Blog Archives

The Essence of Love, by Bruce Levine

29/11/2019

Love is the essence of being
The ultimate companion
The harbinger of life
Tracing patterns without shadows
Through the threshold of eternity
An elixir of time
Held in a dew-drop
Amid the molecules of the ocean
Suspended like crystalline rain
Fulfilled by cohesion like atoms
Rotating in unison
With breathtaking speed
And yet individual though indivisible
Patterns of a double helix
United forever in perpetual spring
Like a robin’s song
A glorious melody
Sung over and over again
The perfection of harmony
One perfect refrain

Keep on the Sunny Side, by Cindy Patrick

29/11/2019

Underneath-
dark, muddy, cold, wet
live with cautious purpose
outward
colour, washed, warm, dry – enough
appears so
appears, requiring kindness, encouragement
legitimate from the elements,
as the sand slips away
another wave rolls in
sustaining the darkness of the foundation
while the superficial takes
energy from those around
solar powered,
at peak performance
vacation, sunny side up self
differs so, from mundane day-
functioning to an end
see me, speak to me,
sunny side up
as the dark side is my reality
housing, for the clandestine,
creepy, unsettling, realities
what you don’t turn over
is no day at the beach

Under My Dreamy Sky, by Guy Fletcher

29/11/2019

My old neighbour stared ot of the bedroom window
with lost faraway eyes,
she had departed years ago
so it came as a surprise.
It was a gloomy silent place
but now children's voices fill the air
and the sounds of living
have replaced all that despair.
She stared out of the bedroom window
as I drifted by
for I resurrect the dead
under my dreamy sky.

A Beauty And A Beast, by Sankar Chatterjee

22/11/2019

A coal miner’s daughter from Durham
Fleeing poor accent and obsolete British aristocracy
Harvard scholar Fiona now defends US democracy.
Facing strongman’s pugnacious henchmen
Clad in black, roaring like a panther in rage
She reminds the spineless
What’s at stake: a democracy or a dictatorship?

*

Growing up a spoiled brat,
Hobnobbing with the rich and famous
In Epstein, he’d meet his evil American twin.
Powerful men, they’d prey on poor young women.
Now, under the bright light on an interview stage
He lowers his head, murmuring “Pizza Express”.
Oh Lord! Royal Andy brings down the palace.

The Forgotten Canal, by Guy Fletcher

22/11/2019

It is a bitter late November evening
as I stroll down the city lane,
on one side the bright lights
of Winter Wonderland with Christmas songs
played to death in every town.
Tall sinister trees are on guard
and to my left flows a murky canal,
neon reflections making it seem
as if silver has been sprinkled on its gloom.
Forgotten Cardiff: imprisoned by iron railings,
on the bridge a fountain, Jacob's Well,
with Jesus and the Samarian woman
but a can of empty cider stands near,
modern memento...soon to disappear.

Redefining Borders, by Bruce Levine

15/11/2019

Dedicated to those
Who believe their own hyperbole
Rounding the edges with sandpaper
Emery boards of diamond dust
Redefining borders
Ignoring innate apprehensions of history
For the sake of their own place
In the sand-drifts of destiny
As Armageddon draws a line
Encampments of the disenfranchised
Awaiting the proximity of fate
Riding on the hyperbole of others

Viewing Bonfire Night from my Bedroom, by Guy Fletcher

15/11/2019

The spectacle was like a circle
of multicoloured expanding stars
whilst the silent established ones
and half-moon watched impassively
from the terrifying blackness of space
then I pictured myself as a young boy
when this scene filled me with such awe and joy.

I briefly drifted to sleep despite the noise
dreaming of the Russian Front
and screeching Stalin Organs bringing death.
All over the city the heavens shined
transient as raindrops on a river.
It became quieter than hours before,
the moon and stars...ruling the sky once more.

(Image: Fine Art America, adapted)

Mother's Touch, by Ana Marie Dollano

15/11/2019

Though once pampered, now
they’ve withered, misshapen from years of toil,
her hands—so warm in mine.

You Smiled at My Note, by Yusriy Charles

15/11/2019

I'm happiest when I am with you
For I do not need to lie
In the form of polite conversation
In the form of an oh-so friendly smile
Inside you see, is a dullness
No addiction nor company can quench
Distractions and numbness are key
believe me, I'm happiest when I'm with you
dear friend.

