Composition of a Woman by Christine E Ray.
Month: July 2018
Marathon
I’m tired. Wondering if this marathon is worth it. There are moments of happiness but these bittersweet, pixie stick, sprinklings don’t make this dead horse I’ve been beating taste any better. I need these motions I’ve been going through to have a sense of novelty, or this tin man is gonna start waving off the oil, and let the tears that always seem to be just at bay flow until the rust sets in. But we are what we do and I’m just a lumberjack who, as a child, dreamt of seeing the stars—thanks to my mom and Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. No matter how fast or hard I chop these baobabs I don’t clear any sky. Even the mightiest of oaks bend to the will of the wind over time. I think that’s how I ended up here. A steady northerly. Now I’m a twisted bonsai on someone’s mantle and I’m trying like hell to drown out the screaming birds that inhabit my tree felling dreams. I’m just wondering if the promise of a new day is adequate payment for today’s indignities—if this marathon’s finish line is worth the effort. So many have went from tired to retired to expired in short order, but that’s the carrot they dangle. Carrots help you see in the dark, which might be the key to dealing with your golden years. I hope, by then, I’ll be able to shake the chill that’s settled in the marrow of my weary bones.
Chaos 101
Chaos 101 by Aurora Phoenix. I think I just experienced a paradigm shift. I’m wonderfully stretched.
the carpet writhes underfoot
teeming with the detritus
of a thousand lurking
cocooned selves.
what say you
gritted, behind furred teeth
in the soiled stomp of a footless sock?
do you revel in my eye roll
as befits your snakebelly
stature?
I read the note you left me
scrawled in wet mayhem
and you giggle as I trip
you sketch me
a blood lipped evil queen
while you hashtag
#self-destruct
napalm all your bridges.
I hold a flame
‘neath the lemon-juiced shreds
decipher the heartsore longing
hurled in domestic anarchy.
Plastic Girl
Plastic Girl by 1Wise Woman. Pummeled by waves and pulled by the undertow…this simply moves you.
Daisy Heir- Nicholas Gagnier
Daisy Heir by Nicholas Gagnier. Strap on your nostalgia goggles! Great piece!
Pushing dandelions in
defiance of dying roses and
their body
count of thorns.
You wanted my final form
like some daisy to adorn and
I could ogle like
neat whiskey and nostalgia
goggles.
Baby, we’re just drunk off old ambience (the taste is God awful).
So pour me your best, let’s ward off the impossible, faults in our Zodiacs and other stars we can hobble with long odds.
One more for
the road, to warm the
bones one becomes as
the underdog of
flora.
In this diaspora of roses, you’re the flower I clutch
closest when I’ve sworn off beauty like booze,
hungover from the human interaction of being given something to lose.
And yeah, I’m pushing the lesser ideal; wild oats over discipline, trading aesthetic for carnal sin,
but that’s the appeal-
true love on a whim ain’t pretty in the morning but you always tell
her she is.
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Sudden Denouement Publishing Proudly Announces the Release of Rachel Finch’s A Sparrow Stirs its Wings
Rachel Finch’s A Sparrow Stirs its Wings. Add this wonderful writer to your summer reading list!
Sudden Denouement Publishing proudly announces the release of Rachel Finch’s stunning book of poetry, A Sparrow Stirs its Wings. Finch is the powerhouse behind the Bruised But Not Broken community on Facebook, which provides support and healing for trauma survivors. She is a symbol of hope and light throughout the world.
“Every now and then, when the world seems to be rocked in chaos and people are screaming without listening – vile words and cries for help climbing on top of and over each other – a single voice stands out, and that voice is pure in its truth and stunning in its wisdom.
Rachel Finch, and her debut book, A Sparrow Stirs its Wings, is that voice right now. Turning her heartbreaking abuse into heart-wrenching prose, Finch writes her truth and gives her strength to every unnamed victim turned survivor.” Nicole Lyons, I Am A World Of Uncertainties Disguised As…
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My all
I could still see
The liquid, blackness
Of the activated charcoal
When she smiled
An ephemeral reminder
That I was simply
Not enough
erichmichaels 