Cricket Song

Van Gogh - Angler und Boote an der Pont de Clichy

By Reprography from art book, Public Domain,

I call out your name, but not in despair, never in despair.  For you are my boy of summer, my sunshine, my days of plenty.

No, I cry out your name with all the radiance of a newly-formed star, with all the glory of a Parisian springtime in bloom, with all the reverence the moon holds for the sun, and he too for her in return.

Why, from the tip of my tongue to the back of my throat, you are there, the wind of change and the flame of eternity melding into one.

From the bottom of my soles to the tip of my head, every nerve singing its song of ecstasy and love, crying out your name, for all the world to hear.

La Fée

©  Odyne La Fée 2018

Long before…

Before comfort there was pain

“Long before I knew comfort, there was pain; a pin-pointed moment filled up with as much as anyone could possibly take, a moment then compounded exponentially by all the subsequent moments that followed.
But eventually, even pain becomes a victim of its own success, and so it too receded into the background, until eventually there was simply… nothing.
Until one day comfort finally came, all alien and new, and infinitely unknowable; I had no other choice but to view it through the lens I had been given, the lens through which every other experience of my short and rather pathetic life had been viewed.
Comfort then, at least at first, was as traumatic, as stressful, and every bit as painful as anything that I had known before.
How long before my brain was capable of asking, ‘Does this really hurt?’ I couldn’t possibly say, for time, a hostage in pain’s pincer-like grip, had become a slippery devil, and seemed as feckless as love itself.
And yet, eventually, my rigid muscles did relax, and my suspicions faded, because at last… at long-last, I’d found someone I could count on.” Cassandra Lethe

La Fée

©  Odyne La Fée 2018

I often wander…

forest trees fog foggy
Photo by Jaymantri on

I was born of the Earth, as much as of any human mother, and yet it was Her bosom that suckled and nourished me as I grew.  And into Her arms I still run for refuge.  The human who gave birth to me had been too distracted by a need to compress as much pain and suffering into a single-point in space and time to ever be there for me.  Let alone nurture me.  But Mother was there.

And though I know Shee was with me always, it was high up in an Alpine Fir where I first heard Her sing.  Out amongst the branches, amongst the pine cones and the bugs, there was Her voice singing, and whispering to me truths that no one else cared speak.  And so I listened, and I learned, for many long and happy years.

I visit Her still, out there among the worms and the ferns, where Her primordial wisdom speaks in whispers, imparting a gentle knowing through Her subtle showing… that tips Her hat in such splendid ways; if only one is watching, and listening, and feeling.

Deep into Her darkness I often wander, alone for hours, yet never lonely, just once again that little girl with twigs in her hair.

La Fée

©  Odyne La Fée 2018

My Greedy Lips

greedy lips 2

My greedy lips have devoured you
from tip to toes, and nip to nose
why, my greedy lips, you never could quite oppose
My needy breath has consumed every drop
of that musty scent of your fear
oh my love, how it made me shiver
whenever it came near
My seedy need has driven me
to depths I’d never thought to plumb
why it beats like a drum, with a thrum…
my seedy, greedy need, driving you to cum…
La Fée

©  Odyne La Fée 2018


An Uncommon Complacency

*Take Hwy 35 north, until it don’t go north anymore…long road.JPG
There’s an uncommon complacency – out here among the trees;
a relaxing of everything – except for those immortal mysteries.
No broadcast news, no corporate control,
only the loons and my fractured soul.
But cast deep within the shadows of this dark-twilight wood
is a secret no man has ever understood.
For a secret language lingers here
yet it’s only whispered into the feminine ear.
For this is where the Goddess dwells
and by her Grace I’ve come under her spell.


La Fée

©  Odyne La Fée 2018

The Yearning

There’s a longing on your lips, that reminds me of home;

but there’s also that reticence, that hesitance, that trembling deep in your bones.

Why, it lingered there at first kiss, and all through pain’s serpentine hiss.

There’s an aching in your belly, twisted up with angry fists,

a fire, an ember, a growing need that’s getting harder to resist.

And then suddenly there’s the quaking, and the shaking, and the god and heaven forsaking,

then a rupture, a fissure – cleaving its way like liquor only quicker.

And your brain is getting thicker

with the longing,

and the aching,

and the mad

and desperate


And always the yearning…

the yearning…

the yearning…


La Fée

Antithesis of Death

soldier stare
I’ve seen the death you cradle in your eyes, and I know that nothing can soothe its god-awful cries
A phantasm longed for, yet repulsed just the same, it’s the darkness that brings only loneliness and shame
This hunger for blood, this hunger for pain, why it’s the demon that drives you out into the pouring rain
Yet there is a place where death goes to die, a place where a man can face all that he’d deny
A darkness as natural as the roots beneath your feet, a darkness filled with the sweetest of heat
And here in its womb you’ll find a natural fit, the antithesis of death, this primordial split


La Fée

Blade of War

*Photo Credit: Danny Quirk (De)Facing P.T.S.D.

Danny Quirk - (De)Facing P.T.S.D..png

I have woken into darkness; a part, not unlike the whole,

yet still wholly lacking, even cracking, yet never slacking, despite the shackling.

I woke to bitter tenderness; just another victim in this vast wilderness of war,

these endless, ceaseless hostilities that bury me though I still breathe.

And into this vast ocean of empathy I sink, and seethe.

Because there is nothing they can do for a part, never again to be made whole;

indelible, immutable, irrefutable blade of war

now shattered and broken, a pile of pieces upon the floor.


La Fée 2014

What Pain

kneeling man - perfect

What pain lies beneath

that molten lava twisting in your eyes?


What pain is it

that draws from each breath

a cacophony of sighs?


What anguish is it

that beckons me like a siren,

pulling me from my icy grave,

my upturned stone,

my pirate enclave?


Why must I crawl out upon this land,

some terrible plight,

some heinous rite?

Or is it just a man who’s forgotten how to stand?


Why now, crippled in pain, do you come

upon your knees,

if not to cauterize a wound that’s begun to rot,

if not to once more see the man

the world forgot?


La Fée