Blog Posts

F-Stop Magic, by Sterling Warner

6/9/2024

Time lapse cameras capture
heavenly maelstroms, starlight
streaking night skies like raindrops
falling in phosphorescent stripes
that flash as brightly as fireflies
piercing clouds, setting them aglow;
dewdrops on tree branches reflect
brilliant electrical discharges
before they flicker like faerie wings
losing their dragonfly luster, spreading
enchanted dust, surfing on airstreams
that mingle then blend with evening mists
shake off a cosmic mantle, fade behind
hills quenching its kaleidoscope glory.

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The Horse Drawn Carriage, by Guy Fletcher

30/8/2024

Last night I had a time-travel dream,
before that for an hour or so
I had studied a photograph on the wall
in the Saracen's Head, Beddgelert:
a horse drawn carriage had stopped outside.
It must have been about 1910 or so
the exact date impossible to know.

Men and women in impeccable attire
posed on the top of the carriage,
three lads in flat caps stood by a wheel
and in my dream I was upstairs
panicking because I did not belong
with these people who have long since passed
and reminding me...that nothing can last.

Just Like You, by Mimi Grouse

2/8/2024

I cried out and nobody heard me;
You turned your backs when I died;
When the clouds of despair oppressed me,
You said you were friends. You lied.

I was alone, afraid, and lonely
In a country that wasn't my own;
When I begged someone to help me,
All I heard were the words, "Go home!"

But you all enjoy cheap labour
Doing tasks you don't want to do;
Subhuman stuff from somewhere:
No. I had feelings, just like you.

Leper's Walk, by Guy Fletcher

26/7/2024

Behind the trees St Illtyd's church
stares onto picturesque Oxwich Bay
where the sea sparkles with gems
and seagulls scream a lament
to all those lost in the ocean.
I stroll to this church on the Gower coast,
it's one of the places I love the most.

There's a narrow window where lepers
used to watch the service within
wishing that Jesus would mend their bodies
and hoping he could heal their souls.
Yes, I walk in the footsteps of lepers
who perhaps gained precious moments of relief,
a temporary escape...from their grief.

To Every Nation, by John O’Keefe

12/7/2024

A higher being has promised
to shield you from peril
until your team begins
wholesale killing the other team
to put points on the board.

Invader, by Mimi Grouse

12/7/2024

Death dressed up comes striding through the door.
a uniformed young man all smiles
and stony eyes
and fingers itching
to kill.
who taught you to hate?
did you drink loathing with your mother's milk
or eat your father's meat of prejudice?
intoxicated
you became a vessel for
Death
striding into hapless people's houses
to ravage and
destroy.

Integral, by John O’Keefe

5/7/2024

Only upright men deserve their title,
men liberated from avarice and haste,
peace is earned when herd mania dissipates.

Doomed Voyage, by Guy Fletcher

5/7/2024

On June 15th, 1910
Captain Scott's Terra Nova set sail
although he was not on board at the time.
Cheering crowds and Union Jacks filled the air
as it slowly drifted out to sea
unaware of ultimate despair
tugs minute by its side
with her mighty sails at half mast
in weather so different from the blizzards
that would cause such pain and death.
"I may be some time," as Captain Oates famously stated.
Yes, it sailed off with great hope
but, alas, the journey was not as planned
leading to a white tomb in a far land.

After all these Years, by Guy Fletcher

28/6/2024

I venture into my old pub
for the first time in decades
and in a corner I see him,
eyes as sad as a mourning mother
halcyon days far into the past
but still with a drink after all these years
now with trembling hands he consumes the beers.

Oh he used to be king of the bar
with laughter filling the smoky air
but today there are just ghosts
as he sits forlorn and alone,
what troubled thoughts invade his mind?
Our eyes lock and then a slight smile appears,
I move by his side...after all these years.

For David, by Gordon Lawrie

28/6/2024

This afternoon, perhaps even as you're reading this, I'll be attending the funeral of a valued former colleague with whom I shared another common interest. He'll be missed by many – GL

So long, my friend.
I’ll remember you fondly in the coming years.
Whenever I sought a kindly ear
You were there to listen, slow to judge
Giving cautious advice with the lightest touch.

