Poetry Blogs (Aug 2015)

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part 2 (08/31/2015)

smoke spiralling toward a retired ceiling fan
long exhausted, still spinning
over shaded stucco,
worn and grey as home.

I'm remembering black lipstick, eyes locked
far away, at the peak of a phantom cathedral roof 
built so much higher than this apartment
in a space between the cracks,
in a place of sunken, silent ships,
queued onwards and thru sonic trances
as the thought of midnight da...

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Also by Zach Dafoe:

ether shuffle prayer (8/30/2015) | motel (8/23/2015) | karaoke 3 (08/21/2015) | afterthought 2 ( | lucky lager shuffle (08.16/2015) | Ray Charles 0414 (08/11/2015) | Scott Peterson 2049 (08/09/2015) | first will prompt (08/09/2015) | why i don't mow my lawn (08/06/2015) | Ray Charles 2428 (08/05/2015) | echolocate (08/01/2015) |

horsekiller daisy cutter heroin dreamscape

dry drowning

The day suffocates my soul

Each minute sends me further

The more I fight the harder my body fights back

Good things happen but I am blind

The only thing I hear is silence

Faces pass, I smile back only out of habit

My body has learned how to pretend

But my mind will never grasp the concept

My heart aches constantly

It pushes against my rib cage

It is a prisoner trying ...

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Winter Fly

entry picture

What good does it do to complain?

The fates are blind to all of us

Look at the winter fly

Dead upon the sill.


This morning I swept away three more

Their bodies still intact just their tiny souls departed,


Like cars abandoned on the roadside

In a film about the end of times.


Sometimes it’s as simple as that,

The best years of your life

Defiled against a...

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Also by Tom Harding:

Kitchen |


entry picture







In sleep
To write down
Pen and paper
Hope to inspire someone


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I decided on a hair-cut

Nothing fancy

A £7 trim


‘TONY’S’ was two minutes

Around the corner


When I stepped inside

He was leaning back against

A sink

Filing a nail


It was just after 9:30

And I was his first customer


He bid me sit down

Cloaked me

Before spraying my head

With water


He began to comb and

Snip away


I glanced...

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Also by mike watts:

Nothing |

Attention to its grotesque faces


A ship sustaining
A tiny crack or thick
Is destined to sink,
Awaits the same story
A pilferers-leached country!

All the grotesque
Faces of corruption—
Task procrastination
What is more inefficient
Resource utilization—
Must not go out of
A developing
Nation's radar,
Expected corruption to bar
In its bid  to spur
The ship of development...

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Also by Alem Hailu G/Kristos:

Great Tiding | Think before you ink! | Don't be a sheep in a goat's age | Newton Fourth Law | To win or to remedy? | (untitled) | The survival of the slickest |

Corruptiondeveloping countriesjob placement by political affilation the emerging

brooks hatlen

I used to work in a car body shop

In Holloway

We specialised in top of the range cars




Now anyone who knows Holloway

Will automatically know

That if you drive a nice car

In Holloway

You are a drug dealer

Or you are lost

The place I worked

Was directly opposite

The women’s prison

And the saddest thing

Was the ladies who were let out


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Also by Stuart Buck:

push | fun house | the poet dies | wings | hokey cokey | sonnet | qwerty | kirigami | switch (for michelle) | stung | 30 | lost | swallowtail | Haiku Selection | a rich vein of form | Mayfly | Ctrl B | Ladder | Brenda #2 | spaghetti junction | II | sterile (i am not) | I | 10,000 lux | £1 | pang | Arlo #1 + #2 |


entry picture

My friend Terrence

was a little happy sole,

he didn't need a kennel,

nor a house or a hole.


His home was a shell

that he carried on his back,

so that all he had to do

was drop down on the track.


Then he'd pull his head inside,

followed by his legs and feet

and he’d look inside the fridge

for something tasty to eat.


If it started raining

or got ...

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children's poetryfunny poemhappytortoise


"there's good news and bad news

which do you want first?" 

                 "I'll have the bad news."

                Thus        Murdoch became rich on human weakness

sad but true that this philosophy is cheap to run

like an old friend clapped out expecting little.



