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Elaenor Aisling Sep 2021
My sisters and I jest
That men never get over us.
We have been named
Muses, angels, succubi, leanan sidhe
But we are les belles dames avec merci
And that is their undoing.
Our breath has left them gasping
With unfilled lungs
We never meant to be their oxygen
But they drink us in like drowning men.

We didn’t ask for this,
But disarming, we are soft enough
For them to float in
Belly up, eyes to distant stars
Singing the sirens song that stirs in our veins.

Behind our teeth rests the love
The world has failed to give them till now
There are holds in the knowledge
that our fingertips find the hollowed spaces,
mother wounds, clefts where trust was carved out,
And they clutch our palms to staunch the bleeding.

We never asked for this,
They cherish the brittle changelings of us
until they are crushed in the coals of our eyes
Eggshell ideals, fragile as egos.
Blown by the sea wind in the strands of our hair
they are scattered, undone.

The distance drifts between, inevitable
And full they turn away to starve
We cut the mooring line
After one too many storms,
And search
For safer
Poetoftheway Jul 2020
brown skin farmer girl (this changeling poem)


we are I’ve decided

alike and unlike.

I know, an epiphany.

we are both brown skinned,

the sun has wrested my skin

buried it in dark loamy,

soiled brown side by side,

now alike.

your hair is long(er)

now, mine too.

a cascading mountain ranging,

edging south from your Columbia,

to my  Columbia

over my ears, down my neck,

which like yours, dreams knightly

of being loved by endless kisses,

a prince(ss) charmant


we could not be

more different,

than how god us designed.

but here’s the rub,

people change,

they dream of becoming,

reinventing the original design,

and this explains

not the why, but the how,

how this poet came to write

this changeling poem


and you think we could not be more different and
more alike, and you would be rightly correct.
Robin Goodfellow Jul 2016
Prayers amongst the cold

I saw you there
weaving pretty lies
along edges of night,
with all your hellish plights,
as you lose sight,
of your innocent light.

Prayers amongst the cold
eve of unquiet

I saw you there,
screaming your past regrets,
crying out what needed to be said,
while following the blood you've bled,
as you dye your childhood red.

Prayers amongst the cold
words of forgotten

I saw you there,
with your abandoned sails,
your dreams and everything you've failed,
neglecting the praises you've hailed,
while traveling the icy gales.

Prayers amongst the cold,
for the weeping stories
MelancholicPanda May 2016
I hide my tears
to wipe away yours.
I cry alone,
so your pain cures.

To hold my pain,
and bleed so much more.
Is for your happiness,
to heal your core.

You say such words
to create a divide.
Without the knowledge
of the fear inside.

Words like a blade
slicing me gently.
Eyes staring coldly,
unblinking and intently.

Say what you will
about my care and love.
Know you are wrong,
your ego is high above.

So you can fly away,
leave me here to die.
Understand this heartbreak
can't be fixed by your lie.

My love is still here,
but the trust is forever gone.
Blown away by your swords,
my blood drained and drawn.
This is kind of a remake of "Pain, Betrayal, and Goodbye" that I deleted. I wrote this with a clearer mind and put more effort into make it rhyme. I wrote this while waiting for my bus when I had overwhelming emotions from the day.
SøułSurvivør Jun 2015


mother of a
strange changeling


nurses it upon
her own heart
arterial blood
of deepest crimson
while It
bites the ******


accepts her fate
and allows it to feed
until it is bloated
as a leach


allows this stillborn
to drain her soul till
there is no longer any

joy nor pain

love nor hate

peace nor fear

lust nor frigidity


has named
her child


and she

lets it
drain her

(c) 6/1/2015


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