I’ll miss the football chatter
About Hearts, the things that matter.
But this is promotion, you’re moving on.
And if next season’s fixtures aren’t quite the same
You’ll be all right, you played the game.

We’ll meet in the top league before too long
But you were different class all along.

Wrecking It, by John O’Keefe

28/6/2024

On the Via Dolorosa,
when the pilgrimage of the haughty collides
with the pilgrimage of the shiftless,
after fighting it out they mingle happily,
no one can tell them apart in pomposity,
their clamorous prayer every creature can hear.

The Addressee covers his ears and closes his eyes,
His preference is for silent worship and nothing spectacular,
and He also wants to avoid splitting headache and nausea.

Pink Roses in the Park, by Guy Fletcher

21/6/2024

She strolls around the welcoming park
the chains of the four walls just a memory
under a sky painted a Dali blue,
thin white clouds brush-stroked by the gods.
Verdant trees hiss in the warm breeze,
she watches with wonder as pink roses sway,
her troubles forgotten on this summer's day.

On a bench a drunken man rants
but only she listens to his angst
as she moves to where the roses dance,
their petals seemingly sprinkled with jewels
after the early morning rain
which adds such fragrance to the sultry air,
yes now she has cast away despair.

Broken, by Mimi Grouse

21/6/2024

You've been so long
in horrid isolation
it seems as though
you'll never speak again
because the silence
of the broken
is like the clappers
of the leper:
bigots and their acolytes
shun pain.

Blankets, by Mimi Grouse

14/6/2024

We wash our blankets one by one
And spread them out beneath the sun
To dry
Then pack them into air-tight bags -
Those faithful, brightly-coloured rags -
Goodbye
Until old Autumn rolls around
And crispy leaves conceal the ground;
The sky
Is grey with swollen clouds;
The wind is cold, and strong, and loud...
It's time
To bring them out once more -
That's just what we've been waiting for!

The Graves of St. Mary's, by Guy Fletcher

14/6/2024

I wander into the grounds
of St. Mary's in Whitchurch
on a sultry Sunday morning.
I hear a mellifluous hymn from the church opposite
whose doors are open due to the heat
adding to the tranquil ambiance.
I come across the tomb of Gordon Hughes,
a hero from the RAF, killed in 1944,
in the churchyard lie people of all ages
as a butterfly flickers, indifferent.
I notice there are two clocks on the ancient tower
both showing different times
and in this graveyard surrounded by trees
tulips sway gently...in the warm spring breeze.

White Nights in St. Petersburg, by Mary Anne Mc Enery

7/6/2024

Remember remember, those white nights in St. Petersburg?
Nights as bright as day.
Flashed flashed, your petrodollars about in the casino, overtipped the stiff-shirted waiters and draped my neck in Ural gold.
Tongued tongued, caviar off the backs of our hands, and downed vodka shots galore.
Shimmied shimmied, beside canals, with a floating orchestra and a draw-bridge that rose up like a see-saw to accommodate the gravid gondolas underneath.
Kissed Kissed, to feather the pain of my empty nest within, our fingers intertwined liked twigs.
Danced danced, in La La Land, frantic to forget the arctic winter that loomed ahead.

A Failure in the Way We Communicate, by Michael H. Brownstein

7/6/2024

This is how stuff starts
a rumor on the bus becomes
a lie in the classroom becomes
a kicking on the playground
a cloud of audience
a liter of disbelief.

Seasons of Discontent, by Mimi Grouse

7/6/2024

'Give us sunshine!' people say.
'Fed up with seeing rain all day.
Take this gloom and damp away!'
(Scowl at heating bill to pay)
'We want to go outside and play.'

'Ooh, innit warm?' they all complain.
'Wish we'd have a drop of rain.
The clouds show up then go again.'
(Slurp a glass of lime and cane)
'If we want heat, we'll move to Spain!'

Piper Bill, by Guy Fletcher

7/6/2024

On D-Day at Sword Beach
the haunting sound of bagpipes rang out
as the dying painted the sand red,
a terrible and surreal scene.
The Germans refused to shoot the piper,
they must have thought his reason had gone
and so brave Piper Bill marched on and on.

