Lilith-Christine Ray

You look at my nakedness

and call me Eve

name my sins

Disobedience

Greed

as you take the apple willingly

from my hand

But I am no Eve

offering temptation of the tree of knowledge’s sweet fruit

serpent wrapped around the branch above my head

 

I am Lilith

the first

shaped of the same dirt

as Adam

so the legend goes

But I am not of dirt

but of fire

His equal

unbending

headstrong

refusing to lie beneath him

in supplication

 

Society names my sin

calls me

Whore

Temptress

Sorceress

Demon

accuses me of

vexing the sons of men

with lustful dreams

leading them to defile themselves

as though it matters to me

where their seed is spilled

 

I will travel the ancient ways

clothed only in my dark tresses

my alabaster skin

don a crown of rose and poppy

their scent filling the air

I will take back this night

shape its darkness with my hands

make it blaze with stars and moonlight

create a road for my daughters and sisters

to follow home


When not running around pretending she is Wonder Woman, Christine Ray can be found writing for Brave and Reckless and passing herself off as a managing editor at Sudden Denouement, Whisper & the Roar and Secret First Draft.

She is also an aspiring badass.

The Weyward Sisters: Back to Black/ Collaborative Amy Winehouse Tribute

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

Oh, Amy

Whenever I go walking

In my stilettos,

I hear you talking.

Dream me up a way

Of swishing my hips

And pursing my lips

And singing your riffs

So that I find beauty

Like you.

lois e. linkens

she puts her black dress on
in the dark,
anxious nails red and messy
in their early-morning artistry.
he left the candle burning
in the winter window –
vanilla and cinnamon
on a Sunday evening,
tears and vodka
on a Monday morning.
last week’s relief
breathes
into tonight’s regrets,
but the shadowy smear
on the glass
is all that is left of him.

Aakriti Kuntal/Writings of Aakriti Kuntal

Rummaging through

black air,

nauseous red nails bearing oily seas

Suffocating

existence with conversations,

conversations

with glittering nail cutters,

cracked moons

laughing hysterically in them

Conversations

of fallen boyfriends, of fallen love

Fallen being

the new being

Aurora Phoenix/Insight From Inside

She scrawls lines

up the back of her fishnet stockings

wiggly-lined intoxicated rebellion

strutting down memory lane

flirting shamelessly with self-destruction

as if, in seductive self-abasement

she may reclaim

love from a wayward lover

and from self

Kindra M. Austin

Kohl black kitty cat

Eyes

Lines stiletto sharp

Tongue dipped in honey

Wine(house), oh, Amy

Slay me

Rachel Finch/Bruised But Not Broken

Night chimes, a ringing to remind her,

She can sleep the day away, but the dark

still draws the Soul from the body.

Stars reflecting off bottles, empty, their

contents alive in her throat.

She is midnight, waking the world.

Sarah Doughty/Heartstring Eulogies

I remember how you carried your beauty like body armor, letting the world see a smoke screen, that many didn’t notice. I remember seeing the sadness beneath those wings on your eyes, the way your mouth curled into a devilish smile. I remember seeing your hair down, with those curls that lasted for miles, and how much I wanted just a tiny piece of your beauty. Your essence. Even a little piece of your ability to hold the world in bated breath. I remember your courage to stand in front of a million people and hold them under your spell. But what I remember the most is how you wore your heart on the outside and how pieces of it were broken away and lost over time, exposing you. Like a nerve within a broken tooth, you tried to insulate, but nothing could fix what you’d already lost.

1WiseWoman/A Lion Sleeps in the Heart of the Brave

Hiding in plain sight

Black song bird

Aching to be heard

Darker than the darkest shadows

Praying sacrificial hymns

Will carry away your demons

Hungry hearts rapture in melody

Enchanted with your euphony

An intentional symphony

Desperate on bended knee

Longing to be set free

Blood and wine

Cherry lipstick stains

Broken bottles

Crooked lines

Sing for us

One last time

Zelda Raville/A Sea of Illusions

Our biggest tragedy
was that
our love,
no matter
how much
there was of it
could never
draw you out
from a fatal attraction
to the depths
of your ferocious hunger
for love itself.

