Another amazing writer at the Sudden Denouement Collective.
The editors of Sudden Denouement Literary Collective know that our strength is our writers. We hope that you enjoy getting to know them through our new Writer Interview Series.
What name do you write under?
In what part of the world do you live?
I am currently living in a small seaside village called Whitby, in the North East of England. Whitby is a charming and beautiful little place – little changed in 850 years – with narrow winding streets, ancient buildings, a ruined Abbey on the cliffs and wee cobbled roads – as well as long beaches and the power and majesty of the sea, which crashes over the town during storms or is as still as glass when calm. Whitby also has connections to literature – Lewis Carroll stayed here a few times, but more famously Bram Stoker was also a visitor and set much of…
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Untitled by Daffni Gingerich at Sudden Denouement. Hauntingly beautiful, like the moment you finally drift back asleep…after waking from a nightmare.
On the edge of the room his hands tighten around my neck. That is when I have so much to say. Finding words is a fragile thing for me. And when my eyes cross everything flits away along with my energy. I am silence. Death taunting him for just a sip of his…. The race. The cow on her side swollen still milking. Drained with history. With talks of saving the world. I feel my eyes twitch behind the lids. I see the men I’ve danced into the bedroom for proof. For proof of my existence. I exist I exist I EXIST. Then I don’t. Not anymore. Not lifefull or lifeless. Silenced. Floating. Not suffering/just quiet. And when they apply the straps to hold me down my heart pounds speak speak speak. Valium- 10mg administered at 2:45am by TJ. speak speak speak. Valium- 10mg administered at 3am by TJ Restraints applied-…
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I Aint No Damsel by Christine Ray at braveandrecklessblog. Powerful! A veritable force of nature reading the world the riot act!
You have mistaken me
for a damsel in distress
waiting for the handsome prince
to come rescue me
slay the dragon
You seem to be under the mistaken impression
that I have no backbone
that previous violations of my boundaries
as a girl child
has left me spineless
You appear to be implying that I am looking
for the right man to come and save me
from my darkness
lead me lovingly into the light
away from the broken thing
you seem to feel I am
You seem to believe that when I write
about my sexuality
that this actually has something to do with you
Let me set the record straight
I am the fucking dragon
I saved myself long ago
I have a steel reinforced spine
a barbed tongue that roars truth
I have learned to love my darkness
I have learned to love my…
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Imagine..if you will
A razor sharp melon baller
Glowing white with heat
And you scoop a perfect little ball
From the inside of your thigh
The wound cauterized instantly
The smell of bacon permeating the air
The admin, at your place of work
Holds the jar’s lid open for you to deposit
That perfect little ball-of-you
The price you pay for your paycheck
But you continue on
Filling your tech pocket
With an iPhone X
Wrist covered in a 2nd gen iPhone watch
All so you look less like a golf ball
And more like, well…everyone else
Now we could certainly discuss
The scoop value of your gaming PC
The loss of blood was so great
Getting that goddamn Lexus
You had to pay in installments
But we give of ourselves in many ways
When your partner drags you out
To the company clambake
And you’d rather just read a book
The decision to compromise
Is certainly worth a scoop
Don’t you think?
The day you threw away
That copy of US News and World Report’s
Ranking of the best colleges
Your fingers worn smooth
Running across Iowa’s Writers Workshop
So you could sign mortgage documents
Sliding five little you-spheres
(The first of many)
Across the mahogany desk
The banker immediately fashions into
One of those kinetic desk sculptures
He pulls two orbs-o’-you back
They swing, hitting with a soft
But the middle ovoid sits still
The fourth and fifth spheroids
Taking up the trajectory
You suddenly realize
That all these times
You’d given up
Parts of you
You’d given up
Mass and subsequently
Force and inertia
Soon there’ll be
LOVE LETTER AND A DIME by Ra’ahe at fallenalone. I feel as though I’d just awoken from a dream and I’m trying desperately to remember the details so I’ll know why I’m crying. Beautiful.
