Blog Archives

The Holding, by Tammy Mezera

31/1/2015

Where are we
in the sensing, the push of pulse
if I am honest
I miss evaporating into the air
the density of our world
becoming ghostly
traveling admissions
meeting anomalies
touching by curiosity and questions

Darling, what are afraid of
in yielding again to the unknown
or is truth left only for strangers
to embody change
a willing possession and purge
equal to lust, resistance lost
we must now break definition
and move from our knowing
to endanger who we are
and what we have
to soar again
in a sky too vast
for the holding

An Inexact Science, by Jane Reid

28/1/2015

In late January 2015, weather forecasters predicted "historic snowstorms" for north-eastern America. It really didn't materialise.

The upper air filled
With threatening moisture
And cold. Bad omens

An angry storm loomed
Large in predictions of danger
But fickle winds veered.

Weather prediction
Can leave not snow but egg
On forecasters’ faces.

the anti-eucharist, by Janette Jorgensen

28/1/2015

let there be: (seedless)
     oranges
     grapes
     tomatoes

ever aware of market values
let us create
convenience
and move beyond
planned obsolescence
to the hybrid which can
not reproduce itself

     insure seed sales

do not let them be
     fruitful, multiplying
     filling the earth with bounty

once life waited within fruit
     vulnerable to disease, easy
    prey to insect and bird
now let us reanimate with proteins
infuse with pesticide

     pregnant with death
let fruits die
     unfulfilled
     having lost their savour
in the biotechnological process

     let us not question our wisdom
     our motives

do not ask us:
     what becomes of those
     who ingest death?

Tiny Creature, by Gordon Lawrie

27/1/2015

Tiny creature, nameless yet,
What adventures lie in wait
For you, what simple twists of fate
Will shape your destiny?
How will fortune dictate
Your journey?

If God exists, I'll ask him this:
Protect this little one with all of His
Heavenly power, wrapped in a kiss –
But tiny creature, never fear,
If there's no God or he cannot hear
Those who love you will be there
To love, to hold, to feed, to care.

Go forward, tiny creature, go
Yours is the day that's yet to come
Yours is the world I'll never know;
May those tiny, sleepy eyes
Some day see where a better future lies.
Pretend I can cast some magic spell –
I do it now and wish you well:
Enjoy your life, enjoy the show,
And as you grow, the world will grow.

Musicians, by Eric Smith

18/1/2015

You skirted the issue,
No awkward diplomat
Why you kept your golden
Sphere from mine.
Afraid to boil over I
Remained outside even
As your eleventh-hour concession
To consummations arrived
So
Is it true?
Are you declining in Boston?
Those fine Texas fingers drumming
Into a stark table?
Keep drinking, Susan.
I, the one man you never embraced,
Insist upon perfection.

By Jane Reid

12/1/2015

Robert Frost had miles
To go before he could sleep
On a snowy eve.

Tomorrow I too have
Promises to keep, but snow
And ice will jail me.

All of which may show
A horse is the way to go
In ice and snow.

An Ode To Coffee, by Emma Baird

9/1/2015

Coffee ain’t my cup of tea.
Bitter, bitter, bitter…
Those ol’ dark beans are nasty critters.
They assault your taste buds and give you the jitters.
They stain your teeth and pollute your breath
(Coffee really is social death).
There are better ways to get it,
If you really want the caffeine high
Why not give the mighty cola a try?
There’s always strong chocolate too.
The bonus is you can also turn it into a brew.

The Bold One Wins, by Sarah Hauck

8/1/2015

Used for typing letter by letter in a line.
Thanks to Digitus Medius, I type just fine.

At times I wish for polydactyl, to multiply.
My brain works fast, but Digit. M. is shy.

He calls upon his brother on the other hand,
Digitus Tertius flies up as if on command.

He does this quite often, sometimes unwillingly so,
at the taxi, the rude clerk or the stupid TV show.

He never cares and speaks his mind,
Unlike his brother, who is so crazy kind.

Yet so different, but they are twins,
Shy left loses, and the bold right wins.

Poetry

Archives