Blog Archives

Morning After, by Sandra James

28/4/2023

He nods when I ask
if he watched the football
on TV last night
but the look in his blue eyes
(the ones I inherited)
tells me he’s struggling to remember
frustrated
afraid.
I pretend not to notice
prattle on about close scores
and tell him his team has a good chance this year

he grins

I wonder if an observer
would notice the fear in my eyes
Is this my destiny?

Imagining Ian Curtis, by Guy Fletcher

28/4/2023

"A loaded gun won't set you free." -Joy Division

Saturday night at the Tramshed:
Peter Hook and his band play Joy Division
and I feel like a young man again
remembering all the dark classics
from albums such as Unknown Pleasures.
I am not alone it is safe to say
many of the crowd have hair painted grey.

I close my eyes and imagine
the tragic Ian Curtis on stage
as the bass blasts another hypnotic tune,
sad lyrics from a troubled soul.
I recall dancing to Love will tear us apart
in a different world so long before
imagining Ian Curtis...once more.

To Fallen Vets (with apologies to W.S.), by Elizabeth Elder

28/4/2023

Shall I compare thee to our politicians?
Thou art more gutsy, dutiful, and brave.
Crowd-pleasing shapes a pol’s contrived ambitions
And shatters all the excellence we crave.
He fears to lose a re-election bid.
She fears control will slip and slide away.
They think they serve the country, as you did,
But you gave all, and they give in to sway.
Now, thy unwavering valor holds us still:
You give us steadiness and hope forever,
While, here, our cowards, dickering on the Hill,
Seem not to understand a fair endeavor.
If we ourselves are blessed and strong and free,
Our debt is not to them; it is to thee.

Homicidal Ideation, by Alex Blaine

28/4/2023

My mind
caged like
an animal
only to be viewed
like a lion in a zoo
one who's forgotten
he's king

Loud Skies, by Malvina Perova

21/4/2023

Somewhere far, far away,
Fireworks shoot into peaceful night skies
And bloom into beautiful, deafening blasts.
Nobody runs and nobody cries,
They enjoy it as long as it lasts.

(Image – Malvina Perova)

Fall of Man, by Adrian McRobb

21/4/2023

Man made machines
machines served man
power drove the machines
they washed his clothes
they cooked his food
they heated his homes
but the power ran out
the machines lay idle
not all at once
but bit by bit
until the fall of man...

Love Faking, by Ibrahim Alhiyari

21/4/2023

You delude yourself as you speak of love,
deriving self-validation that is a hard sell, save for yourself,
being three-in-one--maker, seller, and buyer of your lies.

Remember when you said “forever and ever”
and “till death do us part,” only to pillage the half.

Were the bible man, it would frown at you
in disbelief and dismay
baffling at your “real” feelings,
that are as real as a bogus reality show.

As I shut my eyes in bed
I’m oblivious to you
in default, dark, recoiling mode.
Though our limbs may overlap by (affected) chance
my body has shut down
impervious to your love faking.

Before the Bluebells Bloom, by Guy Fletcher

14/4/2023

I'm sauntering up to the Wenallt woods
past a robin and transparent stream
and horses grazing in the field.
As I ascend the steep verdant hill
I regret donning a coat for it is warm
yet Easter Saturday tempts with the prize
of gorgeous bluebells in front of my eyes.

But I have arrived before bluebells bloom,
shrug off this brief disappointment
listening to birdsong amid the trees
grass still sparkling with dew
as I slowly make my way back home
feeling freedom in the soft springtime air,
a million miles from tension and despair

Geodesic Muse, by Sterling Warner

14/4/2023

Chapped hands trowel lime mortar
brick upon brick, layer after layer
Greek meander boarders break

static patterns with folded twists
and geometric turns that open space
uniquely catching ambient rays
as robust sunbursts push
piebald light through circular arches.

Raising three fingers, I separate
Irregular beams each shaft striking
opaque quartz walls and pulling

amber streaks across surfaces
like violin rosin; crowing roosters
mistake flashing beacons for yawning
Aurora’s outstretched arms, awakening
my senses, leaving eyes opened wide.

I Am, by Alex Blaine

14/4/2023

I am the reason
Why the small-print
At an All-You-Can-Eat buffet
Says
Maximum
Five plates

Implacable, by Mimi Grouse

14/4/2023

Some have compared her to a summer's day:
Drought-harsh, her gaze a steady glare
That withers stalwart hearts away
And blisters any soul that dares
Supplicate the cloudless skies;
Merciless, and falsely cold,
The cerulean of her eyes
Flashes rancour. Her voice is bold
Like flurried dust-storms sweeping South
From desert-dry despairing lands;
The howling curses from her mouth
Hit harder than the blows that leave her hands.

So long as men can breathe and hear and see,
Wisdom warns them: Let her be.

The Old Stone Pot, by Guy Fletcher

7/4/2023

The large heavy pot stands in the backyard
but when once it was adorned with flowers
now it's like a miniature dystopian lake:
several twigs thrusting out of its depths
as if the skeleton of a doomed ship.
From a twig to the side is a spider's web
but no spider is in sight,
not the ideal location to capture prey.
Yet she remembers tulips, irises
and butterflies: Monarch and Common White
before the garden became decrepit
though there's a certain beauty to be seen
in the way the water reflects the azure sky
as she reminisces...about times gone by.

Poetry

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