Blog Archives

Southerndown, by Guy Fletcher

26/3/2021

On a hot soporific summer's day
I entered the gates of Dunraven Castle,
colossal gate and seat
as if I were from Lilliput.
I peered from the cliff of Southerndown
where poor souls have leapt to the other side.
The grey rocks travelled back in time
when Wales stood near the equator
and in this Jurassic place I sensed
the spirits of dinosaurs.
The beach of pebbles enticed
and I swam in the sparkling blue Channel
laying on my back in the summer sea
in deep water...feeling serene and free.

Almost, by Mary Wallace

26/3/2021

They're almost here floating on the air.
If I could block out the traffic noises
The cat clamoring for attention
Even the spoon clinking against his cup

I would relinquish the sweetness of birdsong and the soft humming of bees
The murmur of leaves as they brush together, stirred by the gentle breeze
And the swish of summer grasses as they sway and dance
The chirp of some unseen insect busy with important insect business

If I could switch off the voices in my head
The cacophony of survival, of daily struggle
For just one minute!
If I could shut them all off..
I know I could recapture the beauty of those last words you spoke,
Before you were no more

The Scent of Rain, by Padmini Krishnan

26/3/2021

spring morning
the scent of
sun-kissed rain

Tie, by Alex Andy Phuong

26/3/2021

By and by,
Beneath the same blue sky,
Some aspects of life
Involve ties,
Both competitive,
And fashionable,
Ties sometimes do
Make life wonderful,
But that only depends
If people make amends,
And make settlements
To experience wonderment.

R.I.P. Peter Lorimer, by Ian Fletcher

20/3/2021

This fitting tribute is posted today, rather than wait until next Friday.

So the final whistle blows on the life of Peter Lorimer
who could shoot a ball with a speed that seemed to defy
the laws of physics, a member of that great Leeds side
that graced football pitches some half a century ago.

A tough Scot in a group of hard men who yet
produced moves of rarely matched sublimity
whose white kit reflected their purity and artistry
in the minds of those privileged to have watched
them play back in the day.

A proud part of that team
you were one of the best
players I have ever seen.

For those who have no idea what Lorimer was capable of, here's a small, grainy selection of his goals. Watch how many of them end up in top corners. He scored for Scotland in the 1974 World Cup Finals, too.

Robin on a Sumac Tree, by Guy Fletcher

19/3/2021

A robin perches on a branch
of the sumac tree whose buds
are on the verge of breaking free
to produce scarlet leaves later in the year.
But today the March sun seems to hang
on one of the branches
and raindrops from an earlier shower
make the tree appear adorned with jewels.
The robin's breast stands out
against the two-tone colours of the tree
then it flickers away, perhaps never to return
and a different robin soon lands.
I could sit for hours admiring nature's view
regretting I have other things to do.

Hikikomori, by Swati Moheet Agrawal

19/3/2021

Her brown, inscrutable eyes are reeking
with pagan indifference.

Holding her book firmly before her,
she has drifted away to some desolate territory.

She sees nothing, hears nothing,
she is distant from everyone in an alternate universe.

Humdrum looks,
mind tempestuous as the sea,
she has crafted a dim idea of herself,
strung together by misty memories.

Look how she massages the nape of her neck,
how she runs her fingers through greying hair,
how a faint smile plays on her fuchsia lips,
half-apologetic, half-triumphant,
her magic is bewitching,
for such gestures one falls hopelessly in love for a lifetime.

A Cheerful Chap, by Ian Fletcher

19/3/2021

He was a cheerful chap this early-morning riser
who’d whistle while joining the birds’ dawn chorus,
his brain obviously chock-full of endorphins.

Nothing really fazed him during his earthly days
for if you laughed he would laugh with you
but when you cried he’d duly sympathize
yet you would know he was sanguine inside.

A blithe spirit he went to his grave a happy man
untroubled by the tragedies of this mournful world.

Now he whistles, he laughs no more this cheerful chap
decomposing in his new abode, for like all that are mortal
Death has shown him the door.

