"fay" poems
The young and bold Sir Lancelot
Had shunned the lady of Shalott
And all the swooning maidens, dear.
His heart belonged to Guinevere.
And were she not to Arthur, wed,
She'd have the heart-sick knight instead.
But so it goes, such is the luck
Of sad sir Lancelot du Lac.
When first he came to Camelot
The orphan knight, Sir Lancelot
Did prove his worth to Arthur's Court
In jousting, and such noble sport
And with his charm and courtly grace,
His confidence and handsome face,
He won the heart of Guinevere,
And so he found his heart's one fear.
But so it goes, such is the luck
Of sad Sir Lancelot du Lac.
In tournaments and deeds of arms,
He never fell to earthly harms.
His Lady's scarf about his breast,
He held aloft his knightly chest
And for her honor always strove,
And worshiped her with courtly love.
But she is wed, such is the luck
Of sad Sir Lancelot du Lac.
Beneath a tree, the young knight slept
And one day, four queens on him crept,
The chief of them, Morgan Le Fay.
With magic, they stole him away.
A choice they begged of him to make,
That one of them his heart should take.
But love is strong. They had no luck
In tempting Lancelot du Lac.
When Melegans stole Guinevere
A cart, Sir Lancelot did steer
To reach the hold where she was kept,
Then toward the treacherous knight he leapt.
He bested him with slash and blow,
But to Sir Lancelot's great woe
His Lady simply laughed in jest
And saw no honor in his quest,
For he arrived upon a cart.
Thus, broken was the young knight's heart,
And in a rage he left the place.
He longed just for his Lady's grace.
But so it goes, such is the luck
Of sad Sir Lancelot du Lac.
The young and bold Sir Lancelot
Had shunned the lady of Shalott
And all the swooning maidens, dear.
His heart belonged to Guinevere.
And were she not to Arthur, wed,
She'd have the heart-sick knight instead.
But so it goes, such is the luck
Of sad Sir Lancelot du Lac.
So when he quested for the Grail
He made a promise he would fail.
He said he'd not love Guinevere,
But as he spoke, he shed a tear.
He knew one day their love would end
The table round, and hurt their friends.
So when this promise he did break
The land of Camelot did quake.
For Agrivan, King Arthur, told
His wife did love Lancelot bold
And Arthur sent her to the pyre
To end her sinful love, in fire.
But Lancelot, his queen, did save
And Arthur fell into the grave
And all the knights of Table Round
Were torn apart, could not be bound.
And thus the fall of Camelot
Was caused by one Sir Lancelot.
But so it goes, such is the luck
Of bold Sir Lancelot du Lac.
Nov 6, 2011
Nov 6, 2011 at 9:29 PM UTC
Sitting round the barbecue
there's Paddy, Jeff and me
Mary is on Paddy's right
as happy as can be
Kath is sitting next to Jon
while Chrissy chats with Fay
Paddy passes round the brew
on an orange, plastic tray
Someone grabs a guitar
and begins a happy song
No one knows the melody
but still we sing along
Over comes old Lucifer
his hooves are keeping time
Three hot dogs on his pitch fork
(and one of them is mine)
"I hate to break this up" he says
"the boss is on his way
And if we don't pass muster
then there will be Hell to pay
So put away that beer my friends
and hide that barbecue
Now everyone look miserable
and maybe we'll get through".
A golden light came shining in
as Jesus crossed the room
Paddy swung a pick ax
and I swept with a broom
And Lucifer he cursed at us
and cracked an evil whip
And then a half gone Fosters
went and fell from Paddy's hip.
You could have heard a pin
drop as that bottle hit the floor
Lucifer just shook his head
he knew what was in store
But Jesus Christ he grabbed
that brew and gave a wicked smile
"For an ice cold pint of Fosters
I would walk a country mile"
So the joint again was rockin’
And Jesus lead the way
He said “if it were up to me
I think that I would stay”
Then he downed another bottle
And he said ‘oh by the way,
My dad would not be cool with
this so hold your tongues, ok?"
We never let the secret slip
and all is right and well
And if you’d like to join
us at this barbecue in Hell
Then we have a simple rule
you see, that everyone abides
You can come and go eternally
but religion stays outside.
