The doomed bridge – Pallavi

We crossed that bridge as five
But only mother and I survived
Your father and brothers will be back, she wiped her tears and said.
I know this was a lie, for her eyes flickered with remorse and dread
In a fleeting moment,
My identity changed from a boy to what they called a refugee.
Mother said it meant we were people with no guarantees.
no guarantee to shelter, food or drink.
no guarantee to life or new beginnings.
Can we go back? I pleaded.
Back to where? she snapped.
The bridge is broken, our home is gone.
What’s left is us and us alone.
Then almost trying to mend my bereaved soul, she hugged me tight.
And once again lied,
I will always be by your side.

Photo by Steph Lord-Wetherington https://www.lordywilder.com/bw-photography


Things which get my endorphins pumping – my kids (mom of two), coffee (green tea just doesn’t do), writing (find it a cathartic release), dancing (absolutely, first love it remains), reading (with or without coffee), working out (with my husband as my buddy).

You can read more of my writing at Curating Thoughts

Featured Post: This Bridge Called My Back – Christine E. Ray

young ones
you glance
in my direction
but you do not see
your eyes slide off me
as if I wear my gray hair
my fine lines
like a woven cloak
of invisibility
should I strip myself
in front of you
baring my vulnerability
baring my rage?
could you then see
what lies beneath?
this bridge
called my back
anchored with bone
cabled with nerve
built on a foundation
of blood
and tears
calcium phosphate
and pain
arched with collagen
and passion
has carried the weight
of mothers
has carried the weight
of daughters
has lifted you higher
than I was taught
to dream
your toes dug deeply
into my ribs
as you pulled yourself up
on my shoulders
and the shoulders
of my sisters
history might forget us
but the bridges
of our backs
will remain

© 2019 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All Rights Reserved

BACK BREAKING, I RISE – J.D.

This bridge called my back
This bridge called my back
Is breaking from the weight of life
Is breaking from the weight of life
This breaking back called my life
Is from the bridge of weight

It’s burning like the phoenix rising
It’s burning like the phoenix rising
And is the smoke in our lights
And is the smoke in our lights
The phoenix is rising in the light
And it’s burning like smoke

Trying to mend eroding emotions
Trying to mend eroding emotions
Is like rebuilding the bridge
Is like rebuilding the bridge
The bridge is eroding
Like trying emotions rebuilding to mend

Rebuilding the bridge
Is breaking my back
And the weight of light is rising like smoke
Life is called the burning phoenix in this
It’s eroding from the bridge
Like emotions trying to mend. JD


Just a punk kid from Jersey w/heart

You can read more of J.D.’s writing on Instagram

Featured Post: This Bridge Called My Back – Tamara Fricke

Mahogany skin
lends itself, naturally,
to scaffolding and furniture
alike, crafting exquisite
sculptures pale hands
envy and caress,
asking cinnamon’s
warm russets to
wipe snotty noses
and dust behind
the golden fabric-ed
recliner, left fetishized
and unused in the corner.

Scabbards,
every colored womb,
that bridge yesterday’s hatred
with tomorrow’s subjugation,
deny a solitary fact—

The groaning from
this bridge called my back
is not moaning, and one day
the furniture will bite back.


Tamara Fricke is the 2010 co-winner of the Gertrude Claytor Award of the Academy of American Poets and is previously published by The Lyon Review, Meat for Tea, Attack Bear Press Poetry Vending Machine, Whisper and the Roar, We Will Not Be Silenced, and has been included in a number of compilations.  Her poetry chapbook Our Requiem was released in 2014.  She lives in Springfield, MA, with an ungrateful cat, where she writes grants professionally.

Christine’s Daily Writing Prompt: This Bridge Called My Back

Throughout the month of August, Christine will be providing a daily writing prompt based on the title of a seminal feminist book. These are designed to inspire you to write a poem, prose piece, or a piece of flash fiction in 30 minutes or less.

The only rule is that you use the book title as your piece title OR integrate all the words in the title into your piece somehow

If you would like to have your piece considered for publication on Brave and Reckless and Whisper and the Roar, email your prompt inspired pieces to Christine at her.red.pen.wordsmithing@gmail.com.

You can also participate on Facebook by tagging your writing with:

  • # the title of the daily theme
  • #FeministBookChallenge
  • #braveandreckless66

or on Instagram by tagging your writing with:

  • # the title of the daily theme
  • #FeministBookChallenge
  • @christabelle1966

You can also share your response pieces in the comments below the Daily Prompt.

this bridge called my back