Jan Malique – Open not that portal.
TheFeatheredSleep – In praise of Christine Ray
You don’t know this
But if there is a warrior
That warrior is you
If anyone blazes the way and holds the torch for the light to get through
That woman is you
Because you feel the fear and do it anyway
You set fire to yourself and offer your ashes to the Phoenix
You are unstoppable even as they come at you with everything and more
You’re the wind in the willows, the avalanche, the fucking heartbeat of ten thousand voices
You are Boudicca
Riding your chariot through the Roman siege
You are the woman in ten-year old sweat pants making me laugh until I weeze
Who can smell an idea and rip the world in half with your passion
And when you think you’re just some old bird biding her days
We’re here to remind you of the shine you’ve bequeathed so many
Before you, those things weren’t…
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The group at Sudden Denouement honor Christine Ray
“The world needs strong women who will lift and build others, who will love and be loved. Women who live bravely, both tender and fierce. Women of indomitable will.” – Amy Tenney
I don’t know who Amy Tenney is, have never heard of her, nor read anything other than the above quote, (that I know of), that can be traced back to her, but after reading that very quote, I think Amy Tenney may know Christine Ray.
If the heart of the Sudden Denouement Literary Collective is the impressive collection of writers and their work, editors and their passion, readers and their appreciation, then surely Christine Ray has been a potent infusion of life for us all.
For the past two years, Christine Ray has been a valued, and much loved, member of the Sudden Denouement Literary Collective. As a writer, Christine is nothing short of impressive. As a poet…
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The story from Samantha Lucero is almost complete and there’s a surprise from the detective.
In the downslope of evening dusk, which leaves a cut of blood on the horizon like a knife wound, she starts awake from the nauseous scene in her mind and the clangor of the nightmare weapon. The floor that her contused cheekbone lies on is scented with kitchen rag mildew and dried piss. Her heart still limps to right itself, but she’s awake now lying on a warm floor in a pool of her saliva and coagulated blood. Fully awake and here, where ever here is, with it’s sheer, colorless curtains stained from being used as napkins swaying with a tender, curious breeze slithering in from outside, shapeless dark and grainy figures as furniture that her eyes aren’t ready to discern in their widespread shock of regaining sight so suddenly.
I have a sickness, a man’s voice says with sediment in the throat and whining in the tone, the…
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Thoughts and prayers,
Sharing in grief and shock,
Speaking words of comfort,
Calling out evil by its name,
All that is good in such times.
But there is something more you can do.
VOTE against hateful murder.
VOTE against terrorist gunfire.
VOTE against terrorist bombs in the mail.
VOTE against the vile encouragement of such things from the Bully Pulpit.
VOTE against demonizing any who disagree with the “leader”.
VOTE against lies and “Alternative Facts” obfuscation and confusion.
VOTE for respect for all, however they may be different from you.
VOTE for civil political speech.
VOTE for respect for facts and real evidence.
VOTE for equal rights for all people.
VOTE for candidates who respect your intelligence and judgment.
VOTE for decency.
Candice Louisa Daquin brings a clear voice to The Whisper And The Roar.
Silent men are often admired
for their ability to endure quietly without complaint
whilst women who speak out are many times, vilified
behind their backs described as;
“that obnoxious woman who talked too much”
I lived with a silent man most of my life
he stared out of windows and when people died, his lips did not part
later on I realized it was a form of cowardice, not strength
later on, I saw how when good people say and do nothing
everything is fractured
if tomorrow I died, the people I have most admired
spoke out against tyranny and oppression
they even shared a confession or two
if they were female they were oft lampooned
if they were male they became more popular
because everyone loves a male sharer
this world is not kind to its daughters
its daughters are not kind to their sisters
it isn’t a gender…
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TheFeatheredSleep – Basking desirous in the radiance of an other.
Sun filigreed through high tree lines
Touching our chosen space with bright finger tips
We swing, irregular rhythm, sometimes your momentum, sometimes mine
I watch you point your toes and know
It is hard to remain calm, not to act upon
Desires bound by respect and difference
You are a forest nymph, a hummingbird
You are a nayad of the lake, your honey my want
I imagine holding your bottom lip lightly with my teeth
Graze your unapproachable grace with whispering touch
Green water is still and birds sound from high
I hear it all
And only the gentle deep of your voice
How you move your mouth
The tilt of your long elegant neck
Sunlight turning your skin into caramel
Picks out the rushing river of your eyes
Glances off the high wistfulness of your cheeks
Your thin tshirt a wrapper, I long to pull toward me
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Samantha Lucero’s tale continues – more unexpected developments
She asks in that rehearsed tranquility; that silver voice, that comely voice in control of the drumming song of the hummingbird heart, because she’s the immovable rock. She can still be the hero.
What’re they gunna do to him?
And with the wet-blanket heat and the soft strangle of anxiety that makes the swollen edge of her nose trickle with an oval of sweat and imperceptiblytame tears tumbling down one-by-one from her smoke-burnt eyes that she can blame on the crushing stench that’s becoming insistently more putrid; she is that immovable rock. She is that silver voice in the simmering, nervous night.
They already hurt him, so now they eat him so no one can find him, the little girl says, But no hands and feet, that’s bad luck, you don’t eat that.
Can you untie me?
Mmmm, no, the little girl says in…
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Meet Jan Malique
Without those of you who write and read the pieces inspired by the weekly photos, the writephoto prompt would not exist. So, if you follow or take part in the weekly challenge, why come over and introduce yourself too?
Being a regular does not mean taking part every week… so why not drop me a line?
I finally plucked up courage to write my mini-biog for Sue’s call for contributions. Why the nerves? It meant leaving the comfort and familiarity of the virtual ‘Shed’ that’s my blog, exploring new territory and meeting new people. Sue’s challenges have been instrumental in my creation of significant characters. So, thank you and blessings!
What’s been surprising is that people actually want to…
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Jan Malique – Who, indeed?