Poetry Blog by Fae

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that bloody poet on Seen (Mon, 16 Feb 2015 10:58 pm)

jack purvis on Count to five (Sun, 30 Nov 2014 02:03 pm)

Cynthia Buell Thomas on Count to five (Fri, 28 Nov 2014 04:39 pm)

Fae on Textures of shame (Sun, 23 Nov 2014 04:58 pm)

Gray Nicholls on Textures of shame (Sat, 22 Nov 2014 03:40 pm)

Gray Nicholls on Textures of shame (Sat, 22 Nov 2014 03:40 pm)

Fae on Textures of shame (Fri, 21 Nov 2014 01:13 pm)

Andy N on Textures of shame (Fri, 21 Nov 2014 12:43 pm)


Grief is costly and I was broke, 
Not you or him or any bloke,
Could have filled my pot of casting love,
He pulled my purse-strings from above.
That heavy weight of stress I threw,
I shrunk and stole myself from you.
That constant stream of words that played,
For them, a fortune I'd have paid!
I foraged deep for that sweet tune,
But woeful blues, they filled the room.
You wouldn't know the...

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balanceemotional-bankruptcygrieflosslovelove and lossrelationships


She squints and glares, fixed on you
Eagle eyed, she wanders through.
The cries and spiels and sobs you say
Don't connect, are moved away.

Differing the false from fact
The eyes cant play part in the act.
It's them she stacks her frame around
Separating sight from sound.

She wiped a hole and delved down in
Stopped to turn at every sin.
Rooting as your soul projects
With every truth ...

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Count to five

Just a bit of fun...

'Breathe in deep and count to five'
are things that can be done
Especially when you're twenty
And you're living with your mum...

'Move your shoes' 'Comb your hair'
'You can't go out like that'
Mum although I LOVED those times...
I thought we'd got through that.

A time for chats and sharing tales
about my childhood that has been
I fear for you it is the case

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Textures of shame

entry picture

Glass sides tip away the hope of perception and cameras flash away any hint of reflection
at this hub of metal minds and stiff bodies.

This soft grey raven digs for existence among the steel nest of discardment.
Every sip a taste of us, our residue his everything.

Around me, gold fingered bird-watchers with their fogged up binoculors,
tasting their uncessary glory.
Molten pride down th...

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entry picture

Some produce from sleep deprivation...


Eyelids fall and so do we
from this rope a wishful me,
No ground to touch, no cold hard floor
fully circle, no breaks, so sure.

Or is it warm?
Does it cushion the smash?
Cover sharp corners, prevent the thrash?
Then there's the harness
stopping it all,
Those big icey eyeballs
Keeping you cool

I don't want the harness
I just want the fa...

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conflictcuriositydilemmasdreamshopespipe dreamssleep

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