(well it wouldn't be cheap 'cause it's special)


with bad news you can...

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Also by ray pool:



Man made, masonry maze
So distant from our base
Open heart and an hourly haze
An everchanging face

Years would take to see each square
And elsewhere are our years 
One could be a long affair
Rest stay behind the ears

Or perhaps with perfect planning
Not all but many fit
Squinted eyes and vision panning
A few could see you sit

Wonder where to place the blame
The picker of our len...

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But I! Neither a product of love nor pleasure

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The collection of Frida Narin's poems are not a nostalgic work; the past is not in the habit of painting romantic pictures. The boarders in Narins poems, from north to south and from east to west, are not lines separating humanity. The flags in the collection of Narins poems are not raised to separate the people of the earth from one another. These flags must be sown to create a carpet for childre...

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On some nights I miss you so much I want 
 to perform a lobotomy on myself. Remove 
 the image of your shoulders against his 
 from where it is lodged inside of me, burn 
 all your pretty words from my frontal lobe 
 so that the next time I see you, everything 
 will look like static. It is all heartbreak, 
 dragging my quiet body home and trying 
 to remember the last time I felt this alo...

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Also by Ameeracle:

(untitled) | Was for her |

Jazz Record cut off half note

entry picture

Looking back in hindsight
I wonder how some
Of my ex girlfriends
Would have handled me
Getting diabetes

Sian who lived with her wealthy parents
And who kissed me with a desire 
Beyond her tender years
Would have resented my inability 
To keep running down to London.

Helen would have sat in front 
Of her ever increasing cocktail bar
And have said what the hell
Can you drink now

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Also by Andy N:

Collaboration in memory | Autobiography |


Along the long and winding road

You’ll reach a spot where paths will cross

There you know not where to go

For either leads to unfamiliar ground

You’ll never know where they may lead

Unless you choose to follow it

But know that you may never know

Where the other could have taken you.

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yawn yawn


yawn yawn

woke up early

empty head

out of bed

slip on some socks

stare at the screen

shutters still closed

not ready for the world

putting off looking at that unfinished piece

yawn yawn



©Colsibabes 2015


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The Voyage of Edwr

The days of feasting and hunting seemed unending:
The seasons passed: the hart in the woods bred
And reared its young year on year,
We ran after them, the spear sang a song
of whistling death. We joyed.

We painted on the walls, drank mead,
The feast-hall lit by dancing flame on flame
Chewed the meat, swallowed, wiped gravy off our lips
And threw the dry-sucked bones on the midden.

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Brodick Seafront | Weather Forecast | Building Sandcastles With Sir Iasac Newton |




     We ventured in for ten minutes,

Our little circle of Globe Trotters and SAS Sigs,

But there was no life,

     Just acrid tobacco smoke

And stale alcohol,

But the Rebel MC was having none of it;

A Newcastle Pub dead as a dodo

And nowhere to go-go!


     So we pissed what we could

And let fly a dance,

And before we left the whole

Pub was in trance...

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Also by Noetic-fret!:

Adventurous, Forthright, Calamitous, Old! |

The Calm

entry picture

Three more rain drops beat

Staccato, full stops, to leave

A promise on the wind:

The storm will soon begin again.




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Also by James Roper:

Short and Sweet | A Passing Thought at 5AM |

short poem

Smart Little Johnny

entry picture

This story happened in one school 
But … for God’s sake, keep cool,
it can't be taken as a rule.
Once when a teacher of math fell sick
A teacher of physical education came, named Nick.
He wanted to show how intelligent he is,
So he said: Solve my problem please!
-A car moves at a high speed.
To go to Spain a plane I need.
Can you tell me my age
If I read a book on the last page,
a pea...

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Also by Larisa Rzhepishevska:

Smart Little Johnny | Smart Little Johnny | Humor | Humor | Elijah The Prophet | Elijah The Prophet |



You'll have to have been where the mail doesn't drop

Or where the papers and TV don't find you

To be unware of "black man shot by white cop"

Ad infinitum - just to remind you.

But the absence of the following has my mind in a whirl

"Black man shoots white TV news girl".