What terrors the troops would have felt
during that unforgettable time
but Piper Bill Millin survived the war
retiring to sedate Dawlish town
part of him forever by another shore
and perhaps the sound of bagpipes and his ghost
still haunts the historic Normandy coast.

Verdict, by Barbara Anna Gaiardoni

31/5/2024

Nah, he's guilty. Jurors looked past wealth, past fame and past celebrity. Proud of their work and ourselves.
No one is above the law.

red-bellied turtle
add the tomatoes

Firefly, Firefly, by Jeremy Leariwala

24/5/2024

Firefly, firefly my elusive neighbour;
Where did you spend the winter?
Where is your abode domiciled?
Active at night, what d’you do at day?
And, where else do you fly at?

Firefly, firefly my mysterious neighbour;
Tell me; why & whom do you blink for?
Say you have a fuelling station yonder.
When do you go for refuelling or recharging?
And, when is your lights-off?

Firefly, firefly my extraordinary neighbour;
I finally came with your compliments.
Among luminescent, you’re just humble;
Your soundless flights are the friendlier;
And, you are a wonder: magical yet harmless!

Danielle’s Convex Surface, by Sterling Warner

24/5/2024

Danielle powdered her pale cheeks
and forehead, both as soft as tennis ball fluff,
while she gazed into a looking glass heirloom.

Cautiously, her mother’s face and niece’s profile
emerged from polished metal shadows
yet Danielle kept intimate awakenings to herself
and avoided verbal comparisons that other
people might pretentiously identify and critique
as literary clichés rather than personal epiphanies.

Harkening back to drawing rooms and deathbed
mirrors that capture souls most progeny appreciate,
a mother’s reflection gave Danielle enduring counsel.

The May light has Faded, by Guy Fletcher

24/5/2024

The May light has faded,
she hears the birds sing,
trees have lost their colour
now becoming sinister,
their branches swaying in the spring breeze.
She stares at the city below
illuminated with urban lights,
each house with its own little dramas
perhaps worthy of Shakespeare's pen.
The indifferent moon is full,
a cat strolls down the street
and there's a shiver in her soul
for she is alone with just her fear
as darkness deepens...the night cold and clear.

Binarism, by John O’Keefe

17/5/2024

The crux of the matter
most everywhere
is
you’re rich or you’re broke,
you’re white or you’re dark.

In Palestine
it is
you’re armed or you’re harmed.

The Empty River, by Guy Fletcher

17/5/2024

She stares into the meandering river
painted azure by the summer sky.
It seems to sparkle with a myriad of gems
as she remembers days gone by
wishing times had never changed
for although everything appears serene
it really is just a tragic scene

sewage contaminating the water
and all the swimmers have disappeared.
She recalls their names and laughter
wiping away a stray tear
viewing ghosts in the tranquil river,
wild swimmers for a while without a care
now in her soul...there is only despair.

<<Previous

Forward>>

F-Stop Magic, by Sterling Warner

The Horse Drawn Carriage, by Guy Fletcher

Just Like You, by Mimi Grouse

Leper's Walk, by Guy Fletcher

To Every Nation, by John O’Keefe

Invader, by Mimi Grouse

Integral, by John O’Keefe

Doomed Voyage, by Guy Fletcher

After all these Years, by Guy Fletcher

For David, by Gordon Lawrie

Wrecking It, by John O’Keefe

Pink Roses in the Park, by Guy Fletcher

Broken, by Mimi Grouse

Blankets, by Mimi Grouse

The Graves of St. Mary's, by Guy Fletcher

White Nights in St. Petersburg, by Mary Anne Mc Enery

A Failure in the Way We Communicate, by Michael H. Brownstein

Seasons of Discontent, by Mimi Grouse

Piper Bill, by Guy Fletcher

Verdict, by Barbara Anna Gaiardoni

Firefly, Firefly, by Jeremy Leariwala

Danielle’s Convex Surface, by Sterling Warner

The May light has Faded, by Guy Fletcher

Binarism, by John O’Keefe

The Empty River, by Guy Fletcher

Poetry

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