A Suitable Period of Mourning-Christine Ray/Brave and Reckless

Brave and Reckless

I do not have a closet

full of mourning clothes

I have never

inked the names of my dead

on my tender forearms in black

in solemn homage

The list too long

My arms too short

to box with god

I am a motherless child

who grieved

too long

for the comfort of others

Left me wondering if grief

is considered contagious

a virus?

What is the suitable period of mourning

for loss of my identity

as daughter?

as granddaughter?

We do not mention pregnancy losses

As if they don’t count

don’t matter

as though the hopes

the dreams

we embraced for those little balls of cells

were weightless

mere dandelion fluff

in the breeze

We are left

standing alone

in contemplation

of our empty arms

Is a man who never held his breathing child still

a father?

A widowed woman still a wife?

A boy who has lost his…

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Midnight Precedes-OldePunk/RamJet Poetry & Christine Ray/Brave and Reckless

Originally posted on Secret First Draft

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Secret First Draft: Member of the Sudden Denouement Literary Collective

Midnight precedes

The dawning of you

Shadows and peaches

Lavender and spices

Rare, honeyed tongue

Sings rapture

My soliloquy of you

Cool moonlight

Carves your shadow

Against stark walls

But you are smooth whiskey

Intoxicating to my parched soul

Cedar and pine

Warm earth against my skin

From earth it begins

Aquiline movements

Fostered by need

To travel without motion

Traverse the depths

Of the lilac and evergreen

Pools of your eyes

Sacred stolen hours

We claim as our own

We declare victory over the selfish god

Time

In this indigo night

Where everything that is not us

Drifts away

Like silver dust motes

Writ of passage into

The deep dark

Where our secrets

Are kept by the verdant

Grasses and tall oaks

Cottonwood blooms scent

The air of our bonding

We explore our mysteries

Your hands

Clasping mine

Ground me

Connect me

To where our souls and

Bodies entwine

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The Monsters Under My Bed-Christine Ray/Brave and Reckless

Brave and Reckless

When I can’t sleep

I lay on the floor

and hang out with the monsters

under my bed

I finally introduced myself

after I got tired of them

poking me in the middle of the night

mustered my courage

took a peak

They are quite the motley crew

Vulnerability

resembles a giant porcupine

all razor sharp quills

shy gaze

caramel voice

She looks lovely

but it’s hard to get close enough

to really tell

Rage looks normal enough

as far as monsters go

but when he gets angry

which is often

his skin gets scaly

his eyes turn red

smoke starts to drift out

from his ears and nostrils

I find myself quite attracted to Rage

I want to stroke his reptilian skin

sit close to his heat

inhale his smoke

until my eyes burn red too

Invisibility is pretty quiet

mute actually

not so much invisible

as completely nondescript

I…

View original post 439 more words

Wonder Woman

Brave and Reckless

The world needs me to be

Wonder Woman right now

But I keep thinking

That her outfit is ridiculous

I appreciate freedom of movement

As much as the next girl

And get the whole

Aerodynamics thing

But really!?

I like my ass covered

And can we talk about those heels?!

Give me a sturdy pair of Doc Martins

I need a costume

That is durable

Tumble dry low

And has pockets

Lots of pockets

Because who can fight like that

With a purse slung around their neck?

I do like the whip though

All that red

White

And blue

Seems awfully conspicuous

And that gold lame?

Completely impractical

Unless I am trying to dazzle my enemies

I also think those wrist gauntlets

Could be bigger and cooler

Maybe Q could trick them out

The world needs me to be

Wonder Woman right now

But this depression

Is really kicking my…

View original post 162 more words

i will stage a rebellion-Christine Ray/Brave and Reckless

Brave and Reckless

the lesson

the universe

is handing out

seems to be

humility

wants

to teach me

to graciously

ask for help

cry uncle

swallow

a lifetime of

independence

put aside

prickly pride

discovered

this week

where

budding

acceptance

becomes

rage

becomes

rebellion

if i cannot

walk

i will

fucking

crawl

elbows

may get

bruised

blood

may make

the path

slippery

but

a little glass

and

barbed wire

has never

slowed me down

before

the bite of pain

lends a

remarkable

clarity of

purpose

i am

not

defeated

yet

dammit

i am

just finding

my fight

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The Weyward Sisters: Songs of Ophelia A Collaboration from the Women of Sudden Denouement

you must remember

rosemary, pansies, fennel,

columbine and rue,

You forgot tansy, didn’t you?

