Sharp- A Weyward Sisters Collaboration

So honored to be a part of such a fierce collaboration!

A Global Divergent Literary Collective

I am playing with knives
again
sharpening them
lovingly
against brown leather strap
admiring the way
hair splits cleanly
upon the well-honed edge
(Christine E. Ray)

Listen!
Sounds like a violin–
fine strings ‘gainst steel bow
I play concerto
splitting hairs
(Kindra M. Austin)

I’m trimming those frayed ends
sharpening those
pointy convictions
giving them a sharp edge
a serrated opinion,
ready to pierce you
where it hurts you more
(Megha Sood)

Cold steel on skin,
I blossom,
stare down the line
take aim
at friend, foe and fortune
with my throwing knives;
multiply and divide,
split and survive.
(Kristiana Reed)

I like a razor
but xyraphi sings to me
of shreds, edges, ends
sweeter than any cutlery.
An x is an eraser,
that’s why I draw it long
to keep it clean and short
and shave me complication.
Oh, how…

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How Low Can You Go?

you gather your henchmen

close and closer

they

whose quals consist

\in whole and part\

of oft-shriveled

deified appendages

and an omnipresent

aptitude for grating

self-aggrandizement.

 

you flaunt

your petulant pedigree

while maggots squirm

on the flyleaf

pearling slime

on the stained

glass aperture

to your fears

 

I neither sway

nor hold self-same

relegated

as I am

thankless workhorse

\inflamed appendix\

held in abeyance

 

bend my back

with toil and trouble

work nimble fingers

to aching bones.

I break not

dear sir

limbo me not

to the lowest

of your lows

To Lie in Wait

does anyone know how

to wait anymore?

in this world of constant contact

buzzing chiming hyper

stimulation

what happens if you sit

in silence?

alone with the thud of your blood

\thundering in your veins\

and the whisper

of your inner descant

erupts

a cacophonous harangue?

nay, you say

I run not from the fear

my flaming inner ear

as I suckle at the singing

\pinging ringing\

electronic sugar teat.

 

this generation who believes

navel gazing

is a search for pierc-ed bling

an alt-indie band

or a porn-spawned

sexual fetish

they might just give a try,

flee

\buzz on the back of a flea\

at the barest nod

to hush-ed introspection

heed not those

tongues of babel loosed.

 

what inner demons?

 

 

 

 

 

Under Construction

 

I built them myself

these walls

that circumscribe me

\hem my hagridden heart\

‘round me

safe and alone

bricked with mortal mortar

\angst echo chamber\

impervious to pounding pestle.

fingertips mangle

in the raucous

clawing

to breach

a bloody gap.

 

I just wish I hadn’t

scrawled such grotesque

graffiti

Sudden Denouement Publishing Releases Composition of a Woman By Christine E. Ray

I am anticipating a great read!

Sudden Denouement Publishing

Sudden Denouement Publishing is proud to announce the release of Christine E. Ray’s book Composition of a Woman.

“Poet Christine Ray’s first printed collection of poetry, Composition of a Woman (Sudden Denouement Press, 2018) is a striking, fearless foray into the psyche of womanhood, both highly relatable and intensely personal for female readers and achingly candid and fascinating for male.”
Candice Louisa Daquin, Pinch the Lock

“Christine Ray brilliantly split Composition into five thoughtful sections that work together beautifully to deliver the maximum impact of each poem while taking the reader deeper into a stunning journey of the mind, the body, the very soul of this person. In Composition, Christine Ray reveals so much of what we try to hide, and she does so while dancing between ruthlessly beautiful and heartbreakingly painful.”
Nicole Lyons, I Am A World Of Uncertainties Disguised As a Girl

“I implore women of all…

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Name That Fire

was I being

uppity?

might that be the source

of animus

in a jailer woman

who inhales internalized

sexism

haughty with skinny latte aroma

exhaling scorn from the lifted bridge

of her upturned nose?

yessir! that is why

I abhor canned characterizations

labeling woman

\manipulative, dramatic, triflin’\

who we vanquish

and discard.

it would not be

that I speak

of the inequities I see.

if I am uppity

from what properly

lowered place

do I dare

rise?

 

I am fiery

you say.

an assessment lit

in my challenge

to your read

simply because you hold

all the cards.

true, I refuse to defer

to authority

over logic

to might

over right

I stand firm in my quaking boots

as I climb from the trench

\silenced no more\

fan the flames

of my insubordination

drink in the mist

of grudging admiration

from slaves to status quo

while I burn it

to the ground