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Also by M.C. Newberry:



Heading down 395

With a head full of gold rush stories

An eye full of mountain ranges

And a gut full of the first solid food ingested 
In days,
The dirt on my fingers is starting to taste
Of a memory I was born so far after collecting,
And I wish things were harder.
I dream of another good work day,
And when the check comes.
And how "hard" I tell myself things are now...

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Also by Corr Lens:

Security I Guess |

May It Be

entry picture

May it be that you and I
Spend an eternity together
May it be that you and I
Live and Laugh forever
May it be that you and I
Live happily ever after
May it be that you and I
Always start a new chapter
May it be that you and I
Love the way we smile
May it be that you and I
Walk 500 miles
May it be that you and I
Hold each other tight
May it be that you and I
Always know when to fight

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Also by Granger:):

Today |

lovelove and romanceRomance


This bad kid 

good kid thing
I don't get 
The bad kids want 
to be good
The good kids want 
to be bad
What the bad kids want 
the good kids got
Except they don't understand 
except maybe for 
the want
What the good kids want 
the bad kids got
Except they don't understand 
Except maybe for
the need
And what you folks 
don't get 
however much 

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Over cheap wine, where you might as well have offered me white vinegar

The smell assailing me but drowning out your bull crap

Steepled fingers as you waxed eloquent. Intellectual, some?

And your yarns about poetry and form and structure

The candle flickering, what a waste of a good candle

I could have put it to better, use, mmm

Nice and thick

But you drone on, buzzing, humming...

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All the faith carried in your soul
all the morphine lightening the load
they play a strange sad game
they lie in bleak dark ways

I listened to the doctor speak
while you read some ancient tome
and, yes, you know your body well
but pain isn’t the cause

This belief takes its small toll
the colour and the hope both drain away
defeatedly you feel you’re fading

But you’re not fading

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I’m going to write a psycho-list,

A peloton that’s better missed

Those Lycra clad with ugly shapes

Untrained unwanted jackanapes.


At two abreast and six ranks deep,

It’s up the hills they weave and creep.

They think they are the public good,

But only serve to boil the blood.


Of course they have a right to be,

But so again has little me.

They p...

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Burnham Beeches with Anna, 1985

entry picture

the sadness of sundays
even amidst
the various
reds, yellows, browns and golds
of stormy autumn

and as I walk
I have in mind
the fragility of a veined

and who am I to resist
this child's
every imperative?

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The Wonderful Irony

Come gather around you good people,

As I tell you this little story,

I warn you, it's a bit gruesome,

Because it concerns a hand of glory,

Which was a body part from a hanged man,

The jailor would sell it for the highest bid,

Bought by one versed in the secret arts,

(The next verse tells you what they did).


They dried it out and then embalmed it,

Muttering words of ...

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Also by Ledger de la Bald:

The Spider In My Beard | You'll Be Old Yourself One Day | The Turd | ...And Along Came Jeremy | South Sea Island |


entry picture

(Someone far cleverer than me wrote the title as a 5-word summary of how foreigners view the English - an old post)


I never cease to be surprised while we're on holiday

At the number of occasions that a French waiter would say,

“Hello.  What can I get you?” in perfect Ang-a-lais

How did he know so quick that we were English?


While you're shopping in the mall you see a fami...

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Also by John Coopey:

THE VERGER AND THE MAGISTRATE | Happy 35th Wedding Anniversary | WHAT DON'T I KNOW ABOUT CRICKET? | IT'S NOT 5-0 IS IT NOW, GLENN | QUI ES IN CAELIS (...who art in Heaven...) |

I Need a Friend

I need a friend,

Someone that wouldn't need my words to know something was wrong,

My body is weak from being strong,

I want to lay down my broken and lost thoughts,

I've lost track,

Of tears that I've forced to keep in, awaiting the second I get home to let them fall,

I need someone that would see past this wall,

The wall I've spent a year building up.

I can be surrounded b...

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Can I remember my   password; sorry I meant are the frozen peas still in my bag


Mushy I am


I leave bank cards in a supermarket pay out tills

The whole of Wirral is riding round on bus passes I leave


Mushy I am


Droplets of my money

Are rolling down your street


I type in endless passwords

All wrong of course

I’ve given my bank pin number

To a te...

