Tuesday, 31 October 2017

Paper Cuts

Small wounds that tip my fingers, dirt on snow,
while color ads for clothes this spring prevail.
My morning cuts, like flowers in a row,
scant outerwear for skin resembling kale!

Each year this happens and I’m not sure why
unless the paper that I use takes on new life:
Typing, photo, greeting cards--I’m shy
revealing cuts that make one think of strife.

Bandages go limp in dish-pans, showers.
Since I am loathe to re-apply them twice,
I go about my chores, while joy goes sour,
yet keeping spring in mind because it’s nice.

Buffer me from winter woes, not words,
then push me smartly south right now with birds.

© Kay Weeks

Limit on 401(k) Savings? It’s About Paying for Tax Cuts

Kay Weeks worked for 30 years for the US National Parks Service in the area of National Historic Preservation, retiring in 2005. She writes and publishes poetry in the US and the UK.

Monday, 30 October 2017

Normal People

A foreign world, nothing I could imagine

People, real people doing different things

They're weird and unusual but it seems,...well...just normal

Normal people, normal people...

No extremism, no radicals, no IS


A foreign world I don't understand, I must brown my face

Who's ever seen a white Muslim?...I must brown my face

Lots of people doing the same thing, in a mosque

It looks normal, normal like a church congregation

No radicals, no IS


Hijabs and skull caps, a foreign world I don't understand

I must brown my face, wear a hijab and see for myself

Why do I fear them?

They're different because I'm white

So, I will fit in...I'll brown my face and wear a hijab

I'm the same now, normal people, normal...


No IS

© Robin Welsh

My Week as a Muslim might be 2017's most divisive show

Robin Welsh writes poems and rhymes daily about all life in general...but mainly politics, human rights and world affairs. Performing at every opportunity he can get, not yet published because of procrastination.

Sunday, 29 October 2017

Pay to Pollute

C-charge
T-charge
Why is it OK

to congest
and pollute
London

So long as you pay?

© Janine Booth

T-Charge: New London traffic charge comes into force

Janine Booth lives in Hackney, East London. She writes and performs poetry, and has had three slim volumes of poetry published. Janine posts poems and political polemics at www.janinebooth.com

Saturday, 28 October 2017

He's Never Done That Before!

O sacré bleu and zut allors!
That wretched beast that walks on paws,
During high level discussions complicated
Into an Élysée fireplace urinated.

What a place to make a show!
A rescued black Labrador called Nemo,
Ungrateful to Monsieur Macron and his wife
For providing him with a luxurious lease of life.

Yet still the president of France
Seems ready to take another chance,
Greeting world leaders intent on deals
With the insolent mutt about his heels

And when they rush for the exit door
Avoiding a steaming pool upon the floor,
Our Emmanuel smiles and with a roar
Declares ‘He’s never done that before!’

© David Subacchi

French President Emmanuel Macron's dog Nemo interrupts meeting, pees on fireplace

David Subacchi lives in Wales (UK) where he was born of Italian roots. He studied at the University of Liverpool and has 4 published collections of his English Language poetry: First Cut (2012), Hiding in Shadows (2014), Not Really a Stranger (2016) and A Terrible Beauty (2016) as well as a collection in Welsh: Eglwys Yng Nghremona (2016).

Friday, 27 October 2017

Top Cat

The Kiwis have got a new dream team:
a female PM by the name of Jacinda
who after winning can’t stop grinning
- just like the cat that got the cream -
and Paddles, a polydactyl cute kitten,
who, though she has multiple thumbs,
will be the premier’s right paw feline.
It was fairly recent they became chums
but it is the pussy with ginger/white fur
who will keep the new leader in line.
She may purr docilely but she’ll demur
if the laws of the land become asinine.
Jacinda is First Lady but she knows that
she is always subservient to the First Cat.