Christine Ray/Brave and Reckless

You shot across our heavens

a piercing silver whiskey light

your pain-soaked voice

etching a pin-up girl tattoo on our souls

We died a hundred times with you

Donning our mourning colors

we are left to only say goodbye with words

as your heartbreaking beauty

fades into black

005-amy-winehouse-theredlist

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

Originally posted on Secret First Draft

Featured Image -- 6841

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

View original post 70 more words

Congratulations to Brave and Reckless’ Christine Ray

We are pleased to announce that Christine Ray’s blog, Brave and Reckless, has been chosen to be part of WordPress Discover. For those who are not aware, WordPress Discover is a selection of the best blogs on WordPress. It is a tremendous honor and well-deserved. The opportunity opens Christine’s wonderful writing to a whole new audience, soon others will be aware of what we have known all along: Christine is one of the most inspirational writers on WordPress. We are honored by her leadership and her friendship. The moment that I first encountered her powerful, poetic voice, I knew I was beholden to something special. We are elated that her voice will soon be heard by many more people. On behalf of Olde Punk, Samantha Lucero, SRP, Nicole Lyons, Georgia Park, and the rest of Sudden Denouement , we would like to congratulate Christine. I would like to say that Christine has touched my life, like she has touched the lives of so many. Destiny has cold hands, but sometimes the universe gets things right. In this case,  the planets lined up exactly as they should have. For those who are not familiar with her work, please take a minute to discover the wonderful mind of Christine Ray, our friend and our leader. We love you Christine.

Braveandrecklessblog

godspeed,

Jasper Kerkau, Founder Sudden Denouement Literary Collective

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

On Muses-Candice Louisa Daquin/The Feathered Sleep

Muse you are an unwanted thing

coming as moth must be drawn unwillingly

for whom of us longs to be captured by the light

denying us rest?

for in the grey of our self-imposed exile

we know no disturbance

our affection is metered and paid for each day

by a short stack of coins all bronze and safe

securing our space in certain harbor

as little boats will never attempt

glorious journeys

but of course there are those unbidden times

like a storm out of the West devours best intent

cutting down our resistance

stark against your person

if you didn’t do anything but exist

it would still hurt

like beauty can make a man cry

unconsciously we dream of ideals

moving in hymn with that part of us

that can be held to the light and fractured

you know my song

before I know my own

emotion

I see the distance between

a quiet sleep touching you in earnest

and anything real

as colorless as soot belies attempt to rise above

normalcy and quench our longing for

a girl who breaks us into pieces with one movement

unknowing, as free as a child who has grown beautiful

over summer time

unawares of herself

she will always be this way and I didn’t know until I felt

in the pit of my stomach that fizz and fall

down into a place of ache

something as sweet as pain

the desire unrelenting and yet

impossible before it is formed

like a best intention

left like her dress on the floor

as I lift it over her thin arms and watch

the bow she makes with herself

and the reddening of her cheeks when

I demonstrate not all we know we know

surprising even those

who think themselves immune

to oddities and marbles strewn

lifting her into me and beyond where

my tongue and her murmurs hold each other

my eyes close when I see her

beneath me like a sea

nipples pressing insistently against my fingers

and all that she thought

was right

and wrong

for this moment

it doesn’t really count

we are beyond ourselves

her feather weight and my discovered ardor

making champions of hesitation

acrobats in abseiling the curves of her

I would please myself in the pleasure of

her surprised movement, writhing as she danced

inside my mouth clawing in pleasure

every part of her as delicate

as the flower I saw reminding me

how she would surely taste

a nectar within honey within amber within light

and stars

reflecting on her sloping shadows

lifting her up into myself we bind our

legs and arms and hips into fused pulse

no it is not a contest I seek to win

she is always going to love others

as they will always seek to touch her

but for that one moment as I let the sun heat my face

in thought

she is mine for this second and I reach out

and she comes

into my arms willing

dissolving and hungry

like red sand rises with

encroaching storm I hear her

cry in my ear a cascading joy

something breaks free

and she knows then

the loveliness of her

reflecting within me


Candice Louisa Daquin is from Sephardi descent and immigrated to the USA where she lives in the American South West. She’s written many poetry reviews, her own work has been published in magazines and she has her fifth book of poetry coming out thru Finishing Line Press. Candice loves modern dance, reads voraciously, walks in the countryside and loves supporting fellow poets in their quest for true creative expression, above all she honors the rare human traits of loyalty, truth and mercy and supports the destigmatization of mental illness.