Nov 4, 2011
Nov 4, 2011 at 2:56 AM UTC
Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!
Rescue my Castle, before the hot day
Brightens the blue from its silvery grey,
(Chorus) “Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!”
Ride past the suburbs, asleep as you’d say;
Many’s the friend there, will listen and pray
“God’s luck to gallants that strike up the lay,
(Chorus) “Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!”
Forty miles off, like a roebuck at bay,
Flouts Castle Brancepeth the Roundheads array:
Who laughs, Good fellows ere this, by my fay,
(Chorus) “Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!”
Who? My wife Gertrude; that, honest and gay,
Laughs when you talk of surrendering, “Nay!
I’ve better counsellors; what counsel they?”
(Chorus) “Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!”
3.3k
Away, ye muses, all away!
Away with songs of finch and fay.
Away the jaundiced sight
That magnifies the firefly’s light
To bonfire bright;
That sets ablaze at once
My musing’s dimly burning lamps;
That ornaments with rhymes
The penury-stricken looks betimes;
That over-clothes the logic – lord
With fancy –swollen words.
Away, the partial love
That ‘boldens Nature to sit above
Her Maker!
This day I fasten eyelid doors,
With absence wax my ears,
With languorous peace congeal
My tongue, my touch, my tears *
That I within may pore
Upon the things behind, ahead,
In the darkness round me spread.
I lock Dame Nature out
With all her fickle rout.
Somewhere here,
In the darkness drear,
I myself with cheer
My course will steer
In the path
E’er sought by all:
Its magnet call
I hear.
Not hear, not here,
Apollo would his burning chariot steer;
Nor Diana dare to peep
Into the sacred silence deep.
Not here, not here,
Not far or near
Can mounts or rebel waves
E’er make me full of fear;
Nor evermore
Their dreadful grandeur to adore.
Not here, not here
The soft capricious wiles of flowers;
Nor swarming storm clouds’ sweeping terror,
Dishevelling the trees
And light-haired skies;
Nor doomsday’s thunderous roar,
Dismantling earth and stars-
The cosmic beauties all to mar –
Not Nature’s murderous mutiny,
Nor man’s exploding destiny
Can touch me here.
Not here, not here:
Through mind’s strong iron bars,
Not gods or goblins, men or nature,
Without my pass dare enter.
I look behind, ahead –
On naught but darkness tread.
In wrath I strike, and set the dark ablaze
With the immortal spark of thought,
By friction-process brought
Of concentration
And distraction.
The darkness burns
With a million tongues;
And now I spy
All past, all distant things, as nigh.
I smile serene
As I expose to gaze.
In wisdom’s brilliant blaze,
All charms of the Hidden Home Unseen:
The Home of Nature’s birth,
The planets’ moulding hearth,
The factory whence all forms or fairies start,
The bards, colossal minds, and hearts,
The gods and all,
And all, and all!
Away, away
With all the lightsome lays!
Oh, now will I portray
In humble way,
And try to lisp, if only in half truths,
Of wordless charms of Thee Unseen,
To whom Dame Nature owes her nature
and her sheen.
3.1k
Fay stood next
to Baruch
in the Square
have a ride
if you like
on my new
blue scooter
he had said
so she did
with one foot
placed firm on
the scooter
the other
pushed away
the hard ground
moving on
the scooter
hands gripping
the rubber
handle bars
and she sensed
air in her
face and hair
moving fast
Baruch left
behind her
in the Square
he thinking
how happy
now she was
moving on
over ground
other kids
shouting out
faster Fay
and she did
as if all
pent up fears
had gone bang
and had then
disappeared
get off that
Jew's scooter
her father
shouted out
and she turned
and the fears
all returned
she got off
the scooter
handed it
to Baruch
all joy gone
happiness
had dissolved
her father
gripped her hand
hauled her off
looking back
at Baruch
hatefully
but Baruch
merely smiled
his contempt
his green eyes
or hazel
as some said
shooting off
those arrows
pretendingly
in the ****
of Fay's strict
catholic
father but
to Fay he
blew to her
from his palm
the unseen
pink kisses
of concern
then she'd gone
up the stairs
to her fate
a lecture
against Jews
murderers
of Jesus
he will say
or worst still
punishment
a beating
to enforce
his strict will.
