Listen to Then.wav by Misterkaki on #SoundCloud

It came to him. It was not so novel.

Even so, then, in his mind, 

at least, he knew.

Certainly two things,

clear as the now winter sky.

So much, to give!

Not just that, of the mind,

but heart, touch 

and yes, receptivity.

To receive, then,

when it was good, whole

and in its way a blessing, the gift.

Bringing onto himself, her,

presence, grace, the timeliness

of that sharing, sovereign, queen, joy!

You turn a page in a scrapbook, held.

Slowly, tenderly, smile.

An ongoing adventure, that both joined.

O Seer

One day I will be gone

and you will know then,

how it was

and how it might have been,

but then, will be then

and not now,

before that appointed day,

is now in my eyes.

How so, quickly it passed?

We slid over

and nailed down that lid.

To exclude light, to shun contact,

for what?

Was it all for nought, oblivious gaze?

Of all I behold, of all belief

I might venerate, that,

is not, will not ever, be me,

so closed for little gain.

Not even in the long furrow of it

will you see repose in your bones.

Chill does what it says, 

goes to the marrow.

You will not find enough forest

to roam endlessly,

for kindling and dry block wood,

that would alleviate your stated

and locked down position.

If any wisdom comes,

at all,

it must be that we drop, to ground,

these lofty concepts,

seperation, closeness, distance.

All bounded in some rigid expectation

of each unit, of each others measure.

Be free, it's the only way with any, clarity, sanity.

A little madness we had, o seer.

SoundCloud recital

Eulogy for a Fairy Princess – Christine E. Ray


your words

of sacred poetry

take me back

to the time

before I was broken

before I was rendered

collateral damage

to the war fought

over this body

you wrap me

in a cloak

of subtly

woven language

sing a eulogy

to my

innocence lost

evoke memories of

my heart whole

soul pure


trust intact

this re-membering

of unsullied past

is as mythical

as Santa Clause


but you create

a shape of me

in words

so beautiful

so powerful

with such sincerity

that even I

can see

shimmering outline

of the girl

I used to be

©2017 Revised ©2019Christine Elizabeth Ray – All Rights Reserved

Christine E. Ray lives outside of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. A former Managing Editor of Sudden Denouement Publications, she founded Indie Blu(e) Publishing with Kindra M. Austin in September 2018. Ray is the author of the award-winning Composition of a Woman and The Myths of Girlhood. Her…

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That Still Place

I travelled from the dark,

all the way through.

But yet brought some with me,

additionally your undiscovered country.

There, for the most part

in those days was light,

after a summer of bathing,

your companion, wounds.

Your history, the fabric of your land,

or much, that you laid

at my wet feet, that kitchen table,

I honour.

And in that that I

consider my words,

deeds, my omissions,

your sacred commissions, my death.

Seek I now,

even as late, this evening tide

a place of still repose,

beyondt this life of remembrance,

of you.

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