate to Hansel and Gretel. That story fascinated and scared me when I was young. I felt like those siblings, with a mean mother who also seemed like a witch.

bunny


Side note: The opera Hansel und Gretel by Engelbert Humperdinck (1893) is enchanting.

Anonymous

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Re: fairy tales
« Reply #3 on: November 18, 2004, 10:03:54 PM »
Quote from: guest today
My fairy tale comes from song lyrics and musical theatre.... Somewhere over the Rainbow, I have confidence, When you wish upon a star, When you walk through a storm, Impossible dream.


Gosh, I love old show tunes. They make me feel good, kind of help me through some situations.


bunny

bludie

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You're right, Seeker
« Reply #4 on: November 19, 2004, 06:46:58 AM »
...Shel Silverstein did look quite mangey in that photo....As for show tunes, how about "Bess You Is My Woman" from Porgy and Bess. Even as a little girl that song always gave me chills. To love someone like that...sigh....
Best,

bludie

phoenix

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Fairy Tales
« Reply #5 on: November 21, 2004, 07:50:37 PM »
Anyone read the original version of Bambi by Felix Salten? It was originally written for adults as an allegorical commentary of the Jews during the Holocost, to be banned by the Nazis in 1936.

The book is layered with  political, social, and spiritual themes.

Here is a beautiful excerpt, worthwhile all by itself:

http://www.theblackriver.net/attic/winter.html

The book is heavy, dark, beautiful. Disney veered far from the meat in this book to make a childs cartoon, which I love as well.

I know this sounds more like a book review; I mean for it to reflect my life's fairy tale. Phoenix

flower

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Fairy Tales
« Reply #6 on: November 21, 2004, 08:58:22 PM »
Hi Seeker, thanks for this thread!

I can't think of a fairy tale that represents my life right now but, I remember a couple of  poems my mom would recite part of to me often when I was little that are reflective of how things were for me.

She used to say,  something like "Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly." She went on for a  time longer about the fly getting caught by the spider. I remember her words scaring me.

 Not so funny thing, that she used flattery to manipulate me when I was growing up and longer, than I'd like to admit, as an adult,  so as to knock me down later and make the fall harder.  

 "Will you walk into my parlor?" said the spider to the fly;
"'Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you may spy.
The way into my parlor is up a winding stair,
And I have many curious things to show when you are there."
"Oh no, no," said the little fly; "to ask me is in vain,
For who goes up your winding stair can ne'er come down again."
"I'm sure you must be weary, dear, with soaring up so high.
Well you rest upon my little bed?" said the spider to the fly.
"There are pretty curtains drawn around; the sheets are fine and thin,
And if you like to rest a while, I'll snugly tuck you in!"
"Oh no, no," said the little fly, "for I've often heard it said,
They never, never wake again who sleep upon your bed!"

Said the cunning spider to the fly: "Dear friend, what can I do
To prove the warm affection I've always felt for you?
I have within my pantry good store of all that's nice;
I'm sure you're very welcome - will you please to take a slice?
"Oh no, no," said the little fly; "kind sir, that cannot be:
I've heard what's in your pantry, and I do not wish to see!"

"Sweet creature!" said the spider, "you're witty and you're wise;
How handsome are your gauzy wings; how brilliant are your eyes!
I have a little looking-glass upon my parlor shelf;
If you'd step in one moment, dear, you shall behold yourself."
"I thank you, gentle sir," she said, "for what you're pleased to say,
And, bidding you good morning now, I'll call another day."

The spider turned him round about, and went into his den,
For well he knew the silly fly would soon come back again:
So he wove a subtle web in a little corner sly,
And set his table ready to dine upon the fly;
Then came out to his door again and merrily did sing:
"Come hither, hither, pretty fly, with pearl and silver wing;
Your robes are green and purple; there's a crest upon your head;
Your eyes are like diamond bright, but mine are dull as lead!"

Alas, alas! how very soon this silly little fly,
Hearing his wily, flattering words, came slowly flitting by;
With buzzing wings she hung aloft, then near and nearer grew,
Thinking only of her brilliant eyes and green and purple hue,
Thinking only of her crested head. Poor, foolish thing! at last
Up jumped the cunning spider, and fiercely held her fast;
He dragged her up his winding stair, into the dismal den -
Within his little parlor - but she ne'er came out again!  

  I don't remember hearing this part:
And now, dear little children, who may this story read,
To idle, silly flattering words I pray you ne'er give heed;
Unto an evil counselor close heart and ear and eye,
And take a lesson from this tale of the spider and the fly.

Then the other poem was:

THERE WAS A LITTLE GIRL
There was a little girl,
And she had a little curl
Right in the middle of her forehead.
When she was good
She was very, very good,
And when she was bad she was horrid.
[she stopped here emphasizing the word horrid]
One day she went upstairs,
When her parents, unawares,
In the kitchen were occupied with meals,
And she stood upon her head
In her little trundle-bed,
And then began hooraying with her heels.
Her mother heard the noise,
And she thought it was the boys
A-playing at a combat in the attic;
But when she climbed the stair,
And found Jemima there,
She took and she did spank her most emphatic.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW

I remember the feeling of being happy at the first part about being good and then feeling guilt at the part about horrid.

Guess little girls weren't supposed to have fun like boys in their play.  :x

Discounted Girl

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Fairy Tales
« Reply #7 on: November 21, 2004, 09:55:50 PM »
I was exactly 8 years old when I read Little Match Girl -- and I even copied the whole story in a notebook. I would sit and cry and cry and read it over & over. I had forgotten about that.

flower

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Fairy Tales
« Reply #8 on: November 21, 2004, 10:45:17 PM »
Oh yeah and when my mom recited that first part of "There was a Little Girl", she  took her finger and twirled it around my hair on my forehead, spoke very soothingly and really personalized the poem towards me and then she got to the word 'horrid' and spoke with great disgust and really personalized that part toward me too.  I shudder at the thought now.