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 3:01 AM UTC
her words formed colored dust on
butterfly wings collecting photographs
of green ivy hearts in the wildwood,
delicate valley flowers circling
her hair like verses of hope dappled
yellows, forest greens, daydreams and cream
she found a path in the forest balancing
on the breath of nature silver rings
like lace intertwined with reflections of
grace her own cordial way of handing
out smiles with every hello, slight twirl of
her skirt, I walk past shelves of stories golden
binding each classic manuscript echoing
her name we float down vintage corridors
like rivers dancing to the tune of a fiddle
breathing in deep breaths of autumn
winds beneath the willow canopy sky she found
a path in the forest and the reason to fly.
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 3:14 PM UTC
What's that
on your collar Sutcliffe?
O’Brien said
you got some
amorous sweet girl Eddie?
Danny D said
what is it?
I can't see
Eddie said
lipstick
I said
red stuff
where where?
he said
pulling at his white
shirt collar
with the red lipstick mark
he opened his shirt collar
and pulled it downward
how'd that get there?
he asked
your cousin still
staying with you
is she Eddie?
Danny said smiling
no not her
not that bucktooth *****
Eddie said
it must have been
my mum
she insists on
kissing me
before school
can't bring herself
to kiss your spotty skin
so kisses your collar
Danny said
she must have missed
Eddie said
how do I get it off?
who with?
O’Brien said
I ask that question myself
who's the lucky girl
what you talking about?
Sutcliffe said
how do I get
the lipstick off?
God knows
Danny said
soak it salt maybe
I said
but now
how now?
Eddie said
we walked on
toward school
Eddie rubbing
at his collar
with a greying handkerchief
that's the last time
she's going to kiss me
Eddie said
the red lipstick had smeared
more like a stain
it's worse now
I said
looks like a wound
thanks
he said thanks
you did it
not me
I said
what am I going to do?
can't go to school
like this
go home and change then
O’Brien said
I can't my mum's
gone to work
he looked at us
all tearfully
it's just lipstick Sutcliffe
no one's going to care
Danny said
of course they will
he said
especially Thompson
you know what he's like
he'll have out front
for a right pasting
if he sees me
come back to my place
I said
my Mum'll put it
into soak
and you can wear
one of mine
you'll be late
Danny said
you go on
I said
we'll get a bus
we can make it
if we run
O’Brien looked at me
you're all heart Benny
all heart
so Eddie and I
ran back to my place
and he took off his shirt
which my mother
put in soak
and he wore
one of mine
and off we rushed
to school on the 78 bus
Eddie all wide eyed
and I saw Fay
going to school
with her swaying hips
and blonde hair
and all I could do
was give
a keen eyed stare.
Oct 11, 2014
Oct 11, 2014 at 1:47 PM UTC
Priti Patel's quote on EU migration - whatever it was...
list of common surnames: cropper, cross, crouch,
dabney, dalton, daniels, eads, easton, eccleston,
fairclough, farnham, fay, gardner, garey, garfield,
haight, hanes, hailey, ibbott, irvin, isaacson,
jack, jackson, jacobs, kay, keen, kelsey,
lacey, lacy, lamar, macey, mann, marchand,
neal, nelson, neville... sure pati japati patel -
i'll be an albino in Gujarat
if your play the sitar in a sari;
but your name sounds a bit migrant
revealing, what a weird 'back of the bus'
you seem to stand on -
you want the Mongolians resurrected?
i swear we were being ousted in line
of what Queen Sheba said to Solomon:
'olive skinned throughout the geography
and the unwelcome green men on
sponged-knickers creaming for an ******
a french dessert...'
yes pretty prior, you found home on a
continent when half of the european nations
didn't practice colonial antics -
i guess it's easier to pick on them.
but with a Patel surname you sound british
already, the great experiment worked
the anaesthetic of former colonialism
numbed via recreational Ketamine use
really numbed the skull and jaw mandibles -
i hate, i hate being conscripted into
post-colonial affairs of "why it all failed"
what a waste of the urban hubs of
Manchester or Liverpool -
where once artistic expression thrived -
i hate these post-colonial societies,
it's as if they were castrated en masse,
and they're wondering why no one has a permanent
suntan in scandinavia - maybe the raw herring diet -
cinnamon up your *** magician's trick with
space between fudge of digestion, disappearing trick
but then the cough that blinds you sweetly -
i guess post-colonial nationalism wanted to
listen to non-colonial nationalism -
a former migrant like pretty plated smell
olive skinned exploited inversion of angers
but dunked a footstep into a trip-up
with non-colonial nations -
a bit like the greek bail-out - pretty patel
is a name least likely associated with migration;
you teasing the beast out?
