The Taste of Citrus

Silken black blindfold

Covers eyes

Feel your thumb

Tracing my bottom lip

“Open up” you say

I hesitate only briefly

Before I obey

Tongue and teeth greeted

With sweet-tart taste of ripe

Blood orange

Juices running

Down chin

Collarbone

Bare breasts

You feed me more segments unhurridly

Citrus dripping

Skin sticky

Your lips

Long and lingering on mine

Before trailing down to drink

Sweet-tart juice

From my warm skin

 

© 2017 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All rights Reserved

Jesus Died for Somebody’s Sins

[Originally posted on Whisper and the Roar]

Mother Mary

the sinners pray to me

asking me to forgive

their transgressions

their sins

as though I am holy

consecrated by the fire

washed clean in the blood

But Jesus and I never

ran in the same crowd

we didn’t pass a bottle of cheap

schnapps while parked in the Catholic  cemetery

shooting the shit in a rusty Chevy Nova

making out under small town stars

I never found god in the cardboard wafer

placed upon my tongue

by priests with too-tight white collars

who looked down on me

called me illegitimate

offspring of a whore

audacious enough

to marry a divorced Presbyterian

their own vices

alcoholism

adultery

pedophilia

lust

throwing the first stone

gossiped openly about in the parking lot after Mass

do what I say, not as I do hypocrisy

still ringing in my ears as clearly as the amens

and halleluiahs

Don’t come looking to me

for your absolution

I am no virgin in white

visited by an angel

graced by the god of gods

I was a barefoot wild child

finding the Goddess in the silver light of the moon

the Green Man in the sun-dappled clearings

where I had my first orgasms

fingers dug deep in the earth

ants crawling upon my bare fourteen year old legs

I cannot offer you the grace you seek

only my humanity

my empathy

my deeply flawed soul

 

© 2017 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All rights Reserved

Haven

we are often just ships

passing by

during the frenetic work week

our sleep/wake cycles

not in sync

ruminating silently in the night hours

over our own individual worries

our daytime communication

focused on the logistics

of teenagers, bills, elderly dog

laundry, menu planning, the leaking sink

the busyness

forcing us to interact as

business partners

 

lazy saturday afternoon

the house is empty, quiet

except for the not so gentle snoring

of the dog we affectionately

call “darth jagger”

who can never bear

to be parted from you

his beloved alpha

 

this is when we

slip out of time

slip out of space

slip out of  heavy

grown up roles

thrust onto us by the world

and the relentless marching

of time

 

it is in these weightless

formless hours

my head upon your shoulder

my hand resting gently

on your heart

your warm skin

pressed against

my warm skin

that I am most grounded

 

we are liquid warmth

quiet breath

our inhales

and exhales gradually

syncing

floating thoughts

thin line between

dozing and waking

 

i love the joining

of our bodies

in rising tide

but it is in this sacred

space of after

where the true meaning

of intimacy

reveals itself

 

a featherbed

of trust

safety

sensuous pleasure

 

welcome comfort

from a world

that increasing is chaotic

frightening

reshaping itself at

light speed

into something I no longer recognize

 

i am so grateful

that you welcome me

time and time again

into the circle

of your embrace

and offer me

this escape

this haven

for these precious hours

where we are renewed

 

© 2017 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All rights Reserved

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Your Writing Wanted: Whisper and the Roar

Are you a writer of poetry, prose, essay or short fiction?  Do you consider yourself a feminist?  We want your writing for Whisper and the Roar.

The theme of submitted work does not need to be feminist, but the writer must be.

Submission Guidelines for Whisper and the Roar:

  • Send up to 3 pieces of original writing in either PDF or Word document attached to an email that includes your real name as well as the name you publish your writing under.  Although we prefer previously unpublished work, we will consider published work as long as it has ONLY been published on a blog. No e-zines, e-mags, e-presses, e-books, printed works.
  • Include a brief bio in the body of the email that includes a link to your website/where you write/where you want people to go if they’re interested in more of your writing.
  • Understand that you will not be paid for your submission. We are a small collective, and can only offer support in building your platform and showing your work to our own audience.
  • Understand we do not own the rights to your work, the rights are yours and yours only. We only publish your piece once, with the potential to reblog.
  • Allow up to 2-4 weeks for a response.
  • Send submissions to: christine.e.ray@gmail.com

Whisper and the Roar is a sister site of the Sudden Denouement Literary Collective

We are looking for top caliber submissions that can stand up with our Whisper and the Roar regular contributors. If you are not familiar with Whisper and the Roar, please visit the site.

