Inspired by Reena’s Exploration Challenge #255 &
Moonwashed Weekly Prompt – Transcending
they called her an evil woman
yet her transcending beauty drew me in
red, fiery locks promising danger
her spikey halo protecting her power
remember what will happen
should you cross me
slowly she lifts the box to reveal the skull
of the man who dared to lay claim to her
remember that i am stronger
Redux
Cravenly holding on when both should be letting go.
It will get better.
Struggling, wishing for the scenarios of rosier times.
Hoping it gets better.
Reality churns out a present of mediocre.
It’s not getting better.
Feeling panic and sadness, a demise is imminent.
It must get better!
Fade to black…
Now, I’ll get better.
Originally posted 7/23/2018 on I Write Her.
the chaos of yesteryears
stained wet my face
impeded my advancement
physically, mentally, and emotionally
severely slowed down my progress
when the catalysts came
one after the other
they laid down a tough foundation
raised boundaries forged to protect
as knowledge and wisdom grew
so did my being
where i began, my past ended
Below is the description of the anthology as it will appear on Amazon:
Award-winning authors, Pushcart nominees, emerging poets, voices of women and men, come to the fore in this stunning, powerful, and unique anthology. Their poems testify to the challenges that women face in our society, and to their power to overcome them. A memorable collection of over 200 poems by more than 100 authors, this anthology is a must-have for anyone. We all can benefit from the poetry of survival, and of healing. We all can benefit from the experiences so beautifully evoked in this book. We can all come together to emerge triumphant from pain.
On the day of the release, the Book Launch event will be live-streamed via social media, so everyone will have a chance to hear poems from the anthology read by the poets themselves. For further updates check Gabriela’s or Ingrid’s social media accounts:
Twitter
@shortprose1 (Gabriela Marie Milton)
@Experimentsinfc (Ingrid Wilson)
Instagram
@experimentsinfiction
@gabriela_marie_milton
I’m so excited for this anthology to release soon! Can’t wait to read the incredible voices that are showcased in this powerful book.
Good news, first thing this morning! The upcoming anthology Wounds I Healed: The Poetry of Strong Women notified me that my two pieces My Self Evolving and Loud, were selected! This highly anticipated anthology, edited by Gabriela Marie Milton (Short Prose) and published by Ingrid Wilson (Experiments in Fiction), debuts in early June 2022. I’m grateful they felt my thoughts spoke the message of this anthology—the power and boldness of strong women. Thank you so much, Gabriela and Ingrid.
Stay tuned for more information about its upcoming release!
with stylish finesse and elegance
her thoughtful movements paved the way
for precision in the realms she inhabited
her decency preceded every interaction
and the civility offered by her
ensured respect for herself and others
even in and especially in times of hardship
the delicacy with which she carried herself
seemingly effortless natural poise oozed from her being
the generous dignity displayed and shown all
heralded goodwill and good outcomes
she roused generations to aspire to greatness
Exulted Flay
Here the sound of water being circled in machine, washing clean, our plates scraped raw in delight
Here the rustle
of forms, out of focus, lying together with fright
How in
intimacies stitch they need speak no words to convey
A joy as deep
in lasting satiate turning on exulted flay
Here our
mortal coil resolves its eternal ache to meet
A place of
sanctuary for those who wander, must also find their sleep
It’s only
pain daughter
Okay let’s
bring in the shame, have a good look, make it your friend, blaze and fall loose
on dancing hooks
We can’t bear
the suffering so watch the flames die down, to slender remembrances all in a
row, we are golden and then we are dull
Relinquished habits
Deep below the earth
I might have found you
Climbing from stalagmites
Brushed in clay
There’s a cost for
Relinquished habits
Bowing in bad weather
Will
In the storm
they said goodbye
as car alarms
faltered, testily bleating resentment for torrent
she said; I cannot control anything
her palms up in supplication
as willow
trees, burdened with rain, lowered
growing more sorrowful
white leaves
bleached by last week’s sun
run like
blind mice down street edges heading for
oblivion
