Rana Kelly’s Superstition Book Giveaway Contest

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Sudden Denouement just published our first book, Superstition, a collection of poetry by the other-worldly Rana Kelly. The book is available through Amazon. It was a labor of love for both Rana and myself. The process of pouring yourself, your life experience into a book is daunting–and rewarding at the same time. Conversely, publishing a book is a great deal of work and undertaken with a passion for great poetry, great literature.
SD is greatly honored in the task. I would ask that anyone interested reward Rana by picking up a copy of her book. We will soon have copies with signed cards inside them. I would also suggest reading Until Her Darkness Goes, her amazing novel, also available on Amazon.
I will give a copy away to the best 100 words I receive about why poetry is necessary in a world of texts, social media, reality television, and the never-ending noise that we wad through in our daily lives.
We will be giving more copies away in the near future. Please support Rana, support the process, the sacrifice, the barring of one’s soul to the world. There is a place for poetry in the world, and Rana Kelly’s Superstition is a reminder of this fact.
Anyone who wants to write 100 words about the importance of poetry in our society, please send you submission to Jasperkerkauwriting@gmail.com.

March Madness Divergent Literature Contest Deadline Extended to April 15, 2017

In response to requests, we have extended the deadline of the Sudden Denouement Literary Collective and Secret First Draft joint Writing Contest to April 15th.  The Divergent Literature Contest is being sponsored to find new writers for the Collective.

Writing Prompt: March Madness

Unpublished/Original work

Each entry should be more than 50 words but less than 500

Each writer may submit 1 to 3 (maximum) pieces of writing for consideration

Submissions will be accepted: 3/1/2017 through 4/15/2017

Full prize information to be announced!

1st Place Winner will be granted membership in the Sudden Denouement Literary Collective

2nd, 3rd and 4th Place Runners-ups will be granted membership in the Secret First Draft Collective.

Send your submissions with your name, your pen name (if applicable), the address for your blog and a short biography (1 to 3 sentences to): Suddendenouement@gmail.com

The Sudden Denouement Literary Collective and its sister sites Secret First Draft and The Whisper and The Roar are forums for divergent literature that we hope excite and challenge you.

The top three posts will be published on Sudden Denouement and the top five posts will be published on Secret First Draft.

Finalists will be contacted by Sudden Denouement no later than May 30, 2017.

Finalist 5 of 6: MISSING – David Lohrey

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MISSING – David Lohrey

What’s missing?
Absolutely everything, dad, absolutely everything,
including you.

Who’s missing?

I have friends who don’t sleep at night.
Are they thinking of what’s happened or worried about tomorrow?

The ball came this close but missed my head.
It’s called a close call.
All of life is a close call, mother said.

Who, what, where, when, why, how?

Mother’s left breast is missing.
Does she miss it? Did he?

Humes. Clover. Des Moines, Iowa. Coldspring.
There’s no tomorrow and yesterday’s forgotten.

You will be missed means you’re still alive.
You’re not dead yet but you will be.
Welcome to your funeral.

Is anything missing?
There is something missing but I can’t put my finger on it.

My front tooth is missing.
I missed the bus.
Mom’s purse.
Where’s my sock?

No, I don’t miss the bus.
I missed the boat.

“I’ll teach you to talk that way to your mother!”
You missed.
“I won’t miss next time.”

There won’t be a next time, father.
There never is a next time.

I miss you.