When the ground freezes over

And your flowers crumble and brown

Let the ice in Hamlet’s Heart

And the Red on his hands

Deliver him forever from you.

And when you return again

From your journey to the sea

Never forget

It is you.

It was never he.

Rana Kelly/2nd star to the Left, straight on ’til morning

I sat and watched the current roll by today

I think I’d like to float away to a place that I cannot say

You were always directing the rivers flow

I trusted you knew where it would go

But you let me go adrift

Dream chaser isn’t that what you always said?

You’re where the love has always been

Dream chaser dream chaser

don’t mock me now

Its not always the same

You will find me in this life or the next floating down stream

Not a single memory left

Hannah Wagner/The Hero’s Inferno

from up here, the night is clearer.

she is closer to the sky.

the branches cradle her like a mother’s arm,

bouncing in the night’s distractions.

if she stretches high enough,

perhaps the summer breeze

will whip these leaves into a flurry,

and carry her,

perhaps she will join the path of stardust

and deserted dreams

to meet the star-girls

in their extra-terrestrial dance –

she longs,

yet the maternal clasp of mother’s chest

holds her fast,

with ropes of tears and blood.

Lois E. Linkens

Defined always

By men around me

Daughter

Sister

Virgin

Whore

Locked ever in memory

Who holds the keys

To my prison?

Descent into

Watery madness

Sink gracefully

Into welcoming embrace

I will become a mermaid

A siren

No room on dry land

In this man’s world

For a woman of pure heart

To break the mold

Break expectation

My fight floats away. . .

Christine Ray/Brave and Reckless

I don’t want to be surrounded by men anymore

I run, it is in vain, I go in circles

I wish mother would take me to the water

Imagine

A world without mothers

The world would fight in peace

He says it is over Ophelia

But

It’s never over

I tear this watch off my neck

I am sick of biology ticking

I am going to end the world

A woman doesn’t have the power they laugh

I will poison the milk that flows in me

I will take the planet between my breasts and watch it pop

The world will end

When there are no more mothers

Hannah Wagner/The Hero’s Inferno

Ophelia,

but unforgiving

stamping out of the water

a malnourished fetus dangling from her open womb

“Look what you have made me do!”

Ophelia,

but pestilent

tired of men knotting flowers around the slashes on her wrists

to make death look appealing

I’m Ophelia, except I didn’t die in a river

mouth full of seashells and eye-sockets full of mud

I’m Ophelia, alive, burning

blood on my knuckles and poetry scribbled over my palms

Hush, little boy, you tragic Hamlet imposter

I might be coming for you next

Malicia Frost/Malicia’s Malebolge

 

 

 

 

 

Wire in the Blood-Christine Ray/Brave and Reckless

The line

between the face

I show the world

and my shadow self

increasingly

grows

thin

 

Superimposed

images

blur

No longer clear

where one ends

and the other begins

 

I walk

deliberately

heel to toe

on the

knife’s edge

between

light

and

dark

Heaven

and

hell

Embracing

the risk

 

There is

wire in my blood

Tang of copper

Taste of hot iron

when I lick

the rich

red droplets

off my fingers

from the scabs

I deliberately

scratch open

 

I like

how alive

I feel

when I bleed

There is purity

to my pain

A high

that

happy

never offers

 

I know what

I am

supposed

to want

But my shadow self

wants to drive

for a while

 

That part of me

doesn’t give a

shit

about

content

This shadow me

craves

tightrope-walk-

over-the-abyss-

recklessness

90-mile-an-hour

drives-down-dirt-roads

Back-alley

open-mouthed-kisses

in-a-thunder-storm

There is wire in my blood

and I am the lightening rod


Christine Ray writes for Brave and Reckless and The Whisper and The Roar and is a managing editor at Sudden Denouement and Secret First Draft.

She is an aspiring badass