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Also by David R Mellor:

Just a bit part in life’s big movie screen | We Can’t Corby wrong | It’s 1979 again | The Big Picture | I HATE YOU, FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART |

Mr Glen Coe

~~Standing proud
He hangs out
With the clouds
Absent without
From the skies

Who surround him
Like the remnants
Of a Cuban cigar
Well received

He checks his
In his still
Covered in
From weathers
Not sent
To calm

He sends
A warning
To his

’Sisters, you
Are about to
Be walked
All over again

In swarms
To escape

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The wordsmith

Is it the destined way of man

To plead to beg

To scratch and scrabble

Clawing through naked earth

Like a desperate hungry animal

To dig down to the very depths

Of all that he holds dear

To snip and to sneer

At his own ability

To watch himself flounder

On jagged rocks

Cut and bleeding

To chip away at every sliver

At every splinter of every letter

Of every w...

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Also by Martin Elder:

Down the pub |

One of Those Days


Trying hardest to dispel

but the feel’s returned


Perfect thought utopia

has tables since turned


Back at a very juncture

bit uncanny and unsure


Strong urge to move on

for an  enigmatic allure


Environs are inhibiting

lackluster same routine


Needs ditching tedium

& explore vistas pristine


Mettle’s taken beating

but the intent s...

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Lactose intolerant

entry picture

"Ignore the unfounded rumours

of pus- in your milk,

and others

which are also quite scary,"

said the white coated chap

with the clipboard and cap

and the man who's

in charge of the dairy.


words and foto T Carroll

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Also by Tommy Carroll:

Sodden | ...take those lips | Vertices iv | "Oh you are a mucky kid" |

You & I

Isn’t that what it’s always been between us?
Lightning rods taking every hit.

The shock was inevitable.
The passion was undeniable.
You are the bolt of pure energy.
I am the body of water you longed to touch.

we’re deadly.
But by God,
we’re lovely.


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Lost Dove...

Relationships despair,

With thoughts becoming words,

Walls that once stood surrounding,

Now stands in between, mocking.


Restlessness haunts eyes,

Moments of Vows, fires denies

Paths once chosen together,

Now stages reasons for fights.

Reasons found once to stay,

Seems melting away like ice.


Cowardness blinds submission.

Arrogance blinds Love.

Moments t...

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Also by Jojomon:

Love Alley! | Curse, at a Price! |

Paxos (end)

Paxos, with it`s gnarled groves of olives and crazy stone walls, is a goblin island. It leans to the east, as though some giant Titan of antiquity strode across it and tilted it. The ground water is brackish due, it is said, to greedy exploration for oil. One suspects, though, a more tolerant attitude before the project failed..

The `real` town square was the triangle glimpsed through the churc...

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Also by Harry O`N eill:

Corbyn and and the death of Marx? | Paxos (cont) | Little David | (untitled) | Form and function |

A Suitcase in Berlin

“Ich habe noch einen Koffer in Berlin” an old popular song in Germany

A Suitcase in Berlin

I still have this suitcase in Berlin,

It’s stuffed with receipts for comradeship,

Paid for anonymously by hours lived in fear:

Of  betrayal, of interrogation, of the camp,

Of footsteps on the stairs at dawn. I listen

For movement behind the wall of this day.

The hours pass slowly-the ...

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Winning the first Poetry Slam Online interview

entry picture

Poetry Online Slam was created by Bristol based Poet Matt Duggan who won the erbacce prize for poetry in 2015.

You can find out more about Matt here http://www.mattduggan.webnode.com  

Why did I create the Online Slam? I wanted to connect poets from all over the world who wouldn't get to see some poets reading LIVE! Plus, None of that dodgy judging or rent a room Poet B/S. I hope this projec...

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Also by Myriam San Marco:

The Chocolate Poetry Club |

interviewSlamSpoken Word poetry


Forgive me as I dip my pen into blood of the past.

Memories.  Hanging bright as the whitest moon

in my blackened, indecorous thoughts.


I was his lover, his muse, his friend,

his counsel over secret canal side walks.