David Lohrey

Contest Finalist 3: On Becoming a Writer – Christine Ray

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On Becoming a Writer – Christine Ray Brave and Reckless Blog

Sometimes, adopting the names ‘writer’ and ‘poet’
Led her to encounters with the most amazing minds
Connecting her with a larger community

At other times she thought that ‘writer’ and ‘poet’
Were the loneliest names she had ever called herself
Waking up every morning
To unzip her chest, her gut
And bare her truths to the world
Because like others of her kind
She was complex, messy, containing
Multiple truths, not a singular one

Sometimes she felt like she was writing
To a small group of intimate friends
At others times,
She felt like she was calling out her truths
Into an empty desert landscape
Without even a coyote or armadillo
To hear her words before they fell away
Forlorn and unread
Unheard and unacknowledged
Rendering the writer, the poet herself
Invisible, diminished somehow

She was always struck by the juxtaposition
Of her physical body negotiating
Close suburbs,
Crowded subways and jostling city sidewalks
On the way to her day job
While her heart and mind
Wandered in the isolated wilderness
While errant words and wisps of dreams
And drops of feelings like rich, red blood
Continued to seep out of her
Brave and Reckless Blog

 

Contest Finalist 2: Splatter – Aakriti Kuntal

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Splatter – Aakriti Kuntal

When the ink parts

between my tresses

I unfold like a streak of leather

and disappear into the horizon

A crimson casualty

of lifeless days

In my town

the weather is a dense blue

rivulets and arches, alleyways and purple boundaries

a liquid state

of all matter

a fluidity, a lisp, a demonstration

I have been weeding out

the pellets of time

time after time

they have grown scaly fingers and clumsy feet

You ask me

Where is the ‘ache’ ?

I throb, a spinning compass

pointless

pointless

I am Orion

I am Virgo

I am Polaris and Sirius

stretching and leaping

across time and its variety

the combustible zones of space

I have a mouth of flames

an insurgency of sores, the vacancies of unanswered questions

Time after Time

I pluck my tendons

twist and crack, break and wield

throw it all away

Am I diseased ?

Do I seem irregular to you ?

with my blurriness and putrid hues

Do I deviate from your slumber of stagnant happiness ?

for you continuously ask

Where is the ‘ache’ ?

I stay quiet

pastel white lips, creases of suspended chlorine

embroidered waves of a wallowing blue

the willows and the currents

burgundy and bourbon

I stay quiet

for how must I say

that I am the ache

I am the ache now

I am coarse and viscous

and I spill

Oh, how I spill

I spill like velveteen red blobs

splatter, splatter

I’m not afraid

I have no sex,

I have no religion, no color, no form

no mind, no interpretation, no perspective

I am sparse and dangling and damaged

and true

Oh, so true

for only the truth can sting, sting and penetrate

and carve circles on your chest

and cubes

and snakes

and split you

and chop you

yet leave you calcified

remotely resembling the contours of a human female

aakritkuntal

https://aakritikuntal.wordpress.com/

 

Contest Finalist 1: Suburban Suicide – Erin Crocker

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Suburban Suicide – Erin Crocker  (Author Erin Crocker)

Custom Homes from the Low 600’s

     The Monday after I committed suicide, clouds formed over the plastic McMansion he’d promised me before slipping three-quarter karat cyanide on my left hand. Weighted drops of rain thrust their gelled bodies out gray figures like shit the day after a person over-indulges his or herself on a party-sized bag of Doritos.
My corpse, lost, within a forest of highlighted reverse bobs sitting behind leather steering wheels inside black Escalades, complaining how the forty-dollar bottle of ‘Damn Gina’ just stained the side of their ten-dollar iced-caramel-macchiato-choco-latte-Frappuccino—extra skinny, and ruined a selfie.
Blood slid down our AstroTurf lawns, syrup on Sunday morning pancakes, or paychecks from a nine-to-five-but-we-found-ourselves-going-in-at-seven-and-coming-home-at-ten-and-who-cares-if-a-glance-or-two-or-seven-is-exchanged-between-him-and-his-secretary type job, and suffocated us like Spanx.
We needed the money for a closetful of Louis Vuitton, because one should always keep a closetful of Louis Vuitton if she (or he) is attempting to impress fabricated friends to score an invitation to bunko night. Our laughs, GMO free as we dieted on sushi and engaged in photoshopped conversation about The Bachelor, or goldfish. The barrel of the gun cold as I poured a glass of Pinot and pulled the trigger.

authorerincrocker.com/