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 9:33 PM UTC
Fay was waiting for me
at the top of Meadow Row
I was on my way home
from school
-I'd walked home
as I’d spent my fare money
on doughnuts that morning-
she looked agitated
her blonde hair
was in two ponytails
her eyes looked red
as if she'd been crying
thought I’d missed your bus
she said
no I walked
I said
what's up?
she took my hand
and we walked down
Meadow Row
walking past
the bomb sites
and the ruins
of other houses
I’ve lost my rosary
she said
I can't find it
what's a rosary?
I asked
a crucifix with beads
I showed you
the other week
O that bead thing
so what's the problem?
can't you buy another?
it was my grandmother's
old one
well buy her another one
I said
I can't she died
last year
well she won't
need it then
will she
I said
she stopped
but Daddy will want
to know why I lost it
and then he'll go off
the deep end
and I know
he'll punish me
and it wasn't my fault
she began to cry
and I didn't know
what to say or do
where do you keep it?
I asked
in my coat pocket
so it's handy
if I want to use it
and it's not there now?
she shook her head
and put her hand
in the pocket
of her coat
is that the coat
you always wear?
she nodded
what about Sundays?
she looked at me
today's Monday
maybe you left it
in your coat you
wear on Sundays
I said
she looked at me
with reddened eyes
of course I forgot
it must be in
my Sunday coat
from yesterday
let's go find out
I said
but what if Daddy's there?
so what?
I said
he doesn't like me
being with you
because you're not
a Catholic
I’ll wait outside
on the balcony
if he is
I said
so we walked up
Meadow row
and crossed over
Rockingham Street
and up the slope
and into the Square
and along to the flats
and up the concrete staircase
to her parent's flat
which was above
where I lived
she knocked and her mother
let her in
and I stood on the balcony
looking into the Square
after 5 minutes or so
she opened the door
smiling and said
it was in my Sunday coat
all the time
and she kissed my cheek
I knew then
I’d not wash
that area of my face
the whole week.
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 4:23 AM UTC
Happy day Maddie Fay
Life is great Maddie Fay
‘Go away Maddie Fay’
Said no one, ever.
Are you gray, Maddie Fay?
You don’t say, Maddie Fay..
Maybe play, Maddie Fay.
Life is good, Maddie Fay.
Are you gay, Maddie Fay
Like they’d say, Maddie Fay
In old days, Maddie Fay?
Life is good Maddie Fay.
Don’t mistake Maddie Fay
For a blank Maddie Fay
Just a baked Maddie Fay.
Life is good, Maddie Fay.
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 11:27 PM UTC
Dear Poet Friends, this short poem was composed during the Summer
of 2010, and posted on ‘Poemhunter.com’. Hope you like it. Thanks.
WHEN YOU CATCH THAT FEVER!
When the body temperature exceeds the normal,
You know you have got the fever on you.
High fever can get you in a delirium,
And even inside the ICU!
One must guard oneself from the Summer’s sun,
Take precaution from exhaustion and heat.
Wear dark glasses and use a parasol,
And sun-tan lotion makes the picture complete.
‘Prevention is half the cure’, is an old saying which
is true!
With cool butter milk and iced lemonades, -
You can keep that heat off you!
Now there is another type of fever, more potent
than that ‘Swine Flu’!
It can strike you anywhere and anytime,
And you cannot take adequate precautions too!
When your heart starts to beat faster, -
And a fever rages all inside.
You get melancholic and delirious, -
When someone calls the doctor by your bedside!
But when no temperature gets recorded,
And the doctor looks all concerned!
For you have caught the 'Love’s Fever', -
Oh, what a lovely way to burn!
