‘TIS THE NIGHT OF THE WINTER SOLSTICE by Donna Gwinnell Lambo-Weidner. This should be the mantra for the coming year!

‘Tis three nights before Christmas, the day after Hanukkah, eight from St. Lucia, and five ’til Kwanzaa. ‘Tis two months since Diwali, India’s festival of light, as Sun settles into our world’s longest night. A breeze hugs the mountain, nudging daytime to eve, while an unkindness of ravens and a hawk take their leave. Observing […]

via ‘TIS THE NIGHT OF WINTER SOLSTICE — Donna Gwinnell Lambo-Weidner

Figments of a Mania – Henna Sjöblom. If art is supposed to make you feel uneasy…Henna is a true artist. Another spectacular poem found at Sudden Denouement!

I saw her in the dark of my eye stretched out on a polyester blanket, puffed-up cheeks and threads of pink bubblegum stuck to her hair the /maggot-eaten/ stockings barely covering up the /cigarette burns/ along her legs riffles trough the pages of the /holy/ bible, decides she doesn’t have time patient may sometimes […]

via Figments of a Mania – Henna Sjöblom — A Global Divergent Literary Collective

A Sliver of Silver – Nicole Lyons. This poem by Nicole at Sudden Denouement made me understand why wolves howl at the moon.

I always made sure our house was clean even though we never were. And I always made sure the moon had a sliver to peer into, a little slat between the pavement and my pillow where she would feel welcomed to lay her silver smile upon our sleepless nights and find us charmed enough to […]

via A Sliver of Silver – Nicole Lyons — A Global Divergent Literary Collective

Aakriti Kuntal: This is the end. This poem at Sudden Denouement makes you almost long for heartache.

We want to reach out. But baby here, now, this is the end. We know, we know ‘ the end ’. We’ve lived inside it. Slept. Slept. Inhaled. Creatures of absence. Your eye is an alien being. It alone sings. A rotating rim. Continuously revolving in the hemisphere’s strange music. I look down. My feet […]

via This is the End — A Global Divergent Literary Collective

Lois E. Linkens: i checked myself. A great poem on expression and art for its own sake, from Sudden Denouement.

i have checked myself and seen that i am nothing; the bones of poets gone and done lay beneath the hills. i put on my boots and took my shovel, for to disturb them would be a lesser crime than to ignore.i checked myself and saw that i was nothing; i looked for art and saw it slither into bank accounts in dead […]

via i checked myself — A Global Divergent Literary Collective



We’re all in a state of continual decay

Casting off neutrinos, alphas and betas

Dander and forgotten moments of yesterday

Fluttering to the floor is what their fate is

These motes of us become tomorrow’s dust

These particles dance in shafts of light

Thanks to wanderlust everyone breathes in us

Adrift on thermals we finally take flight

Look around now at all that you’ve collected

Owned and used by you or simply meddled

You are what you hold AND what’s rejected

A feather duster to clean on what you settled

Notes On A Suicide by Hemingway – A.G. Diedericks. A very introspective piece on self esteem and imposter syndrome.

The cosmos misplaced me left me to meteor into this zeitgeist of insipid distractions Where i roam as an anachronism under the city of lights in pursuit of remnants from Lutetia with nothing but a pen & piece of paper to live on Problem is I’m not a poet Let me tell you how i […]

via Notes On A Suicide by Hemingway – A.G. Diedericks — A Global Divergent Literary Collective



I travel this world widdershins

My head cocked to the side


A confused mongrel

Trying to make sense of it all

Fingertips grazing all within reach

Like a blind man

Feeling for the inherent

A sign from the universe

The velvet rope of an exclusive club

The rust-pocked surface of a mailbox

The wispy hair of a newborn

The roughhewn marble of a tombstone

The shingled roof of a vacant doghouse

The smooth, sloped hood of a camaro

Dust covered, satin ribbons of pointe shoes

The latched, leather bound, diary cover

Just when I’d given up on divining verity

I run my fingertips across my stubbled cheeks

Tracing the trail of tears

I blow the sawdust off

This sequoia stump

With my damp fingers

I place my thumb

On the ring of your birth

Stretching my pinky out

To the ring of your passing

Lifting my hand I see two dark circles

Two simple dark circles

That hold within the span of your existence

I place my thumb on my birth ring

Lie down on the enormous stump

My pinky hanging out into the nilspace

I straighten my head the forty-five-degrees

And close my eyes…

BECAUSE I’M A WHORE WHO ASKED FOR IT – by Kindra M. Austin at Sudden Denouement. This pulls no punches.

I quite like the dark side, dear. Show me your shadows, those Phallic phalanges, and Feel up my female. I quite like the fusty spoors of Spirits, and semen, and plundered Blood Fixed to my skin. I quite like the emptiness settled in the pit of me— The sharp taste on my tongue […]

via BECAUSE I’M A WHORE WHO ASKED FOR IT – Kindra M. Austin — A Global Divergent Literary Collective

Curtain call


A stage



A spotlight

Center stage

A woman enters from stage left

Standing at center

She smiles

Her hand covers her mouth demurely

She lets out a quiet, little giggle

Quickly reigning it back in

Her lips curling at the corners

Lower lip quivering

She lets out a long, full-bellied laugh

As it begins to trail off

A floodlight comes on

The entire stage behind her is filled

Men and woman of all types

They join in, in the laughter

At times it’s deep and throaty

At others it’s shrill and cackling

It moves to a crescendo

When the original woman lets out a snort

Everyone falls to dead silence except her

She snorts out, once or twice, into the silence

Embarrassed, she stops and hides her face

The floodlight goes out

Her body shudders

Slowly her hands lower to her sides

Her hands tighten into fists which shake

She lets out a guttural scream

Gravelly and tearing at the throat

The floodlight comes back up

Now the stage is filled

Women on the right and men on the left

The women join in the screaming

They focus their vocal assault on the men

Fists shaking and feet stomping

The men cover their ears as their lips snarl

The women’s screams die out

The original woman holding her scream

For a couple seconds longer than the rest

The men lower their hands from their ears

Bending at the knees the men crouch low

From deep within a growling grows

As they rise the growl becomes a howl

Arms flailing about and muscles flexing

When the howling dies out

The men cock their fists back in unison

The women fall to the stage

Holding their hands up defensively

The floodlight goes out

Leaving the original woman alone

Shielding her face with her hands

Her body begins to shake

She lets out a low moan of pain

Shuddering to take in air

She builds to a long, soulful vibrato, moan

The floodlight comes back up

Only women are on stage behind her

They join in the chorus of wails and moans

This crying moves in waves

Quietly whimpering to sobbing to shrieking

As it builds to a crescendo the women fade

The floodlight dims to black

Leaving the original woman still lying at center

Her shuddering slows until she is motionless

Lying supine she is silent and still

An area light comes up

It reveals a casket

She looks over her left shoulder at the casket

Her body begins trembling

She cries quietly

She picks herself up and goes to the casket

She stands at the side of the casket

Still quietly crying

She lifts the upper lid and peers inside

Her low crying and body’s shaking builds

The crying’s staccato seamlessly transforms

We find her beginning to laugh

She throws her head back

Belting out a full-bodied guffaw

She climbs inside of the casket

Still laughing

We can no longer see her as she sinks in

Her laughing becomes a chuckle

Finally she lets out a snort

A pause of silence and another snort

Her hand rises from within the casket

Another snort and the hand slams the lid shut

The area light fades to black