© Luigi Pagano

New Zealand's 'first cat' and other political pets

Luigi Pagano has published three collections of poems: ‘Idle Thoughts’, ’Reflections’ and ‘Poetry On Tap’. His work has been featured in ABCTales’ magazines,UKAuthors’ anthologies, Poetry24 and several other publications.

Thursday, 26 October 2017

Of the overmorrow

brilliance of summer flowers
bow down to
placated autumnal hews
as most say their goodbyes
until the lightness of
the queens of spring

only the stoically hardy few
remain aware
frightened by apnoea
seduced by the grandiloquence
of sedition -
fight or flight against
the ravages of time
solipsistic adventures
betwixt the avenues
of ice and heat
light and dark
collectivism and solitude

the few that emerge onto
late winters sparse bounty
revive scent trails
towards the renewal
and the cycle
that ever was
until now

where once every exit
was an entrance
of labyrinthine proportions
only closed signs hang taut
alchemical approbation
abandonment atoned
in the underworld
of the overmorrow’s

want

© Shaun Parrin

Scientists warn of 'ecological Armageddon' after study shows flying insect numbers plummeting 75%

Shaun had been writing, over many years, and been published in different genres, although he is not a professional writer outside his day job. He has previously been published in Poetry24 and continues to try this genre.

Wednesday, 25 October 2017

A Letter to Sgt. Bergdahl on the Matter of His Recent Confession

When I was in my late teens, around the age

you were when you enlisted and deployed,

I watched reruns of the 1965 TV drama Branded,

alongside my father, a WWII Vet.

Every week during the opening credits,

army cavalry captain Jason McCord, accused

of cowardice, is publicly humiliated, dishonorably

dismissed from the military, epaulets torn

from his uniform, saber broken.

A snare drum palpitates, the theme song swells,

… they said he ran away.


Turns out General James Reed, McCord’s superior,

took leave of his senses when confronted in battle.

Men died. In a last ditch effort, McCord takes action

meant to sway the commander but ends up

severely beaten, bloodied, nearly dead.

But hey, somebody had to take the fall

for the whole debacle, you feel me?

A few episodes in, a reporter gets wind of others

who had questioned the General’s mental state,

igniting debate over motivations of higher ups.

For the sake of really great journalism, I will add

the self-aggrandized politician who calls

for McCord’s execution from the stump.


My father would curse, yell at the television.

McCord’s barely more then a boy he’d say,

having been so himself when he returned

from the Philippines, a metal plate in his head,

admitting to have shit himself more then once.

He wore dark circles under his eyes

and plead guilty every single day.


© Kari Gunter-Seymour

Bowe Bergdahl, Called a ‘Traitor’ by President Trump, Pleads Guilty

Kari Gunter-Seymour is the mother of a Middle East Vet and twice a pushcart nominee. Her poems can be found in Rattle, Crab Orchard Review, Stirring and on her website.

Tuesday, 24 October 2017

Poetry to Die For

If I could choose my death

it’d be Pablo Neruda’s death.

Poisoned by two hitmen dressed

as medics because my poetry

upset the chief.


If I could choose my writing

it’d be Pablo Neruda’s writing.

Not just for the Nobel prize

or the best poem ever

about a cat


Not just for the passion,

the love, or the way he

inspired the working man,

but because he shamed a dictator

with his pen.


If I could pierce a junta’s defences using

words that live decades longer

than military rule, then

I’d be happy to write

a poem to die for.


© Charlie Lambert

Researchers raise doubts over cause of Chilean poet Neruda's death

Charlie Lambert is a former journalist and sports broadcaster who turned to a different form of media in 2016 when he started writing poetry. He is among a group of poets who have contributed to the anthology in support of human rights, 'Write to be Counted', published this month by the Book Mill. He lives in Liverpool.


Monday, 23 October 2017

Evening Feed

Straddling their warmth
with her fullness
she comes to them
in last light
silkily nosing
hard too-keen tugs
into a rhythm
sweet and slow as amber.

