Blog Archives

The Trees are Burning, by Guy Fletcher

28/12/2019

On the other side of the world
the trees are burning, wildlife
and people die but the sun doesn't care.
The landscape is scarred, the trees charred,
whole communities destroyed
and everyone rational knows what's to blame,
on television I watch the flames

but can't imagine the feeling
of householders staring at a blackened space
where they spent so many years,
so many years and so many tears.
Helicopters spray water with scant effect,
when the fire dies it might well return
and the parched earth...once again burn.

Caverns of Eternity, by Adrian McRobb

27/12/2019

Before torches
cold crested breath
noisy boots
damaging silence
daggers in ears

A time of quiet
lasted centuries
no light, no noise
just the drip drip
of a water clock

Counting down eternity
in saltine structures
every six inches, a hundred years
stalactites meet stalagmites
a century in gypsum salt

Ballerinas dance and sparkle
in crystalline tutu's
legs in Swan Lake tights
on point in rock salt shoes
in darkness chimes

We savour the surface
embracing light
names echo
in silence
and are still

Water drips
splashing trickles
salt climbs on salt
years continue
an unstoppable clock
in the dark...

Snowy Night, by Bruce Levine

27/12/2019

It snood, it snowed, it’s snowing
The ground is covered in white
And even our dog’s footprints
Will certainly not last through the night

Children are outside playing
Choosing up sides left and right
Piling up mounds of the white stuff
In preparation for a snowball fight

Looking out through the window
Safe and warm inside
I cast a giant shadow
Happy where I can hide

And so I’ll leave the day to the snowplows
Who struggle along in their plight
Smoothing the roads and the sidewalks
And to all I wish a good night

A Tribute to Martin Peters (1943–2019), by Ian Fletcher

22/12/2019

The deaths of men like these
come like body blows to me
for he was my boyhood hero
a player then in his golden prime
a part of Alf Ramsey’s sublime
Three Lions football team
one of only two Englishmen
to score in a World Cup Final.
Ten years ahead of his time
his wise old manager said
of this attacking midfielder
a pioneer of the modern game.
But though the ref has blown
the final whistle on his life
for me and my generation
he has achieved immortality:
we shall not see his like again.

A Winter Evening, by Guy Fletcher

20/12/2019

A winter evening, dark and dreary:
rain weeps down the window pane
and the circular bedroom light
is poor compensation for the sun.
The gale whistles a sinister song,
he feels claustrophobic trapped in the room,
too much time to contemplate thoughts of gloom.

A cloud like a giant soaking duvet
had stretched from east to west
but then sinks onto the horizon
allowing moon and stars to bless the night
so he wanders into the fresh air,
breathes deeply with his problems flying high
to the bleak clouds...which once menaced the sky.

A Woman's Tale, by Julie Achilles

20/12/2019

Who is this woman standing here?
tis not a lady of conscious clear,
whose time on earth was not spent praying,
of dubious character so many are saying.

As death takes hold and her spirit vacates,
she stands before the pearly gates,
and, as they open she enters in,
St. Peter smiles and tells her 'is not all mankind full of sin'?

Christmas Wishes, by Bruce Levine

20/12/2019

Christmas wishes
Happen once a year
In times of joy
And times of cheer

Lending mem’ries
And sharing dreams
Happy endings
With friends it seems

Brightly lighting
The festive yule
As children enjoy
Days off from school

To good companions
And to all those dear
A Merry Christmas
And Happy New Year

Of Age, by Julie Achilles

13/12/2019

The threads of the woman's life unravel-
like an old garment no longer of any use.
She will not look into the mirror anymore,
the mirror lies and she does not trust it.

She sits alone at her rickety table to admire-
the signs of its age, its scratched surface.
Her eyes close to the view through her grimy window,
denying how the moon sparkles over the sea.

Crumbling walls and rusted nails hold up nothing,
youth and beauty lost and days of laughter gone,
But in her mind there are memories,
Age- like an advancing army destroyer of all.

She knows her homeland will survive, its beauty lasting,
this land of sparkling seas and orange sunsets,
It is her that must bear the decay,
and still her eyes linger on the image held by a rusted nail.

Evergreen, by Sterling Warner

13/12/2019

boughs
hang
pinecone
heavy as
silhouette Christians
adopt traditions align the
nativity with winter’s solstice, adorn tables
with yuletide camellias, Christmas
haggis, teaming neeps,
tatties, toast
auld lang
syne
days

Mountain Evening, by Yash Seyedbagheri

13/12/2019

over snow-bathed peaks
across the valley, wide and sparse in numbers
of souls
evening casts slate-blue shadows
mingling with moon, white over the snowbanks,
through rising pines
along unpaved country roads and winding trails filled with
mud and ice-patches and old pine needles
clear and sharp
air cool

Snow on Aberystwyth Beach, by Guy Fletcher

13/12/2019

Starlings shelter under the picturesque pier
as snowflakes dance to their death
in the cold indifferent Atlantic
which has swallowed countless ships and sailors.
The snow is as white as the breakers
sizzling on the sand of this western shore,
a young woman listens to the sea's roar

admiring the rare sight of snow,
forgetting woes for a while.
A dog rushes into the freezing depths
then shakes water from its fur
as starlings take-off into the grey sky:
in swirling formation like a black ghost,
a magical sight on this windswept coast.

The Eyes Have It, by Ian Fletcher

6/12/2019

Look into another’s eyes
and hold fast their gaze
whether that of a stranger
or of one more familiar
and note as the thin veils
of humanity strip away
what you will observe
in this mutual equipoise
is that we mortals are nights
solitary darknesses containing
the whole vast universe
and all imaginable thought
voids merging into voids
of elemental nothingness.

War Criminal, by Adrian McRobb

6/12/2019

They said you had enough
of war
bodies in lime
"Welcome to Sarajevo!"
they said

The Hague, mumbled
but...didn't see
the blind eyes
in lime

Chalk blind ears
origami birds
deaf, to all but
business as usual...

Stars, by Julie Achilles

6/12/2019

A sky lit by a thousand sparkling stars,
And a moon full and dominant in the night-sky,
Sand that is made-up of billions of tiny fragments-
of diamonds- sent down from the gods as a gift.
I listen to the gentle sounds of the sea and recall-
the laughter of children when the brightest sun-shone,
and scorched their skin.

Now I stand alone with only the stars for company,
I know what lies beyond the sea and I do not seek it- as you did,
My tired eyes look to the heavens and I cry out to the gods-
as they reign there as they once did on this land-
I hear the owl on her nightly search for prey-
and, I think of all that I have lost.

Gabriel's Message, by Mary Daurio

2/12/2019

The sweet-faced innocent girl stooped down, after a day's work in her mother’s kitchen, taking worn sandals off her aching feet. Prayers she wanted to skip, but couldn't, a dutiful daughter to family and God. Her black hair cascaded around her shoulders as she bowed her head.

Bright light crossed the threshold. Mary was surprised but not fearful of the shining angel. Gabriel delivered the message, “ You have found favour with the Lord. You will give birth to a son, Jesus.”

“On the off chance you might change your mind, God, I’m not saying my prayers tonight.”

Santa's Mind, by Mark Tulin

2/12/2019

I was born with special intuitive powers. Since I was a child, I knew what people wanted, what my mother needed, father, expected, and what my siblings were thinking. I could even see people doing stuff telepathically and, of course, stopped watching when they were engaging in naughty behavior.

I was anal about caring for people who were nice. I wrote down my thoughts in list form: My family needs, what friends desired, and surprises for my teachers. They were never disappointed, but when there was a falling out between me and them, all my gifts were null and void.

Poetry

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