-Raj Nandy, New Delhi
(Comments from Fay Slims, a senior & a veteran poet from
Cornwall, SW England:- “Raj, catching that fever is never
avoided by those who have given their heart!”)
Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 9:24 AM UTC
Flames touching the sky
Ashes forming endless smoky deserts
Haters are meant to hate and cry
Beware of this fire
Or else you'll burn your feathers
Sealed lips yet so much to say
Hearts filled with feelings and fear
Everyone here wishes to have a fay
Beware of these liars
As their hearts for you are not Crystal clear
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 5:21 PM UTC
And in a pickle i find myself hard pressed to not attempt to impress this one. She seeks it like a lost pack of cigarettes.
It is in her eyes, and it is in her hair. its in her shoulders and its in the way she points her **** She wouldn't say it
in any other way than with the heavy gin soaked breath, faintly and subtly in-between huffs and sighs. She wanted the colour
of her words to match the red of her cheeks. She told me that she had heels cause of me, and i denied that i had anything
to do with it. The way she spoke reminded me of Daisy Fay.
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 12:47 PM UTC
At the back
of the coal wharf
you and Fay
picked up coal pieces
that fell through
the iron railings
and put them
in an old bag from home
Fay looked
at her blackened fingers
and said
if my daddy sees
these fingers
and finds out
what I’ve been doing
he’ll spank me
for sure
you gazed at her
beside you
and said
you can wash your hands
at my place
she looked around
at the bombsite behind you
the evening sun
slowly going down
behind the railway bridge
and nearby buildings
what if someone sees you
she asked
picking up these pieces?
no one worries about this
all the kids do it
you replied
my daddy says
it is evil to steal
she said
you put a black piece
of coal in the bag
and lifted it
to feel the weight
that’s enough
you said
too much
and I won’t be able
to carry it
Fay stood up
and looked around
at the darkening sky
you held the bag
in one hand
and scanned
the area around you
let’s go
you said
and so you both
walked away
from the coal wharf
into Meadow Row
by the public house
where piano music played
and down towards
the flats
where you lived
and after climbing
the concrete stairs
to your landing
you opened the door
and put the bag
by the indoor
coal bunker
and showed Fay
where to wash her hands
turning on
the cold water tap
you both washed
your hands
with the red
Life Buoy soap
her hands near yours
her wet flesh
touching yours
the black water
running away
and another adventure
and another day.
Aug 14, 2012
Aug 14, 2012 at 3:14 AM UTC
"How beautiful are your tents, O Jacob,
Your dwelling places, O Israel!"
Thy children gather,
telescoping generations,
O Jacob, what do thine eyes ascertain.
what history do they memorize?
Coalescing younger star clusters,
disparate related families uniting,
embedding as a single unity,
a star cloud,
shedding a new light,
the astronomers awed, witnesses,
a super-star cluster birthed.
The beauty of thy tents,
thy wealth, O Jacob,
is their multiplicity,
their construct and content.
The web of thy tissue,
bindings, linkages,
what resides within thy tents,
acknowledge, testify, that
the strength of thy issue,
are the Matriarchs,
managers of thy destiny,
mothers of thy dynasty,
The Sarah's, Leah's, the Rachel's,
the Fay's, the Ginger's, the Miriam's
these jewels bedeck, beautify,
brides and bridles of thy tents,
master mistresses of thy dwellings,
without them, O Jacob,
you, but, just,
another desert tribe.
Sep 14, 2013
Sep 14, 2013 at 3:16 PM UTC
Push into my concave
Ripple off your hollow skull
Never met a fond slave
Lookin through a swallow hull
File down for plaster
Skinning clean your mended bone
Bringin down the rafters
Furnace of a heavy home
Call a little blow away to rock yourself to sleep
Soil over forty fay and sow just what you reap
**** the seed of prosper
Four entangled righteous ****
More than you could foster
Still, you might be over hill
Sonny won't you crawl away to somewhen I've not found
Crankin down the bank shaft cause its rollin rollin round
Caught another big one in a dental floss noose
Sell em to the butcher maybe he can get some use
Oct 28, 2016
Oct 28, 2016 at 12:43 AM UTC
We're on a bomb site
behind the tabernacle
looking for some
ammunition for
my catapult
which I carry
in the back pocket
of my jeans
Fay is looking
amongst the debris
of old bombed
out houses
or just area
left where
houses stood
it's a sunny day
holiday time
no school
-makes me happier-
is this one too big?
