Against the unknown world

TheFeatheredSleep – a man, a woman, a child, and a transformation


They move together like quicksilver

indisipherable in pursuit

there is such a love in his eyes

her smooth hands cup his mouth

drinking the words he would gush

if they were not pressed tightly, one to the other

locked in an embrace

that gives life

quickening as signature is fluid

when she finds out, she imagines telling her daughter twenty years hence

the story of her conception;

your father and I loved you very much

we lay down by the fireplace, he took me in his arms

from this passion you were forged into life

clay breathed upon, bearing breath and soul

you were wanted, even before you chose

to fill us with yourself

my stomach grew and grew until

it was a tight drum on which to paint

the symbols of your dream


He moved in her, his eyes tightly shut

he thought of other women, he thought…

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Christine Ray – beautiful stitches

Brave & Reckless

We line up the edges

of our frayed hearts

thread a sharp needle

with silken thread

spun from fragile hopes

newfound trust


private smiles

midnight whispers

passionate kisses

We sew slowly


small, neat stitches

smoothing wrinkles

from our fabric

ensuring fit

checking for gaps


going back once or twice

to unsew missteps

correcting as necessary

before finishing a smooth seam

Step back

admire our handiwork

we have created

something fresh

something new

to wrap ourselves up in

on cold nights

tough enough to shelter us

in a storm

a thing of beauty

made from torn edges

and bruised flesh

a new whole

more than the sum of its parts

© 2017 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All rights Reserved

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Inferno – Aurora Phoenix

Aurora Phoenix sets Blood Into Ink afire.

Blood Into Ink

your world is ablaze

you guarded those smoldering coals

steaming hurts and smoking resentments

convinced yourself

you were the watchman

lest a conflagration rise.

you stood in the gusts

intrusions and degradations

eyes shuttered

as if stinging sparks

were of no concern.

you felt the bonfire billow

swallowed bile now volcanic

while Hestia whispered

power surge sweet nothings

that brought your blood to boil.

you exhaled as a dragon

savored the bite of rage

dripped fuel from mangled fingers

threw that Molotov

just to watch it burn.

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Worshipping without words

TheFeatheredSleep – “she is a girl with eyes from the ocean”


A lovely girl

when she smiles it is like the world is rent and light bursts through

she takes my breath away with her thin, flickered wrists and how the tip of her tongue is used as signal

for her mood

no ink permanent enough to score

her mark upon my soul

like first cherry blossom, fragile in the cold, endures

a hundred lifetimes could pass and wouldn’t be sufficient

to show the depth of my attachment to her

two skaters on frozen lake, cutting eights over each other’s traversed shapes

I finish where she starts and begin at her end, to each the other, ascending like fireworks in indigo wash

when I hold her preciously against myself and hear the softness of time pushing past

a pain seizes my courage, to imagine myself without her is impossible

lift my chin, you’ll see her in my eyes, her reflection, her…

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Mirror Images (revisited)

Christine Ray – a difficulty with mirrors

Brave & Reckless

My reflection

and I

do not behave

the way

mirror images


We do not

face each other

one of us

safely contained

in liquid silver pool


we stand

shoulder to shoulder

in an empty room

we do not



in opposite directions

studiously avoiding

eye contact

Neither of us

ready to face








to raw



to acknowledge our hearts



needful things


floating in space

we look at the bare white walls

of this stark prison

of our own design


to see

each other

to recognize

each other

Unable to offer



in these long

aching nights

© 2017 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All Rights Reserved

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Nicole – The wanted someone

Nicole Lyons

I want someone to taste the misery on my lips,
someone to sit next to my shattered self-worth
and feel the possibility of me becoming beautiful.
I want someone who understands that rainy days
and misty nights make for splendid scenery,
and if I could build a home in the middle
of an everlasting rainstorm, my doorstep hiding
in the fog, they would juggle their baggage,
heavier than mine, and burn candles and hang lanterns
from the branches of the trees that line the road
they will travel on their way home to me.
I want someone who understands that everything
I have ever loved, though it all be unworthy,
was worth it in the end, and I want them to remember
fondly our end, long after I am gone and we have
rewritten it so many times that the world’s grandest
libraries could never be quite big enough to…

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In the supermarket – Kristiana Reed

Kristiana Reed brings an anxious vision to Blood Into Ink

Blood Into Ink


Those who wait

watch the vole

with heavy shopping

stumbling hands.

I can’t fight my mind.

I can’t find my card

to pay for the colours

and textures stuffed in a bag.

The hawks behind

step forward

heavy claws which pierce

the supermarket polished ground.

I came alone,

to shop alone,

to pack alone and leave


My hands are now full

with all of these eyes

and false words

falling from my tongue.

I’m finally done.

I finally leave

for the bag to split.

For me to suffocate,

fold up like water

as eyes, hands

and lies come

to my aid

because I’m crying

over spilt milk

and choking

on a thank you.

I found old CBT diagrams I drew to cope with anxiety attacks.

I decided to turn them into poetry instead of painful memories. 


Kristiana Reed juggles writing and teaching English; in both vocations she endeavours…

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TheFeatheredSleep – kaleidoscopicly connected



She said
Don’t be mad
But you have scars on your back
And as the paint of forty dried
I learned something new
You can fall from horses
Even in sleep
Where maybe in absinthe dream we met
By starlight
Yet you know my shape
From other times
When I was not myself

And you
You were always there

A whisper of conscience
A ribbon around my wrist
Falling in equal weight
We are born again and again
Sometimes you are a bird
And I the tree, you the land
To keep watch
Next time
Write your memories for me
In dark pearls
Lost in sand
Coming up as moon
forged in silver trees

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Sugar on My Tongue

Christine Ray – “the fragility of this woman’s heart”

Brave & Reckless

Sappho wrote that words

we leave unspoken

will be wept

If true

soliloquies must rest

like sugar undissolved

on my tongue

I am grateful

for the sun

that comes out

but melancholy is still

an aquamarine tide

that washes over me


flooding my banks

piercing my sea walls

reminding me

of how deeply human I am

of the delicacy

the fragility

of this woman’s heart

© 2017 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All rights Reserved

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