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Out of Reach: Valdivia, Chile, by Paloma Lenz

27/3/2020

 
The taste of choritos
drenched
in the sour juice of
bright yellow lemons,
still fresh on your tongue;

the spray
of the salty shore
that somehow
always
manages to envelop you
wherever you go;

Tía’s laugh, -
the way
the corners
of her eyes
crinkle when she
smiles -

that musty,
warm,
laughter-filled home,
ripping at the seams
with love
as pure
as gold.

a thousand other feelings you
succumb to,
with every intention of
letting them hold you;


that home
and
everything
else you’ve ever
known now seems

unreacha b l

Moonlit, by Adrian McRobb

27/3/2020

 
He trod on the golden harvest
leaving jewels in his footprints
by the yellow dancing lights
across the stream of blood
black in the moonlight

Whirls of steam from his engine
wisping over his shoulder
as he crossed the iron matrix
Meccano shapes in a forgotten land
false rubber path leading nowhere

By the quiet concrete hubs
feeling their intimate silence
giant shadows passed eagerly
trying to match his progress
crushing darkness underfoot...

Mars, by Adrian McRobb

20/3/2020

 
They came too late
dropping out of orbit
the dust
kicked up by the boosters
dead and heavy

Ruins and silence
an eerie quiet
papers blowing by
plastic straws on beaches
mute testament

Miles and miles
of empty savannah
oceans devoid of life
rusting cars
on an empty highway

Advertising boards
selling toothpaste
to empty air
a dead planet
wasted...

Cracked, by Paloma Lenz

20/3/2020

 
Things are not right.

We see
all the cracks -
the eyes,
they know -

but they never
want to be reminded.

Coping, by Sue Clayton

20/3/2020

 
Cradled in her arms
She fondles my hair
Cannula bruised hand in mine
Her eyes brim, but do not spill

She never cries
Not even when Dad died
Why? I once asked
If I start to cry, I won’t cope

Do you know you’re dying?
I ask silently
Stroking sparse white hair
Caressing a careworn ivory cheek

I fold her into my arms
Gently she pushes me away
I need to cope, she whispers
A lone tear falls on her last breath

I kiss the translucent lips
That kissed away all my hurts
Wipe away her tear
My own tears fall as I try to cope

Minsky's, by Guy Fletcher

20/3/2020

 
How can I forget Minsky's?
Drunken drag-queen nights
yet now closing forever, past its hey day
when cigarette smoke blurred the neon lighting.
25 years of escapism
and in these sad times of Covid-19
so many hours to think of what has been.

It replaced the Stage Door:
I remember Enola Gay filling the sweaty air
and dancing with the carefree vigour of youth.
Minsky's, I visualised 20's Berlin:
Cabaret, Christopher Isherwood,
but yet more Cardiff consigned to the past,
oh, those halcyon days...travelled so fast.

The Shooting Star, by Mary Wallace

13/3/2020

 
Our fingers touched and I saw stars
Not twinkling in the skies
But they were there of certainty
Just lurking in your eyes

And on your lips, one glistened there
It caused your mouth to smile
So charming did it make you look
I gazed for quite a while.

I felt the stars then reach my heart
They burnt a little hole
And while you twinkled down at me
I swear my breath you stole

Of course some stars are fleeting things
You shot through with your wife
Cold daytime stars are dangerous
They cut you like a knife.

Afternoon at Writing Group, by Sandra James

13/3/2020

 
It begins
a seedling thought
carefully planted
nurtured
encouraged
until it grows like Jack’s beanstalk
new shoots
branches
spreading into worlds unknown
and bearing
golden fruit

Brief Encounter, by Adrian McRobb

13/3/2020

 
On the train
she sat opposite
"this seat taken?"
she said...and smiled
she was from Coventry
Emily
we talked
about this and that

Much later
in the Hotel
she reminded me
what I had said...

"Do you really think I'm pretty?"
so I showed her again
she took some convincing
and stroked my face

Her hair tumbled
in a brown flood
across the pillow
she was so soft

I never saw her again
Emily
but always look
when I get on a train...

March Sunrise, by Guy Fletcher

13/3/2020

 
He awoke from a troubled slumber
but then the March sunrise
broke over the horizon
appearing in his bedroom window
after days of brutal storms.
Raindrops on branches from the night gone by
shone as if stars had fallen from the sky

to a mellifluous orchestra of birds.
Aeroplane vapour dissected
the glorious azure ether
as he yawned and closed his eyes
the sun rising higher and higher,
its welcome warmth kissing his sleepy brow
and all was right with the world...just for now.

Looking Up, by Paloma Lenz

12/3/2020

 
Up there
were the distant
valleys of moonstone
and emerald.

Eyes look to them
from the blue plumes,
immense and shifting,
until the last shine was lost. 


She watched the night sky, waiting.

Fonteyn Meets Nureyev, by Sue Clayton

8/3/2020

 
Standing on the steps
she noticed his nostrils
in a pinched little face.

Smaller than expected.
he had an odd pallor
peculiar to Russian dancers.

They took tea
sizing each other up
five sugars for him.

Polite, he sat up straight,
with limited English
but making himself plain

When he laughed
she saw a difference
losing his 'on guard' look.

He smiled.
she was captivated.
they would dance.

The Lovers, by Adrian McRobb

6/3/2020

 
We lay
frog slippery
in cooling sweat...

Rejected Spirit, by Paloma Lenz

6/3/2020

 
beating heart:
prize of others;

flesh singing
with color -

a sunlit soul
denied
by us
live people.

    Poetry

    This is the section where fiction prose becomes something else. We still expect the poems to be short, though – sonnets, perhaps, or around that length at the very most.

    Poems submitted should be
    no longer than 160 words
    and contain
    no more than 16 lines.

    100 words remains the approximate target.

    Please submit using the Poetry Submissions Page.


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