I Knew My Place

I knew my place when I was cooking

barefoot

scrambling to please

the indomitable hostess

fierce in a frazzled up-do

sizzling while he sat at ease.

I knew my place when I was chewing

my cheeks

cognizant of my inconsequence

biting back that biting retort

while they chewed conceited cud

confident of their pompous placement.

I knew my place when I was toiling

drudgery

forbidden from the boardroom

as I covered incompetence

silver coffee serviette

service with a smile.

I knew my place when I was massaging

his ego

and his member, crafting a pleasure cruise

dutiful and doting

at the expense of my own satisfaction.

 

I know my place when I am standing

strong

solid on my own two feet

above the clamoring fray

going my own way.

 

This piece was inspired by I Knew My Worth by the inimitable Kindra M. Austin.

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Flow Apiece

 

were I an ailing spinster

downtrodden in whalebone stays

pale and pince-nezed nosy

would my verses flow

\snake oil slick\

along with river Thames?

I find I am much too hearty

to sit abed and scrawl

longhand iambic pentameter

with dainty perfect pen

so my words trudge

stagnant in the sludge.

were I an artiste avant-garde

flouting dilletante conventions

skirting societal hems

with off-color threads

\malcontent connection\

would my stanzas stitch

themselves permanent press?

I find I am much too staid

a slave to stoic strictures

to scribe poesy astride

a horse of different colors

so I scrawl off-kilter odes

to a life of stodgy standard

mayhaps the day will dawn

when my morphemes will march

with motoric locomotion

utterances in extremis

emotive brave locution

Night Waves

let’s stroll on the beach at night

in the wind and the waves

and the warm

let the salt salve our souls’ wounds

and the surge of the surf

sounds a rhythm

 

we strode on the sand in the dark

as the crests breached a gaping gap

broker an awkward truce

let the swells lull the lumbering beast

that will best the worst of the worst

windwash all our truths

Welcome to the Land of the Free

they swelter under the shelter

of duodenal disdain

salvation proclamation

hymn hummed helter-skelter.

who are we to gift them

of our holier than thou

bread and water

served under asylum?

equal opportunity

persecution

doled out

with military precision

wrapped in red-tape ribbons.

did they hear the pop pop pop

of our birthday celebrations

and shudder violently?

\fear needs no translation\

these babies have seen stars

worn stripes beyond their years

it is not pride the anthem

conjures in my tears.

history repeats

drum beats

repeats

\repulses\

and the children

suffer for our fears

Sudden Denouement Publishing Proudly Announces the Release of Rachel Finch’s A Sparrow Stirs its Wings

Another exciting new book is now available!

Sudden Denouement Publishing

front cover

Sudden Denouement Publishing proudly announces the release of Rachel Finch’s stunning book of poetry, A Sparrow Stirs its Wings. Finch is the powerhouse behind the Bruised But Not Broken community on Facebook, which provides support and healing for trauma survivors. She is a symbol of hope and light throughout the world.
“Every now and then, when the world seems to be rocked in chaos and people are screaming without listening – vile words and cries for help climbing on top of and over each other – a single voice stands out, and that voice is pure in its truth and stunning in its wisdom.

Rachel Finch, and her debut book, A Sparrow Stirs its Wings, is that voice right now. Turning her heartbreaking abuse into heart-wrenching prose, Finch writes her truth and gives her strength to every unnamed victim turned survivor.”   Nicole Lyons, I Am A World Of Uncertainties Disguised As…

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Chaos 101

the carpet writhes underfoot

teeming with the detritus

of a thousand lurking

cocooned selves.

what say you

gritted, behind furred teeth

in the soiled stomp of a footless sock?

do you revel in my eye roll

as befits your snakebelly

stature?

I read the note you left me

scrawled in wet mayhem

\and you giggle as I trip\

you sketch me

a blood lipped evil queen

while you hashtag

#self-destruct

napalm all your bridges.

 

I hold a flame

‘neath the lemon-juiced shreds

decipher the heartsore longing

hurled in domestic anarchy.

Mariah Voutilainen Reviews Anthology Volume I: Writings from the Sudden Denouement Literary Collective

INDIE BLU(E)

Sudden Denouement’s Anthology Volume I: Writings from the Sudden Denouement Literary Collective demonstrates divergence in a multitude of ways

In late 2017, not long after I had started my own poetry blog on Word Press, I came across an intriguing site.  Its black and white vintage photos and classic layout invited me in.  The poems I read on that particular day were uniquely honest, full of rich free verse and wonderfully chosen words, so I chanced a look at the submissions requirements.  Right at the top of the page, in neon lights: “Hell- -here” it greeted potentials; the “o” and “T” fizzled out.  I chuckled with anticipatory glee, for under the classic front, something mischievous and dark lay there.  And as I read more of the collective’s poetry and prose, I did indeed feel the pull of Sudden Denouement’s careful attention to what it calls “divergent literature,” although I had…

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