Stories Like Her

They write stories about women like her, the kind of women who smell like smoke and secrets, taste like whiskey neat and ache, always ache, for last call; the stories that are burned inside of memories and outside of libraries, the kind of stories that make even the driest bones wet and the holiest knees … Continue reading Stories Like Her

Girls Aren’t For Beating/Rachel Finch

Rachy has me in tears this morning.

Whisper and the Roar

I take rejection like a winner, spit the blood

from my mouth when you’ve finished

pounding childhood

trauma into my lungs, smile through the bruises,

keep your secrets in my throat, along with your name.

I won’t speak you into existence.

My body tapped out but my Spirit’s in the ring, I won’t go down.

Fists don’t need words to speak, shades of you staining my cheekbone, a child’s signature.

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Naughty Bits

S.K. Nicholas, always so damn brilliant!

S. K. Nicholas


Some TV and a hot dog washed down with Cherry Coke followed by images of a car crash on the M1 that pave the way for daydreams involving alluring women with supple hips slithering upon hot white sand and then it’s stray dogs burning on the streets of Moscow and for hours I’m just sat there doing not much of anything wondering why it is I’m so odd. Might do the dusting. Put the vacuum around and get rid of the dust. Dust everywhere. It never seems to shift. My own dead skin, smothering me like an unwanted lover. I light up a smoke then watch The Elephant Man again. Makes me feel sad so I have a few beers and close my eyes thinking about Victorian England and what it must have smelled like. Imagine the filth. Imagine the pubs and the dirty, diseased skin and even dirtier naughty…

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Mostly Dead Ones

You with the goddess heart and cemetery soul, of course, you are a dragon now. Every ghost you have ever loved has salted the earth with their comings and with their goings again. Breathe, woman, breathe! Wrath and fire will shoo the dead to cultivate the love. © Nicole Lyons 2018


When I was a little girl they spoke of a legend, about a wolf and a hunger, and why I should never wear red, but the moon pulled the tide and I was christened a woman, and the legend was rewritten when I became the wolf in the end. © Nicole Lyons 2018

Support Nicole Lyons/SD Publishing with CBC Poetry Books List

A big thanks to Jasper and if you wouldn’t mind jumping over to CBC books on Twitter or FB, or follow the link in the blog and give WORLD a shoutout, that would be super awesome!

A Global Divergent Literary Collective


Canadian Broadcasting Corporation is celebrating Poetry Month by creating “the ultimate list of must-read Canadian poetry books.” Everyone take a moment and share their support of Nicole Lyon’s I Am A World of Uncertainties Disguised As A Girl, published by Sudden Denouement Publishing.  Nicole is a tireless warrior who has inspired people all over the world with the quiet economy of words that often turns into a roar, devouring the human condition while articulating the beautify and sadness that lingers in the shadows. Her book is a masterwork. It belongs on any list involving “best of” Canadian poetry. The purpose of the collective is to promote each other. Please take a minute and support Nicole.

CBC Ultimate list of must-read Canadian poetry books

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Woman- Aurora Phoenix

This woman though *sigh* ❤

A Global Divergent Literary Collective

she wept

and the coliseum

crumbled in the wake

of her long -pent


in her tears

she relinquished the burden

rough-hewn marble headstone

in the dammed ducts

of all the sisters,

daughters and mothers

who carried on

dutiful and diligent

when by all rights

bequeathed by Minerva

hard fought battle earned

they yearned to carry on

keening and lamenting

in disharmonious distress.

she raged

and Pompeii, lost

no longer, rises

from Vesuvian ashes

in riotous inferno

fueled of righteous


in her uproar

she releases the ghosts

literary, literal and liturgical

who, catlike, stole

tongue and very breath

of women on whose backs

on their backs

stripped and striped

cornerstones were planted

when by virtue

of their labors

they should be upright

ranting and raving

from birth to birthing

unleashed in the tempest

Eden’s serpent

for whose perfidy

she took the fall

oh! how far she fell



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