Blog Posts

A Beautiful World, by Philip Galfano

19/6/2019

I envision a beautiful world
a world inhabited by people
whose characters are defined by love
kindness and respect for each other.
One in which all people can live together
in harmony and peace.
I envision a world where people cherish trust
dignity for all and have faith in each other
one where all lives count
no matter of what color,race,gender or nationality,
where guns are replaced by hugs and acceptance
a world we can call our home,
one in which our children are nestled and raised
not by the fear of uncertainty but rather
by the assurance of a safe future.
I envision a world where egoism and hate
are supplanted by goodness and generosity,
a world where a helping hand takes the place
of a shooting one,
one in which laughter and joy are a substitute
for tears and sadness.
This the world for which I hope.

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The Hill Farm, by Adrian McRobb

14/6/2019

Harvest toil with that black eye
cooking at the peat hearth
with a livid slap mark
loving but love never returned
only contempt and mental cruelty

She writes her pain into this landscape
forming words out of passing clouds
dreaming of escape but missing him too
each blow hammers another nail
into the coffin of her disconsolate life...

A Tribute to Justin Edinburgh, by Guy Fletcher

14/6/2019

How swiftly triumph turned into disaster:
Justin steered good old Leyton Orient
back into the football league
thrown up high by his team
right to the top of the world.
He played for Spurs for many a year,
so many team-mates would have shed a tear

for he was fit and not even fifty,
the world at his feet, far too young
to be snatched away by the Grim Reaper
and the manager who replaces him
might sense a ghost in the office
but he lived and breathed the beautiful game
and football fans...will remember his name.

Love Again, by Philip Galfano

13/6/2019

When the night lowers its wings
and descends like a bird
over my broken heart,
like a derelict battered by the storm
I search for refuge into your welcoming heart.
My soul like the Phoenix regenerates
and clings to your comforting body
leading us to a safe place.
There we will find love again.

I'm Green, by Phyllis Souza

11/6/2019

I’m green

I’m the green in lush flora
Like a virus, I spread over the earth

I’m the green in lacy ferns, grassy meadows
And the towering pines in the forest

I’m the green in a garland of Spanish moss
Hanging from branches of old oaks

I’m the green in murky water
And the algae growing within

I’m the Green Giant
My picture is on cartons of frozen vegetables

I’m Green!

Sicily, by Philip Galfano

11/6/2019

Sicily: this is my land,
calling me through the voice
of her people,of her music
and of her history.
She pleads for my return
there where I was born
and spent the happiest days
of my childhood.
This is the land of my people,
of my mother and my father,
of my grandparents and great-grandparents.
This is our land.
This is her voice that resounds like an echo
penetrating the hidden paths
of my fragile existence.
I would like to stretch myself
carry my body beyond the shores
of her heart and of her womb
and find myself a child again
along the meadows of my youth.
Sicily: land of joy and of tears ,
of sorrow and of songs,
we live and we die faraway
or nearby.
Finding me again among people I knew
experiences I lived
and seeing myself a child,
reliving the days bygone
the dreams not fulfilled.
This is my land.

Cumulus Clouds Over the City, by Guy Fletcher

10/6/2019

From the summit of the Wenallt I view
cumulus clouds slowly rising,
drifting in from over the Channel.
They are as snow-covered mountains,
thunder groans like a far off bomb.
A rainbow which arcs above the South Wales coast
fades and then disappears as if a ghost

as seagulls shriek warning of storms
with rain which may turn into hail.
The dark clouds peer down on our little boxes
where we consider ourselves important
though as transient as mornng dew
but the huge cumulus clouds which tower
have a glorious, frightening power.

Undertow, by Adrian McRobb

7/6/2019

Your arm curled
with a wave
waving back
wading
your hair
sea-weed washed
skin; of tiny pearls
sharp teeth

You held my hand
and we walked together
into that deeper part
undulating
in that older rhythm
moving with liquidity
serpent coils of foam
sight of land lost

Lungs bursting
in ecstasy

Six Years to Paradise, by Mary Wallace

7/6/2019

Western Myanmar was no place to raise a family, yet the decision to leave was still heart wrenching.

Their dream was Australia, but their new home was a Malaysian detention centre.

Six long years, Australia and her safety proved elusive.

Six years sustained only by a dream, eventually the news of their acceptance came.

Leaving was no burden.