she asks
I look over
no that's a good one
I say
she brings it over
to where I stand
she holds it
between her
thin finger and thumb
and she drops it
into my palm
I weigh it up
and down then
drop it into
my pouch
-a knotted handkerchief-
she looks at me
her blue eyes
searching me
her fair hair
brought behind
her head in
a ponytail
have you ever
thought about self?
I look at her
self?
I say
what do you mean?
the I of us
what we call me
I look nonplus
and look down
for more small stones
a nun at school
said the I
in Christianity means
the I crossed out
in the form
of a cross
in other words
our self is not
more important
than that I or self
of another
and as a Christian
we should put
the self
of another first
I find a small stone
and pick it up
and finger it
so the cross is
supposed to show
self crossed out?
I say uncertainly
she looks at the stone
I'm holding
yes that's what
she was saying
self denial I think
is what she meant
Fay says
scratching her head
this nun at school
does she ever
tell jokes?
Fay frowns
no not as far
as I've heard
well I could
tell you one
O'Brien told me
but it's not for girls
to hear
not girls
as good as you
I say
Daddy says jokes
are sinful to say
and to hear Fay says
when I innocently
told him one
the other year
a girl at school told me
he spanked me
and said never
to hear or say jokes
ever again
what was the joke?
I ask
shouldn't say
she says
there's only you
and me here
no one will know
if you tell me
except God
and I guess He's
heard it before
I say
she looks at me
her blue eyes
staring
ok but don't
tell Daddy
I told you
she says
I promise not to tell
your old man
I say
well a man took his wife
to the cinema
and as they waited
in the queue
a man in front of them
passed wind
and the husband
said to the man
how dare you
pass wind
in front of my wife
and the man said
sorry I didn't know
it was her turn
I laugh and so does she
and I like how
her eyes sparkle
when she laughs
and her face lights up
like a summer day
then she's looks
at her hands
that was good
I say
but it's sinful
she says
but the brightness
in her face and eyes
didn't go away.
Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 3:01 AM UTC
"WHAT'S this?" I pondered. "Have I slept?
Or can I have been drinking?"
But soon a gentler feeling crept
Upon me, and I sat and wept
An hour or so, like winking.
"No need for Bones to hurry so!"
I sobbed. "In fact, I doubt
If it was worth his while to go -
And who is Tibbs, I'd like to know,
To make such work about?
"If Tibbs is anything like me,
It's POSSIBLE," I said,
"He won't be over-pleased to be
Dropped in upon at half-past three,
After he's snug in bed.
"And if Bones plagues him anyhow -
Squeaking and all the rest of it,
As he was doing here just now -
I prophesy there'll be a row,
And Tibbs will have the best of it!"
Then, as my tears could never bring
The friendly Phantom back,
It seemed to me the proper thing
To mix another glass, and sing
The following Coronach.
'AND ART THOU GONE, BELOVED GHOST?
BEST OF FAMILIARS!
NAY THEN, FAREWELL, MY DUCKLING ROAST,
FAREWELL, FAREWELL, MY TEA AND TOAST,
MY MEERSCHAUM AND CIGARS!
THE HUES OF LIFE ARE DULL AND GRAY,
THE SWEETS OF LIFE INSIPID,
WHEN thou, MY CHARMER, ART AWAY -
OLD BRICK, OR RATHER, LET ME SAY,
OLD PARALLELEPIPED!'
Instead of singing Verse the Third,
I ceased - abruptly, rather:
But, after such a splendid word
I felt that it would be absurd
To try it any farther.
So with a yawn I went my way
To seek the welcome downy,
And slept, and dreamed till break of day
Of Poltergeist and Fetch and Fay
And Leprechaun and Brownie!
For year I've not been visited
By any kind of Sprite;
Yet still they echo in my head,
Those parting words, so kindly said,
"Old Turnip-top, good-night!"