Jesus Died for Somebody’s Sins

Mother Mary

the sinners pray to me

asking me to forgive

their transgressions

their sins

as though I am holy

consecrated by the fire

washed clean in the blood

But Jesus and I never

ran in the same crowd

we didn’t pass a bottle of cheap

schnapps while parked in the Catholic  cemetery

shooting the shit in a rusty Chevy Nova

making out under small town stars

I never found god in the cardboard wafer

placed upon my tongue

by priests with too-tight white collars

who looked down on me

called me illegitimate

offspring of a whore

audacious enough

to marry a divorced Presbyterian

their own vices

alcoholism

adultery

pedophilia

lust

throwing the first stone

gossiped openly about in the parking lot after Mass

do what I say, not as I do hypocrisy

still ringing in my ears as clearly as the amens

and halleluiahs

Don’t come looking to me

for your absolution

I am no virgin in white

visited by an angel

graced by the god of gods

I was a barefoot wild child

finding the Goddess in the silver light of the moon

the Green Man in the sun-dappled clearings

where I had my first orgasms

fingers dug deep in the earth

ants crawling upon my bare fourteen year old legs

I cannot offer you the grace you seek

only my humanity

my empathy

my deeply flawed soul

 

© 2017 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All rights Reserved

Uncharted Night-Olde Punk (RamJet Poetry) & Christine Ray (Brave and Reckless)

This collaboration was originally posted by the Sudden Denouement Literary Collective


burning water

still marks the way

home

though that is not the path

I travel today

by uncharted night

do I go

motionless movement

a note of fluidity

diachronic changes

in synchronic nuance

the language we share

is not known here

a purpose in thought

one million yesterdays

caught twixt our toes

on the shores of time

onward it flows

upward wayward waves

at incongruent velocities

seeking a partnered, rhythmic

dichotomy

 

we are two hearts

two souls

two bodies

who dance together

in an expanding and

contracting rhythm

of intimacy, of knowing

at times we are a

collision of fiery sparks

under a gibbous moon

at others we are the

gentle undulations of the waves

a lighthouse, a beacon

calling each other back to safer

shores

when the tides would push

us apart

always drawn back

to the place where we dwell

 

the scriptures we document

reverberate in the distant air

agile calligraphy

dawning across calm seas

energetic forms churning

in the skies

a word carries on the wind

a storm gathering strength

a bastard tongue

of passion

a forgotten dialect of

unknowable proportion

we force a turning of

the tides toward

the places we belong

the soft valleys where

we may speak freely

a parlance of devotion

a patois of union

 

in this uncharted night

we are like the fallen angels

our open wings

enfold and shelter us

as we free fall

together to land in a bed

of soft white feathers

ancient hymns of communion

deep in our throats

our duet remakes the earth

remakes the heavens

remakes us

light, joy

spills out of us

illuminating the night

divine splendor

celestial peace

 

chorus of honeyed

voices and

leonine roars intertwine

invoking a new order

cant in prayer to

the open waters

an ocean of feeling

in touch

communicating one word

that protects this harbor.

burning water

still marks the way

home

though that is not the path

we travel today

by uncharted night

do we go

to speak unanimously


[Olde Punk writes RamJet Poetry  and Christine Ray writes for Brave and Reckless

Saturday Afternoon Poetry

bare skin glides against my rough edges

like warm sand you buff my contours smooth

mouth tracing the trail of my vertebrae

you become cartographer of my ridges and valleys

before breathing electricity along my spine

bold fingertips find the places I ache

work me like clay

patiently loosen the knots

I have tied myself into

until I exhale the pain

the tension

into your kiss

your palms

become silk flowing through your arms

sighs against your neck

arching into your body’s poetry

until we are a tangle of arms and legs

against damp sheets

consciousnesses floating free

no longer bound by time and frail flesh

 

© 2017 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All rights Reserved

Manic Monday

Can you run your hands

over my bare back?

Tangle your fingers

in my hair?

Draw me into your arms

make me liquid

Help me get me lost

in your kiss

I need the world

to fade away

for just a few hours more this

manic Monday

Let’s get lost in silk skin

entwined limbs

warm mouths

arch into each other under the covers

let go of self

in that place where time has no meaning

and I have no boundaries

no limitations

 

© 2017 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All rights Reserved