i have loved you long for longer years, in stories of myth and death and pain, throughout histories of broken tales, and premonitions of mirrors bleeding upon a poem i would, and perhaps should carve out of the chambers beating breathlessly in my heart- a heart that you could quite literally feel dying an asphyxiated death beneath the hollowness of the ribcages you spent your nights painting with. somedays, when the rain is no less than a painless substitution for the ink i fill my copperplate nibs with, i can hear you wordlessly walk the short few steps from the window to the bed, in search of a moonless dusk we both lost somewhere along the way from one year to the next, as the guitar strings and the violin blades tangled away from our skeletal ankles, predilecting pulse in lieu of a coffin coldness.
ossification was just one of…
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A folding of forms by Oldepunk at ramjetpoetry. A quiet sense of desolation conveyed in beautiful imagery and tone.
There is blood in the indecision
Ineffectual in effigy
The loss stains the water
mayhem comes before
form of thought and action
corals and pale blues
finger upon cold lips
a radiance too dark
finds history in the current
life just below the surface
a glamour of perspective
honesty is brutal
rippling the reflection
waves carry the secret
until encountering break
red droplets of regression
palette silver anguish of green
cut to the knowing
of living in-between
image courtesy of Pinterest
I Had An Image by Lois Linkens at Sudden Denouement. Beautiful and elegant language that contrasts wonderfully with such a weighty subject.
And then it was a misted eye, a thought.
A passing glimpse, a shadowed hall upon
A shadowed hill. I would my peace were brought
In Years, but I am just as restless further on.
I have purple skin for those Knocks that came
As birds do knock. Yellow beaks and plumage bright –
Woe betide my jealous heart, for shame!
I would to get away for just one night.
I look towards the Clouds and sink inside –
There is a firmer future at their feet
Than this curled life that joys to send me weak.
Where is this hallowed Hope of which they speak?
I would its lips would kiss me as its Bride –
Its hands would lift me to that image sweet.
[ Lois describes herself as a “confused english student,” though one quickly finds a polished, charming poet in her work. She has an elegant…
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Play Dead — Introducing Kristiana Reed at Sudden Denouement. Wonderfully dark and insidious at inhabiting the dark corners of your mind!
Monster is living inside of me
behind my ribcage,
she curls herself around my spine
draws her fingers to my throat
to stroke my collarbone,
to deliver raspy breath to my ear
repeating the words
on which I always choke –
my name, my wants, my needs,
my apologies, my fury –
and the dust from the bones
she’s grinding with a gummy jaw.
Sometimes she sinks down
to bask in the darkness of my womb,
recline in my pelvis
and drag her nails up my thighs
and down my calves, towards my feet
where she binds me with manacles,
words garbled with my sins –
breathing, praying, hoping,
talking, waiting –
for this torture to end,
for Monster living in my head
and the hollows of my heart,
to vanish and leave me
to play dead.
Kristiana Reed day dreams, people watches in coffee shops, teaches English…
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Meditation by Kindra M. Austin at Sudden Denouement. I would forgo a synthetic heart just to revel in the resonance of this poem!
Shall I ascend to solitude,
enough to spy
Put my metal parts to practice, and
train my reason to speak in
I presently think in blinks of
our lives a fucking flip-book filled with phony animation, as
though we’ve never been anything more than a
pair of paper dolls pretending to breathe.
The surgeon lied. I am not bionic;
should’ve demanded a synthetic heart
Mine is afflicted with fissures, and
I feel the blood leaching like so many earthworms
smothering my organs.
My body is not a temple, but a churchyard—
your burial ground, and there’s no space reserved for
me. So ascend I shall,
Kindra M. Austin is an indie author (her books can be found here), a founding member of Indie Blu(e), and a writer/managing editor at Sudden Denouement, Blood Into Ink, and Whisper and the…
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