it wasn’t far
from how they felt
saying goodbye
in storm
windows
obscured
wipers
furiously battling
elements
beyond
anyone’s will
Entirety 1
How many
turns of moon, shifts of sea, change of seasons, will pass in glassy dance,
before my empty arms, and untouched skin, shall feel again your weight, your
breath, your familiar smell and warmth, coming into me like returning electricity
shaken loose and firing, starburst over naked souls
How long
before I forget to notice I am waiting, my arms wilted in devout, my breasts
hollow with doubt, there is only time, ticking down in unwilling reminder, you
are gone, you are not here, this body will grow old before it ceases waiting,
the longing remaining like poisoned quill stuck in jugular
Entirety 2
You own me in obsession, I am your slave, I do not exist but when you cast your net wide enough to absorb me into you, this place of belonging, so unwilling and natural, we tumble, we pinch and curl, like hungry spirits, biting life from each other in starving steam of longing, casting fire into water
If you never
come back, I will be like those burnt silhouettes of humans, fallen back
against stick, crushed into waiting stance, faceless, without motion, without
life, a straw effigy of a person who is no more, running after you in her young
lean chase, she knows if she does not catch, her entirety will erase
Safety
Never had a
Minister
Never had a
Baptism
Never took an
Oath
Never walked
the Stage
Though I
graduated
I kept promises
Bon coeur ne peut mentir
Sometimes we don’t
rinse clean through
conventional means
We who are
unbaptized, undocumented
We who skirt
parameters, still paying attention
Hold out
unconventional hands
without
Bible, without Watchtower, without Torah
in swag of
secret climb, unable to reveal how
we get high
enough to save from drowning
Phantasma
But moon
You remind me
Ghosts are
not alive
And pain
Will fade in
time
You are whole
Then a sliver
Vanishing
almost
Blind in
darkness
To return
Bright And
full
Perhaps
Moon
I will
Eventually
Be like
You
~~~
Candice Louisa Daquin is a Psychotherapist. She also edits and writes. Daquin was editor of SMITTEN: This Is What Love Looks Like, an anthology of queer female poetry. Inclusiveness and kindness are her mantras. www.thefeatheredsleep.com You can find much of the work she has been involved with or written herself HERE. Also, her poetry has been reblogged on I Write Her many times HERE. I’m a fan! ❤ This is her first debut on The Short of It.
Submissions are now closed but if you’d like to be featured on The Short of It in the future,
click here for the submissions guidelines.
#TheShortofIt
Redux
I say defiantly
!!!!
Uttered with recalcitrant anger through gritted teeth; words forcefully arising out of my clenched mouth.
I’ve not let my life, situations, people or anything end me. Yet.
I grant a thank you, of sorts, to the pain played out by substandard friends, broken relationships, betrayals, nature’s force and every disturbing event determined to pierce me in my psyche.
It’s a necessary process, albeit grueling and inconvenient.
Enduring hardships becomes my opportunity to best myself.
I welcome the growth, but I do despise the adversity.
There’s no escape from struggles, or hurt and pain.
The victory gives me just enough strength for the next battle.
his champion flow
brilliant rays emanating
his light blinds us all
This piece provides great imagery of the emotions accompanying all the struggles of a bad day, luckily it ended with well-deserved praise.
A single tear
white-hot acid
announces self pity
abhorrent emotion
midday body crashed
I am foul-minded, drag-down
unreasonable…spiteful
shut my eyes against
a world of able-bodies
immune to the struggle
loathe this weakness
this intolerable disconnect –
body/mind detached from will
futility reality’s wall
could cry…will not cry
this day is not done.
Later, tasks accomplished –
I pushed through –
I sleep, awaken to nightfall
Soft pinks and blues
in a cottony sky
greet me – beauty
offering serenenity
and for a brief moment
a tinge of admiration surfaces
for the woman who survived
this day.
(Perception Softens first appeared here October 2018. I resubmit it here for my weekly challenge: soft. Image my own.)
I challenged myself (and you) this week to consider soft as contrast to the troublesome times. True to form, each entry brought a particular take on the prompt, and helped soften each…
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