1.7k
We are as stoked as the camp fire
drinking and dancing falling around
throwing our clothes off
our pants to the ground
Then into the sea we go
for some mischief with me
me Jim Stella and Fay
Alex Julie and Dave
Another beach swingers party
oh what fun
with only one rule
not up the ***
It's a right old knees up
if you know what I mean
if you want join us
make sure that you're keen
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Nov 19, 2013
Nov 19, 2013 at 5:11 AM UTC
Today is a Fay to crow about,
it's a crowable sort of day,
For the crows have frightened the scarecrow,
and the scarecrow is running away.
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 5:35 PM UTC
You are a fox, she said.
I looked down and saw that indeed, I was.
Your hair is pretty and red, she said.
I looked behind me and noticed that indeed
The red from my hair was dripping down my bare back
And sliding down my shoulders and forming
Pools of vivid red beside us.
Suddenly everyone wanted to touch my hair
But I began to cry and said stop.
Fay found a frog.
It was green and bumpy and shined rainbow in the sun.
It was actually a toad.
I cried because I thought it might die
And if it died the world would most definitely be over.
I held it and I felt its heart beating in my hands
And I thought there could never be a more beautiful precious thing
Ever
In the entire world
Again.
The heart was beating louder and faster and I couldn’t take it
Until I began to cry again.
Fay came and the frog disappeared.
My heart felt heavy.
My mind went “Hm.”
It went “What should I do now?”
I should eat a cherry, I guess.
So I did.
I ate a cherry.
I didn’t feel satisfied, so I ate another.
Meanwhile Melinda,
My golden haired friend,
and I couldn’t talk because of my purple shirt.
She said, I can’t talk to you while you are wearing that purple shirt.
And I said, Do you want me to take it off then?
And she said, You look like a grape.
And when I laughed I couldn’t stop
and I couldn’t stop stop stop
until I was crying again with my head in my hands.
Then my heart felt heavy again so
I went outside and looked at some trees.
The sun was hot and my arms were getting tired.
But I wanted to get burned.
At nightfall I went upstairs and looked in the mirror.
Makeup dripped down my face and I wanted it off.
I began to scrub.
Dec 25, 2012
Dec 25, 2012 at 1:55 AM UTC
yesterday's afternoon tea party was a hit
there were some rather tasty tid bits
cream cakes chocolate slice and ginger biscuits
they were well received in my stomach's pit
my tea was served in a large crockery mug
in which a little sugar cube did sit so snug
I sipped on it slowly with a grin rather smug
twas such a delight partaking of an Earl Gray slug
afternoon tea parties are my cup of tea
and I so enjoy their wonderful spree
I'm planning another one with much glee
for my cousin Fay and her friend Mrs Bentley
Apr 6, 2013
Apr 6, 2013 at 9:08 PM UTC
Dark curtains struggle against our difference
but she loves a sense of justice that never sleeps
caught out of the light when now I glimpse her face
sending me tearing shadows down in disbelief
I see her dancing nights away in moonshine rays
intoxicated by a love that beckons then slips past me
how much I long to kiss better that shimmering fay
but elusive to my calls embrace a fleeting tricky sky
Hope gathers up her trail in the pure instincts of desire
again and again my seeking hands caress a fragment
the search faltering sadly at her twinkling dressed figure
sure only that my lips could starry press together fate
Then we met standing under a bridge's forgiving side
on a bend with the wind splashing a hot moon over
fusing sought and lashed to hug her pools of eyes
I dry them and replenish.. oh.. how cool is our love
Aug 2, 2014
Aug 2, 2014 at 4:03 PM UTC
My heart in form of a dimminished sword all rusted throu and pitted with age, found entrenched within an anvil upon a stone.
Lonely eons pass me by, awaiting for fair damsels touch from far away fay Avalon.
I sense a presence both near and far, it sets my iron core pulsing deep and strong, to feel life stiring within me once more.
Her touch is all it takes to awaken fully the restored magic and more, to set my heart a gleamming to see me free to be held close.
We quest togeather to slay foul beasts, and right great wrongs of injustice done across the land. To make togeather an epic poem that sings true for generations to come.
The stuff that legends become.
Feb 6, 2013
Feb 6, 2013 at 6:21 AM UTC