Keep the SMITTEN momentum going

TheFeatheredSleep

Once a book is published it is easy after the first attention-packed week to forget it requires a consistent and steady stream of support. We spend months creating a project and then when it’s for sale, the rally cry can lose steam in the wake of other distractions. But SMITTEN is more than a distraction, it’s a movement, a necessary voice, and we’re asking that all who consider themselves friends of LGBTQ equality, to act in support of SMITTEN by keeping the momentum going.

SMITTEN This Is What Love Looks Like – Poetry by Women for Women is a project of 120 Poets and Artists come together to raise the visibility of women in the LGBTQ movement. Your support of SMITTEN, be it financial or by helping raise awareness, will help ensure projects like this continue.

It may appear LGBTQ has a great deal of publicity but within that larger…

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SMITTEN Poets READ: Willowy Rose And Chrysanthemum by Lynne Burnett

Looking forward to the release of this book. Great project to support ❤

TheFeatheredSleep

SMITTEN is coming out late October, 2019 via all good book stores. Published by Indie Blu(e) www.indieblu.net 

Please consider supporting this project of over 120+ talented poets and authors by purchasing a copy of SMITTEN for someone who appreciates beautiful poetry. https://www.facebook.com/SMITTENwomen/

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Memento – 1Wise-Woman

Thanks to Christine at https://braveandrecklessblog.com/ for the prompt, my latest piece on grief ❤

Brave & Reckless

A knock upon the door reveals a familiar, elderly man, dressed in his finest. His facial expression is one of uncertainty. What does the face of, “I don’t know how you’re still standing” look like anyway? It looks like me… haggard, unwashed, skeletal. “One foot in the grave,” I tell myself, laughter pressing psychotically upon my parched lips.

He’s been on my front step too many times to know what to do or say. That’s a job for the professionals. Nonetheless, his instinct kicks in, avoiding having to look at me for too long, he hands me a meager, lonely rose, wrapped in plastic and tissue and utters his deepest condolences. Words I’ve heard so much they’ve lost any meaning.

I hang it upside down, along with the other two, still not fully dried. I wonder if hospice knew that each one was a different color than its predecessor? Yellow…

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My Death Is a Great Red Pen, Correcting-Kindra M. Austin

Heretics, Lovers, and Madmen

What you want, I ain’t got; and

goddamn,

I have the sinking feeling that it’s happening

again,

as night is falling down upon me. I submerge,

accordingly—

await my death.

My death eradicates mistakes I’ve made,

and saves.

My death is a great red pen, correcting

according to

Vodka,

on top of Fibromyalgia,

on top of Anxiety,

on top of Depression,

on top of Rx medication.

*

Two years dead,

and I’m still fucking seeking

mother’s affection.

I beat my breast,

claw my throat,

shake my insignificant

fists.

I cry confessionals ‘til Hell won’t have ‘em.

*

I have the sinking feeling that it’s happening

again,

as night is falling down upon me. I submerge,

accordingly—

await another death.

Each one eradicates mistakes I’ve made,

and saves.

I am pain,

and all my deaths

are a great red pen, correcting—

according to the spiders spinning webs

within the folds…

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Always

Pure beauty ❤

TheFeatheredSleep

Rorschach_blot_04Sorrow

You come from the juxtapose of joy

As I ate words of love

I had been starving for

Felt your surround like a glory

My body opening for the first time in years

To the rain of you and your outstretched us.

That safe place

Didn’t really exist

I had simply been running in diminishing blindfolds

Emptying myself of protest just as, in one glance, you fill me whole

Anything less is biding time before dying

And it’s not good enough! I want to feel FIRE.

I am

I said into darkness

A strange person

I spent my youth

Acting multiple roles

Watching the stage from ceilings

And words? You have none, I have plenty

But they mean nothing

The purity of your act

Holding my chin and neck

As only one who owns my heart

Tells me more than any soliloquy.

I am a writer

Who doesn’t believe…

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Doping in shadow

Amazing piece by OP ❤

Sudden Denouement Collective

by Oldepunk

doping in shadow

is it love or just thirst

I’m feral, impotent

turn, turn, turning

I am a quark

I am nothing until

counted

all the feels, like Lana,

so wretchedly exquisite.

razor-bladed surroundings, blank

faces pass so fast they blur

into Van Gogh ukiyo-e

hey you, still life

scrape away this Vernier scale

leave mass alone to ponder

weight, levitate

expensive conversations

feed the souls of our lonely

bottom feeding in retro

too young to know better

too old to care

bite into that scripture

mad dog driving

rushing home to….screen

divert, deviate, masturbate

unchained, infringed

so many fences

out of dollaz

but take no quarter(1 of 4)

doping in shadow

when you get this down, push

no matter the cost

is it hate or just hunger

you are unbroken, potent

let us begin

to explore(abhoreadore?)…..love or hate

thirst or hunger

in the end, we…

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