They found paradise in Australia, he found employment, their dream of paradise became a reality.

Five months later, he pulled over to check his load and a truck straddling the service road was unable to stop.

Paradise lost.

Like a Dream, by Philip Galfano

7/6/2019

Like a dream
I looked for you tonight,
I looked for you once again
among wandering shadows
in the night filled with moonlight
softly settling over abandoned paths
inside my heart.
I looked for you in my thoughts
inside yours,
imagining you immersed in peace
and solitude:
but you weren’t there,
just faded memories
of a spring afternoon
seated in a corner of your garden
my heart overflowed with joy.
I saw you look at me
at my face inside yours,
your eyes,like two red sparks,
offered a soft caress
to my trembling body:
I felt alive.
From faraway,a wandering song
drifted through deserted paths
reaching me.
Suddenly I felt your heart beating,
we looked at each other
eyes vibrating with hidden emotions,
I extended my hand into yours
but you like a dream, had already vanished
into the sunlight.

The Car Door, by Mary Wallace

6/6/2019

She stands,
Eyes brimming,
Cheek burning,
Waiting,
for the car door
that signals him gone.

Is it enough,
to make her brave?
That slapped cheek,
or broken bones,
bruised ribs,
black eyes, cut lips.

What will it take?
her hope is gone,
her dreams are shattered,
her body is broken,
her love is rejected,
her heart aches.

What will it take,
to find her courage,
to pack suitcases,
to leave,
to walk out
and start over again?

What will it take,
what last piece of strength
must she find,
what last piece of dignity
must she lose
to be ready to run
when that car door slams?

My Wishes, by Philip Galfano

4/6/2019

I would like to close my eyes
and find myself a child again
along the meadows
by the sunny rubbles
that surrounded my house.
Finding myself there again
immersed in a chaotic emptiness
that peeked through innocently
from beyond the walls slaughtered
by horrors of war,
and yet in that chaotic emptiness
I saw my schoolmates again,
and everything that created in me
the desire to go back there
in that part of my life
that doesn’t exist anymore.

Black Smoke over the Arizona, by Guy Fletcher

3/6/2019

The young sailor dreamt of his lover
deep into a Pearl Harbor Saturday night
and maybe imagined he was still
locked into the land of sleep
as the Japanese planes attacked.
The ship was sunk to the sound of screams,
youthful lads never to achieve their dreams

with the young sailor now sleeping forever.
Black smoke over the Arizona:
more than a thousand perished on this ship alone
lying in the shallow harbour water,
a steel tomb you can hear creak
as if the spirits of the poor doomed crew
the fish indifferent...to the tragic view.

The Feral Woman, by Lola Stansbury-Jones

2/6/2019

The feral woman is an omen
like bug infested fruit.
Spoiling on the inside,
spilling out across the attic floor.

Ravaging lace and flesh,
she impersonates a female.
A martyr of motherhood
they’ll make of her yet.

The wilderness of womanhood
is a utopia for the lamb
pretending she does not see
the slaughterhouse before her.

Ungodly, she stares down car headlights,
about as much use now as roadkill.
Soul rapture;
like pulling trash out of a lake.

The seed of submission
nesting in the belly of a god.
This rampage of tenderness
will make a woman of her yet.

You're Gonna Miss Me, by Ian Fletcher

2/6/2019

A tribute to Roky Erickson 1947-2019

You were a pioneer way back in 1965
refusing to graduate from high school
because you would not cut your hair
writing an immortal song at just nineteen
that is part of the rock’n’roll pantheon.

But demons tormented your soul
robbing you of your youthful years
spent forcibly institutionalized
until you came through the pain
to grace the musical world again.

So goodbye psychedelic warrior
you were a man poetic and oblique
your sweet music a unique memorial
created in that zone you described
as where the pyramid meets the eye.

The Flat by, Adrian McRobb

31/5/2019

Where is the girl with the sad eyes
staring out the window at trains
the girl with the long weekends
she can't fill

The new one isn't nice
has parties, dances with heavy feet

We miss the wraith, quiet, mouse silent
a no-one in silence

Present tenant breaks switches
slams doors and doesn't paint flowers

We miss the girl who cries friendless
wishing the weekends away

She just went...with him
we thought she would return
we were wrong...

Who Would've Thought? by Robert Steward

29/5/2019

Who would’ve thought
When I entered the school
Our eyes would meet
Like cobalt blue marbles?

