Silence Severed

Christine Ray – emergence of the poet from the winter of discontent

Brave and Reckless

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I held the silence for so long

that it became a thing

a monster

with dripping fangs

and sharpened claws

that began to eat my heart

shred my soul

just when my days

became as dark as my sleepless nights

and I thought that finally, I was done

something deep inside stirred





thought long gone

now burned again in my gut

itched in my fingers

trembled on my tongue

I shaped it into a flaming sword

severed the silence in two

molded it into a smoldering fountain pen

and ink finally began to flow

© 2018 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All rights Reserved

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Obsession #2

Christine Ray – passion and a regret

Brave and Reckless

Were you my obsession

Or was I yours?

When my ego was at all-time low

You told me I was






You told me that you and your lover

Were  in an open relationship

So I let you kiss me

I kissed you back

Looked into those gorgeous blue eyes

Tangled my fingers in your curly black hair

Made out with you until we were both

Breathless and aching

Turned out you and your girlfriend had different ideas

About how “open” your relationship was

She took me out for coffee and set me straight

She told me to stay away

I tried to stay away

But we were wildfire together

Juliet and Romea

Late night phone calls

Passionate love letters

Your best friend our go-between

Shaking her head sadly

Knowing this wasn’t going to end well

We had just enough impulse control

To keep our tank tops…

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Introducing New Collective Member: Megha Sood- Lava

Megha Sood joins The Whisper And The Roar

Whisper and the Roar

You are clipping

my wings

to suit your needs;

you are breaking

my bones

to fit me inside a

cookie cutter;

caulking and

smoothing my

rough opinions

just so you please;

tightening the strings

to make this puppet dance

to your tune wildly;

You are bending

my will

and twisting

my emotions to

suit your needs;

you are choking

my dreams

so you can save

some air for

your luxury;

my bones are brittle

but I have an iron will;

you can bend me

but can’t break me

from within;

like molten lava

I melt

but I have the strength

of mountains

hidden in me;

I give birth

to new lands

and can melt

your sorry


in a blink of an eye

you see.

Photo by Jack Ebnet on Unsplash

I’m an avid reader who loves to sing, an ardent lover of poetry and sometimes can scribble few lines…

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I’m Grateful to be Living Outside America–And That Breaks My Heart

On Wine And Cheese (Doodles), Dina Honor gives a view from abroad

Wine and Cheese (Doodles)

I’m an American.

I root for Team USA during the Olympics. I get a little misty-eyed when the flag is raised or I hear the first strains of The Star Spangled Banner. I sigh in delight over rockets red glare on the Fourth of July. I wax poetic about the joy of a cheeseburger and a Dunkin’ Donuts iced coffee. I marvel at the expanse of sea to shining sea.

I’m an American.

But I don’t live in America any more.

I live in Europe now. Europe is not free of violence or discrimination, it’s not a perfect utopia where everyone is sitting cross-legged in a circle strumming Kumbayah. It’s not without problems or worries. It’s not even free of guns.

But it is a place without everyday gun violence, without mall rampages and movie theatre massacres. And without school shootings. And while we’re here, let’s stop mincing words…

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Malevolent Melody: a collaborative piece by the curators of Blood Into Ink

On Blood Into Ink – an amazing group effort

Blood Into Ink


(Aurora Phoenix)

Your Urgency Pierced My Marrow

with vanilla milquetoast


you spun a web

the envy of Arachne

smeared in syrupy cajolery –

I supped on hand-dipped flattery

your urgency pierced my marrowwith flim flam


Dilly Dalliance Bound Me

Lavender dipped

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Dying Embers- Christine Ray, Nicole Bohnask & Gerry Hanna

On Brave And Reclkess, a collaboration – brief, intense

Brave and Reckless

A spontaneous riff off a six word story led three strangers from around the world to write this little piece.  I hope you enjoy meeting Nicole Bohnask & Gerry Hanna as much as I did

Our cold bed whispers your name

relentlessly reminding me of your absence

I turn to ice without you

the fire long since unwillingly extinguished

I mourn alone among dying embers

awaiting Death’s final welcome cold embrace

my arms still reaching for you.

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TheFeathered Sleep – Anger is real.


The therapist

she doesn’t look her age, though it wouldn’t matter

she is wise in years and that’s what counts

her skin reminds me of a Swiss lady I knew, she has the color of travel

and I trust her which is all that is needed

she asks me, why I don’t get angry

I think about where my anger has gone

after all I was an angry child

only the other day a friend’s parent reminded me

‘you were a naughty little girl, but I know it was because you were mad’

it feels like she’s talking about someone else

because I have lost my ire

that’s not a good feeling

if I had it back, I imagine

I’d rage through the streets, decrying the bad deeds of an indifferent world

but I sit quietly reading a book and the clock is ticking down the hours I am not

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Hasty says we are snow – yes



It’s in the snow
The specks of dirt
That drift and float
Dust caged by tears
Shed from the heavens
Frozen and dropped
Wrapped and held
And manipulated
To be more than
To be desired
To be beholden
For its short lived
And unique beauty
Creating blankets
Of white cotton
Waiting for the sun
To turn them
Back into the mud
They were born from

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Hasty – conflict and reconciliation



Steps heavy with
Steel toed boots
Torches replace
Wooden stakes
Carved into words
Skewering insides
Turning logic
Into a constant
Trickling streams
Of overdosed panic
Invisible blood
Flows thick
Drawing poison
From weak souls
Until the puss
Runs sticky
And thoughts sit
In puddles
Of old and dried
Scabby wounds
Until remorse
Draws clarity
From our bruised
Purple and blue
Beaten heart
And only then
Will logic settle
Into a steady rhythm
And only then
Will we be able
To turn ashes
Into breath

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Hasty has new poetry



Bleakness got stuck here
Held under and drowning
Beneath a crimson avalanche
Of burnt and mutilated words
Desperate for coherent sense
To strike like lightening
Upon the overgrown heads
Of the mountain crawlers
To cry like rolling thunder
Across a grossly pregnant sky
Holding its belly just for spite
Stuck and buried we are
Captive to this hostile terrain
This death life has placed
Inside our lungs to slowly
Kill the existence given to us
Contorted and deformed
Chained to disillusionment
We lie down and surrender
To the cruelty of desolation

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