The Lonely Centenarian, by Carole Novak

9/11/2019

She feeds off her sorrow.
It was bred in her before you were born.
Her grief surrounds her like a shawl.
Your embrace does nothing to dispel her pain.
Long-ago gifted items remain untouched in her drawers.
Her stained and torn attire is emblematic of her identify.
She feels only anger, resentment and self-pity.
Who is to blame?

I Am Home, by Ana Marie Dollano

8/11/2019

I wake in joyful song of
prayer
whenever I gaze at the wide
blue yonder
in appreciation and gratitude
when
I recall gentle days of
summer.

The glory of sunshine
upon my face
a breath of wind whis’pring
my name
chirping of crickets in a
frenzy.
O splendours of creation, you continue
to surprise me!

The balmy days of summer
echo souvenirs of time past
of familiar voices laughing
and chanting, “It’s my turn, it’s my turn!”
And thoughts of Grandmother, her
touch, so comforting.
Memories as these are forever
engraved in my heart.

Frosty Leaves, by Guy Fletcher

4/11/2019

The fallen gold leaves
have turned white and shine with stars,
autumn at its best.

The sun has returned
after days of dreary rain,
sky a Dali blue

and more flicker down
ripped away by a cool breeze
to chase one another.

For Archer, by Mary Wallace

2/11/2019

Where lies the greatest jewel on earth
In oceans, underground
In forest glades, on mountains high
Where can this jewel be found

Should I search then in desert lands
Deep down the silvered creek
In strongholds, banks, on princely crowns
To find the jewel I seek

There is no need to search the world
Through lands both damp or dry
The brightest jewel in all the earth
Is in my Archer’s eye.

Scottish Guy, by Gordon Lawrie

1/11/2019

I was dreamin' of the past
And my heart was beating fast
I began to lose control
I began to lose control

I didn't mean to hurt you
I'm sorry if I made you cry
I didn't want to leave the EU
But I'm just a Scottish guy

I was feeling insecure
You might not love me anymore
I was boiling up inside
I was boiling up inside

I didn't mean to hurt you
I'm sorry if I made you cry
I didn't want to leave the EU
But I'm just a Scottish guy

I was trying to catch your eyes
Thought that you was trying to hide
You didn't care about my pain
You didn't care about my pain

I didn't mean to hurt you
I'm sorry if I made you cry
I didn't want to leave the EU
But I'm just a Scottish guy

(With thanks to this guy...)

Sneezes and Wheezes, by Bruce Levine

1/11/2019

An ordinary cold is a hateful thing
With sneezes and wheezes and coughing that bring
Tremulous moments while holding one’s breath
Trying to stave off once more a feeling of death.

The mornings of glory no longer abound
The nights filled with snoring, a ghastly old sound.
With days hard to get through and work gone askew
While others are playing or getting their due.

No more feeling happy, no more feeling sad
There’s only the feeling of just feeling bad
And hope of recov’ry that once seemed so near
Is lost like a mem’ry and moments of fear.

As days filled with sneezing and wheezing move on
And glimmers of hope that this cold will be gone
For sooner or later there must be a day
When the ordinary cold has outlived its stay.

The Last Message, by Guy Fletcher

1/11/2019

Like animals they were crammed
into a lorry which criss-crossed
the continent. They paid vast sums
to human traffickers who are surely damned.
the image of a young woman plays in my mind:
pretty, Vietnamese with red lipstick
bringing the real horror to my soul,
she left her dear ones behind

her last message causing tears in my eyes
saying she was dying and stating her love
to her family thousands of miles away,
I can't imagine the awful cries.
the door was opened but far too late,
39 sufficated bodies met the gaze
of those who witnessed the sickening scene,
nobody should ever suffer such a fate.

they were trapped inside a mobile tomb
and although the world mourns now
you can be certain it will soon forget
as we hear other tales of doom.
but the the woman's last message haunts me,
she was told our streets were paved with gold
yet only sightless eyes stared
in a lorry full of corpses...crossing the sea.

No Matter Where I Roam, by Ana Marie Dollano

1/11/2019

Sunny skies and summery winds and
starlit sultry nights,
a land that boasts of coconut, mango
trees and cosy nipa huts,
But one day the rains they lashed and
ravaged with mighty forceful blows
and there amid the chaos shone a fellowship,
no matter where I roam.

Poetry

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