We would like to take this opportunity of thanking all our poets for their support. Also, however, we would like to remind everyone that it helps us enormously if poets include a brief bio with every submission (even if it is the same one as last time) and make a final check to ensure that links are live. Sometimes, when we are up against the clock, it is exasperating to discover at twenty past midnight that not only has the link been photocopied but not activated but that you have to do a search on the blog to locate the most recent bio. Formatting can be problematic too so, if at all possible, keep it simple.
Right, that said, this week we kicked off with stars and oranges in the form of Maurice Devitt's delightful 'Keppler's Conjecture'. This was followed on Tuesday by Janice Louland's brief and pithy comment on the crisis in the Ukraine, 'Bite the hand which feeds'. 'Wouldn't it be great if we were all friends' is, I hope, a sentiment that we all can share in.
Our poem on Wednesday was 'EYES AND TEETH' by John D. Kirwan which, Hamish tells me, appeared originally in an incorrect format. This, it seems, may have been our fault and quite a different matter to the formatting point made above so we send out apologies. It is worth mentioning, though, that sometimes formatting is changed 'in transit' and, if you have concerns, either send as plain text or in a document.
Thursday's poem was Darrell Petska's touchingly titled 'In Syria, Small Beds Lie Empty' with its haunting question 'Oh Syria, where are your children?' 'You squander
the seeds of your future' is the poem's poignant warning. Sadly, it is not only in Syria that it can be applied today.
On Friday, we concluded the week with a poem that I would love to have written. It was 'Lunch is Out (After Cole Porter and Kirsty MacColl' and, although I am more of a fan on the Ella Fitzgerald rendition, I am sure that Mr Porter would have approved since his lyrics, I believe, contain more social commentary than many people would give him credit for. Anyway, this I think is a powerful poem written with wit and deftness. Thank you, Michael Gallagher. That's all from me for now.