Morning Sequence, by David Atkinson

19/3/2021

Eyelids not yet uncoupled above the caress
of the bedsheet, the psyche stuck
in its torpor. Muted wittering from the bush
is unidentifiable, perhaps wrens or nimble thornbills
or a shrieker grappling with its reluctance
to acknowledge the day.

Each laughing kookaburra lays raucous claim
to its territory; magpies carol the gully,
the essence of early eucalypts.

Screeching rainbow lorikeets squabble and flash
from bough to branch, a concourse to carouse
and cavil. Soon the sun will slant
through the pre-dawn glow.

Reminiscence, by Kumar Vikrant

19/3/2021

Yellow sun, a mellow breeze
The first love letter, her rosy cheek
Reminiscing of her soft touch, the lovely voice
Her red lips move; I love you

The beautiful days of the past
Oh, how her lifeless body now rests on the bed
She murmurs something inaudibly
As I silently cry by her bed

Cancer took her away from me
The rosy cheeks now dead ash
Her memory silently lives on
Oh, how she made me alive

The letters become moist under the weight of my tears
As I hold them and read again
In the digital age of the computer
I hold dearly to the words handwritten

Reputable, by Alex Andy Phuong

19/3/2021

No need for the undesirable
Do anything pliable
For flexibility
Allows for authenticity,
And the audacious
Are bold enough
To do more than enough
To establish themselves
As reputable

A Memorable Time, by Marie Johnson-Ladson

12/3/2021

Good Company, Fun and Music

We reminisced about the good and sad times

We shared our hopes and dreams

We enjoyed family and friends

We played music and danced

We had fun

You loved your family

You were Big G a Gracious Hostess

You cooked our favorite foods and offered our favorite drink

You always had a smile and said enjoy the best when you can

You would say "you think it's easy"

It was a faithful few and some may say it wasn't much

but it was

I cherish the time we spent together

It was a Memorable Time.

Dry Tears, by Candace Arthuria Williams

12/3/2021

They are the tears nobody sees, Invisible to the naked eye.
Life-threatening dehydration, hardening arteries unmoisturized
Thick and tangible under the knowing scope.

Crystallized stones Destroying internal organs, Depleting stamina, Fortifying aggression, Unleashing dementia
Poisoning temperament and cognition, Birthing dizziness, confusion, Wreaking havoc upon body and mind.

Yet nobody knows they are there, these dry tears
Hiding behind the smile of facial facades
that exist to deny their existence. Sclerosis of the soul.
If the world could only know they are there.

Break open the hardened crystals, Allow the babies to cry.
Free the glacial waters that they might rush and nourish.
Bathe in your long-stifled tears
You need their fluidity to survive.

Searching for Diamonds, by Mary Wallace

12/3/2021

Weighted by worries, pelted by stones
Still searching for diamonds

My world is much smaller, cluttered with things I never imagined I would need
The same person who raced through countries carrying as little as possible now packs a bag to leave the house.
Walking stick, hearing aids, glasses and a suitcase filled with embarrassment.
The reflection in the mirror has lost something, her spark, her fire, her dream.

Yet today I choose to gather those stones, thrown to hold me back and build a foundation for another life, a life not less, just different.
And while sifting through those stones, I may find enough diamonds to decorate a crown.

Room 73, by Guy Fletcher

12/3/2021

Gone, gone the old photographs
one showing her wedding day
in glorious black and white.
How she must have studied it in the silent hours
transformed back to happier times.
Now this transient room will be bare
and the new occupant quite unaware

of the long history of the predecessor.
They too are sure to admire the maple tree
resplendent with scarlet leaves on azure days
but at the moment there's a ghostly presence
before new photographs arrive
and the visitors who once came here
just like the old lady...will disappear.