Who would’ve thought
Your smile would curl up,
Would make my heart skip,
And make me feel young?

Who would’ve thought
When I talked about home
Your heart would melt
Like pistachio ice-cream?

Who would’ve thought
Our story would last,
Would burn like a fire,
And never go out?

Your Voice, by Philip Galfano

28/5/2019

I still hear your voice
kindling my memories
and reawakening deep desires
in my heart,
the very same voice
that quivered with anticipation
over bed sheets consummated
during nights of love making,
and letting ourselves go
to so many overwhelming desires
in the shadow of the night
that peeked timidly from behind the shutters.
I still ache for that voice
that filled my soul with fragments of life,
of your life into mine,
then I let myself go
and what is left now is a gentle sound of time
that whispers those passions
we lived and fulfilled.

Summits of the Seven Continents, by Guy Fletcher

28/5/2019

The American ascended the highest peaks
of all Earth's seven continents.
What exhilaration he must have felt
and yet insignificant as well
as wild winds roared and he crunched on snow,
true freedom like an angel in the clouds
far away from the maddening crowds.

But descending from mighty Everest
altitude sickness claimed his soul
yet he had fulfilled his ambition
and who amongst us can claim as much?
And I wonder if his ghost roams
those lonely peaks high above where we fret,
up there you could be a god...and forget.

The Futility of Experience, by Ian Fletcher

24/5/2019

When we are young
we seek experiences
needing them in fact
to build up knowledge
of the world to search
for our own answers
to the eternal questions
confronting humankind
yet the tragedy inheres
in that the accumulation
of experiences we find
dulls our responsiveness
and blunts our minds
thus draining not filling
the vessel of wisdom
as if forming a shell
around the soft kernel
of an uncrackable nut
shutting us off forever
from the essence of life.

Poetry is White, by Adrian McRobb

24/5/2019

Poetry is white
like the bowl
measure for measure

so the earth
and it's symbiotic percentages
flour, yeast, water, salt
and kneading

fire, water, carbon, air
and pressure
measure for measure...

Kindly Leave the Stage, by Gordon Lawrie

24/5/2019

Bob Dylan is 78 today. These are actually song lyrics.

Kindly leave the stage my friend
The lights are going down
Your part is nearly at an end
You must lay down your crown
Time and tide they wait for no one
Least of all they wait for you
Now you must watch from the wings
The rest is not for you to do

You said the times they are a-changin'
They always were, they always will
But now it seems we're only tryin'
To make the time stand still

Take another bow my friend
But this must be your last
The curtain falling at your feet
Must be a veil across your past
Your one-night stand is nearly over
Tomorrow will bring a different show
Your audience is swiftly leaving
They've got a long way to go

You said the times they are a-changin'
They always were, they always will
But now it seems we're only tryin'
To make the time stand still.

Memories of a Summer Evening, by Philip Galfano

22/5/2019

Memories of a summer evening
Fond memories of a summer evening,
the moon shined timidly on our window-sill
while you tendered your hand
to a furtive ray of light that landed softly
over your uncovered breast revealing
overwhelming desires and deep emotions
not yet consummated.
As we laid in bed close to each other
one into the other
I turned and graciously grazed your angel face
that reflected my thoughts on your welcoming body.
I offered my arms to you and you gently
surrendered to me as we shared our love
under the light of the moon filtering through.

Pink Roses, by Guy Fletcher

20/5/2019

Pink roses bloom every year
in my neighbour's garden.
Today they are admired by "new" people
for the old lady has passed.
She used to love to watch the roses sway
on warm azure days in the the month of May

but they are ancestors though appear the same
just like butterflies and wasps hovering
and the robin perched on an urban branch
more ruthless than his form suggests.
Now children's voices fill the springtime air,
the lonely woman...is no longer there.

Morpeth Assizes 1742, by Adrian McRobb

17/5/2019

Seven men seven seals
hemp rope kicked heels
names written lots drawn
watery bowels greet dawn
accused tried now caged
men picked deed staged
noose tied ten feet
rough box no sheet
priests sign starts dance
late reprieve no chance
crowd quiet held breath
prisoners hope quick death
John Stuart, Joseph Hall
Margaret Dunn, Peter Ball
blind justice looks down
black door gold crown
milk stools knocked away
four lives end today
seven men seven seals
hemp rope kicked heels...

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