Both sharp suited, professional by day,

we drove fast through boundaries

into love first after taking vows of never.

Towpath widened into world of champagn...

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Also by Katy Megan Hughes:

Caring through Silence | Residual Haunting |

Katypoetesslovelove poetry

White Candles of Hope

Orange glow

Blinding light.


Black metal

Petrol ignite.


Motorcycle riders

Blooded mess.


Bangkok carnage

Innocent victims.


Lives taken

For what?


Blue bag

Killer bomb.


The shrine

Stays strong.


To remember

Flames return.


White candles

Forgiveness flickers.


An act

Towards peace.


A symbol

Of ...

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Also by Nigel Astell:

Born of Dark Blood | Born of Dark Blood |

For one evil act a million candles are lit for the

The Velvet Conversation


 What do I want? What do I value?

           What do you reject?

 What matters to me? Whose opinions do I heed?

           Whose do you ignore?

 I no longer care what anyone thinks of me,

Or my actions.

           You realize, of course, that you have fixed

           The anomaly of your state:

           You are trying very hard not to care;

           But you do...

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Also by Cynthia Buell Thomas:

Li Po | For her | Two Formal Poems (re-posts) |

Final Excuse for Fetish

entry picture

A perfect excuse to 

Delve into my darkest 
Urges and still come out a saint.
A moment to celebrate and 
Chance fate to find ecstasy 
At the end of the pitless 
To tempt psychosis and paralysis
To find a deep pleasure, 
To be momentarily happy and 
Become who I could only dream. 
I've searched for a reason like this 
My entire life, but ...

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Also by Harvey Williamson-Knight:

Days |

Last one.

Can't believe you didn't add.

Makes life sad.

Back to work on the first,

David makes my life worse.

Shut the window.

That local girl,

Stalked her in your pictures.

Fat face.

Not looked at her baby yet.

Do you want me to look for you?

Message true.


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Also by Miss:

Hurt=Poetry | I blame the parents. | Our lives are all mapped out by our minds. |

Rail replacement bus from Manchester to Bolton

Speaking volumes with their eyes
Before the coach had even left
Let alone hit the motorway

Stabbing words echo deep
Petering on a seat
Tirelessly moaning spray haired

Oxidized in seconds
Climbing walls in a closed space
In a language not yet wrote 

Microfilmed in barely suspended anger
Snow like in a silent explosion 
Observing just one thought 

Just one sentence over and over

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Also by Gray Nicholls:

Heading towards 50 |

Traffic Semaphore

entry picture

Coded in red, yellow, green

Mounted on a pillar so high

Re-painting the urban scene

Directions, displays and drivers 


Gentle lights shimmered,

enough to stop rushing mob

Equating the chances;

for everyone to throb


Speed -bumpers couldn't intervene

Mind was intra-vocal and dominant

Criss-crossing the passersby

Yet my speech was silent


Crimson halte...

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Undefined boy

The undefined boy with his tears torn apart Trying to cope up with his cries With his blood sheded life Made a barrier of darkness in his heart inside Stopped trusting those crowdy greedy eyes Living in d blackened arena of dead perception Broke dose illusive fences of truth ness And gone in laps of never lasting loneliness Coated with humanity daemon emerging inside Tried my best to mak...

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Tableau 4: The Melting of the Ice


Spring-clean, fresh

dressed in flannelette

and floral,

the Snow Queen pales

against her pillow.


Limb-tidy, quiet

in a final contemplation,

seeing neither near nor far

though knowing earth beneath a primal sky

will be the regal destination.


The King rests            

                              gathers strength


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Also by Laura Taylor:

Tableau 3: Tempest | Tableau 2: Night of Years | Tableau 1: Return of the Snow Queen | The Melting of the Ice - Prelude |

Pain and Change


A pain moulded in my heart,
 melancholily deep inside 
A pain I thought 
will never leave me  aside 

Every time I tried to escape
 from the labyrinth of ache
I  remained undone 
from this never breaking chain 

Life is a journey 
filled with many unknown suffering 
It's a series of events 
strung together,forever changing 

I caught up in web,
 of never ending woe and sorrow 

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Also by Unabridge_soul (Tulika):

She |

Show more entries …

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