Golden Valley, by Alex Andy Phuong

12/3/2021

City of Gold
Never getting old
Valley of Amazement
Wonderful wonderment
Wandering around
Finding and then found
Surround and surrender
No need to fear the thunder
For the celestial place
Is not lost without a trace
For here it is

To Nana, by Helen Watson

12/3/2021

I want to hug you with my words
To take your fragile hand in mine
To skim your skin paper thin
To trace your bones, your risen veins

I want to breathe the air you breathe
To sense your out breath slow but true
To run my thumb across your palm
To feel your pulse, your light, your life

I want to stroke your glass white hair
To pull each strand towards my heart
To meet your eyes piercing blue
To gaze, to dream, to sense, to know

I want to hug you with my words
To give you what I cannot give
To bridge the invisible divide
To reach, to touch, to feel, to love.

Outer Spit Buoy, by Adrian McRobb

12/3/2021

Wallowing into the next trough with a lazy warning
bell clanging in its dizzying arc, and rusted bracket
red and white paint mottled by salt slowly dissolving
tugging at its chain whose hollow clanks echoes the depths

How lonely yet inspiring, its only visitor the eternal gull
whose evidence of years passing has splashed its sides
'Outer Spit Buoy' the sign read by no-one but its creator
the shifting current which persuades another lopsided waltz

Vessels pass and noting its position avoid to Starboard
as to Port the safe passage blocked by underwater reefs
the white-caps to the experienced eye, signal danger
and by night its lamp winks out the same message

"I am here, have no fear, the way is clear..."

Lost, by Marjan Sierhuis

12/3/2021

high winds blow--
snowy owls hoot
and lose their way

Darkhouse, by Miya Yamanouchi

12/3/2021

You were supposed to be a lighthouse,

the sanctuary from life’s storms,

the radiance to guide me to safe shores.

But you were always cold,

frozen over,

motionless,

trapped in the ice.

I used to tread carefully not to disrupt,

the fragility of your thin,

precarious layer of icy skin.

A fool could wait forever,

longing for the day

you might shine the light

you’re supposed to, onto me.

But I was never lost.

And I could always see in the dark.

The Andrew Siderius Memorial Writing Contest

6/3/2021

We Are All Complicit, by Sankar Chatterjee

5/3/2021

TRAVEL

We let little Vivian drowned, while crossing mighty Rio Grande River with her dad
We let little Jose and his friends snatched away from their Parents’ arms
Placing them in guarded camps
Little children, looking for better futures, while traveling to rich America.
Desperate strongman began to erect fences on the border
But we remained silent, we never protested, we were all Complicit.

Now losing the power in a democratic election,
The strongman instigated his henchmen
To attack the “Capitol”, the temple of modern American Democracy
He then escaped to his gilded palace,
While followers, believing him, march towards prison
But we remain silent, we never protest, we are all complicit.

Snail Trail Tale, by John Hancock

5/3/2021

FOOD

Does it matter if I am not very tall....................at all
I eat vegetarian fresh and pure........................for sure
And mostly I only go out at night......................too right
My friends do the same I would say….............by the way
However when the evening is clear.................we fear
That is the time we should hurry......................and worry
But excessive speed leaves trails....................from snails
And the slipstream of silver left behind.............we find
Brings the Bluetongue lizard out.......................and about
To make a meal of me and of friends...............quick ends

Golf on the Moon, by Guy Fletcher

5/3/2021

TRAVEL

I study the impervious winter moon
covered by a thin luminous cloud
thus creating a golden halo.
My imaginings conjure Alan Shepard
in a white spacesuit 50 years ago
hitting a golf ball on that eerie place
although it's just a small step into space.

Trapped in this silent house
and staring into the darkness
speckled with doomed stars I realise
how totally insignificant I am
yet contemplate how wonderful it would be
hitting a golf ball on that eerie place
although it's just a small step into space.

The Flight, by Ana Marie Dollano

4/3/2021

TRAVEL

Through immeasurable space of
Hallowed heights tranquil is that moment of flight across
Endless skies

Flying fluid past boundaries, pirouetting
Lofty cruising the distance to reach the stars, gliding
In the air journeying through milky clouds
Graceful against gusts of wind,
High above hills and valleys, virescent treetops and in between.
Through the heavens soaring with ease, I am peaceful under His watchful eye.

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