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.
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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S. K. Nicholas/A Journal for Damned Lovers
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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Nicole Lyons/The Lithium Chronicles
Stephen Fuller/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
Kristiana Reed/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,
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
We never met, but I loved her;
for the time she spent,
an hour in my car
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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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