Coming July 2018- ‘A Sparrow Stirs its Wings’ by Rachel Finch

Sudden Denouement Publishing is thrilled to announce the upcoming release of Rachel Finch’s book of poetry ‘A Sparrow Stirs its Wings.” Rachel is the powerhouse behind the Bruised But Not Broken community on Facebook, which provides support and healing for trauma survivors. She is also a Contributing Writer for Blood Into Ink and founder of Bruised But Not Broken on WordPress. She is a symbol of hope throughout the world and we are honored to see her vision come to life.

White Dress

Daffni Gingerich/Daffniblog


Speaking to others just makes me down down and out. It brings me there like a hangover laced with hospital gowns. Churning stomach and acid in my chest. That smell of iodine and vomit, the hustle of silence. My lips don’t feel like my own and this body only a wonderland for his fantasies but I have no real interest in fantasy these days. I hung my white dress in the window but with this tunnel vision it’s a vase. The dress has pockets fit for buttercups, or quartz depending on my mood. The collar is elastic lace that grips my neck as a reminder this life and everything in it is temporary. The truth is it’s gunna itch but I tend to sacrifice comfort for beauty. I’ve showered and gotten into my underwear but I can’t find the dress. I’ve torn my room apart and flipped the bed. He…

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Child of Her Time

S. K. Nicholas/A Journal for Damned Lovers

S. K. Nicholas


The hours run away. They slip and slide like the tiny feet of the ducks and swans that glide over the frozen lake in her lunchtime dreams. Behind those eyes of hers, the world blooms, and there’s no such thing as heartache and no such thing as pain, and life is this one long car ride towards a yellow sun that never sets. As she twitches her nose, she’s drifting through the aisles of a supermarket she hasn’t set foot in for the best part of several years. Helping herself to cubes of raw jelly and ice cream, she scoffs the lot before trying on several dresses in the clothing department, and as she waltzes around eyeing herself up in the mirrors, she smiles at her reflection and then just like that she’s skipping through those golden fields of corn as free as a gust of wind and as light…

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Liquid Jade

Stephen Fuller/Pointed Home

Pointed Home

The ocean runs like liquid jade
Poured between fingers, pure and clean
Empty like I wish to be long enough
To settle between ears that heard too much.

God poured his glass of water here
So that I could see the bottom
A reminder of spots that can be touched
But many more that remain to dive for.

Should I take a break from these poems –
Lyrics to songs I sing alone –
Try to dance to a song everyone knows?
Not to give the night to conformity

Just to break the darkness
With a light from wax,
Words melted with a flame,
A spark that smells familiar, if foul.

Did the child wonder,
That darkness would not scare him?
Did the chid wonder
What darkness would inspire?

Image: Ivan Konstantinovich Aivazovsky

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Kristiana Reed/My Screaming Twenties

My Screaming Twenties

On our first date

I told you I’d dated

two before you.

The first, Liza

was blonde, stern

but held stories

in her eyes, yours, mine

and every fortnight

we sat before her fireplace.

I often cried and she held me

at arms length,

preferring emails

to the confines of a room;

room I took up with my mess.

My unopened boxes,

my sellotape bandaged boxes,

my squished boxes.

With time we grew distant,

the tears stopped

and she had conversations

with my inbox.

The second, Mary,

we never met.

She knew I had a lonely heart

so we talked;

about grief and change

whilst I watched birds

flutter and settle in trees

across the street,

her dulcet tones

soothing my sorrow.

We talked about blessings

and curses, what it means

to grow.

We never met, but I loved her;

for the time she spent,

an hour in my car

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Oldepunk/RamJet Poetry

RamJet Poetry


we’re all blind in the beginning

Some say life

it is a river

but I say fuck that

it’s a flame

you and me, we’re proper bandits

off of our rockers in full-throated harmony

I once heard your name come across

in some forgotten tune on the Wurlitzer

and it sounded like LSD

we take what we need to

if we deign to designate

your filth, this disease

will paint your front door

a scarlet red A

go Big or go home is the answer

to the question about to fall out

of your stupid mouth

so keep it shut

we don’t need no education

we front the cold side with

a pimp stroke slide

drop a rhyme like Chuck D

drop a dime on that lazy greed

that is coursing through the outsiders

we bleed mercury and crows’ feet

tie chains to my insides and pull

at the heart…

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