Touching the pines
the moon is a frozen pond
by the time
he leaves
the four by four
hessian sack in hand
Labrador at heel
gold leporine souls his harvest.

Pulling evening up round
their shoulders
she waits motionless
in a fold of dusk
his torchlight sweeping
the garnet dark
their small hearts
burning a hole in his pocket.

© Clare McCotter

Hares held captive in Edenderry coursing compound (Hare coursing is still legal in the Republic of Ireland - Ed)

Seven dogs and two vehicles seized as hare coursers are arrested

Clare McCotter has had poetry published in numerous journals including  Abridged, Algebra of Owls, Boyne Berries, Crannóg, Cyphers, Envoi, The Galway Review, The Honest Ulsterman, Iota, Moth Magazine, A New Ulster, Revival, The SHOp, The Stinging Fly and The Stony Thursday Book. She also writes haiku, tanka and haibun.

Sunday, 22 October 2017

The Beauty and the Beasts

If you go to the Ox Ranch
which is not a branch
of a zoo or a shooting range
but something in between
don’t commit a gaffe
and shoot a giraffe.
You cannot wreck
the life of a creature
with a very long neck
called Buttercup.
She can walk around
and graze off the trees
as if she was in Africa.
This may seem strange
because you can kill
a Bongo antelope
for 35,000 dollars
and also collar
many other exotics
for a cheaper bill.
It isn’t a stunt
but to be blunt
it is done for the thrill
of the hunt.

© Luigi Pagano

Blood and Beauty on a Texas Exotic-Game Ranch

Luigi Pagano has published three collections of poems: ‘Idle Thoughts’, ’Reflections’ and ‘Poetry On Tap’. His work has been featured in ABCTales’ magazines,UKAuthors’ anthologies, Poetry24 and several other publications.

Saturday, 21 October 2017

Celebrating Kate

(for kate Grant)


Kate Grant, County Tyrone
On the catwalk;
Belfast Fashion Week
You go girl;
Down's Syndrome
So what
Looking great.

Kate Grant up in lights
Live on line;
Thousands raise fists
Strut your stuff;
Down's Syndrome
Under your heels
Looking fab.

Kate Grant make us smile
Razzle dazzle,
Knock us out,
Super cool;
Down's Syndrome
Shoved aside
Looking hot.

© David Subacchi


David Subacchi lives in Wales (UK) where he was born of Italian roots. He studied at the University of Liverpool and has 4 published collections of his English Language poetry: First Cut (2012), Hiding in Shadows (2014), Not Really a Stranger (2016) and A Terrible Beauty (2016) as well as a collection in Welsh: Eglwys Yng Nghremona (2016).

Friday, 20 October 2017

Safety Off

The FBI and the CIA got ‘em
Good ‘ol boys in the KKK got ‘em
Even Doris Day got ‘em
But it don’t make ‘em safe

Kids in their daddies cars got ‘em
Rednecks in Dallas bars got ‘em
Sheriffs with tin stars got ‘em
But it don’t make ‘em safe

The white and black and brown got’ em
Old folks in mid-west town’s got ‘em
Even the Whitehouse clown got ‘em
But it don’t make ‘em safe

Clint Eastwood and John Wayne got ‘em
The holy and insane got ‘em
I’ve heard that Citizen Kane got ‘em
But it don’t make ‘em safe

Shopkeepers in their stores got ‘em
Vets returning from their wars got ‘em
Pimps and two bit whores got ‘em
But it don’t make ‘em safe

The Washington Post and Fox got ‘em
Randy high school jocks got ‘em
Snipers in tower blocks got ‘em
But it don’t make ‘em safe

Heroes on TV got ‘em
The brave and the free got ‘em
Babies on their mamas knees got ‘em
But it don’t make ‘em safe

The Waltons and the Brady’s got ‘em
The good guys and their ladies got ‘em
Tupac and Slim Shady’s got ‘em
But it don’t make ‘em safe

Every Independence day got ‘em
Every bullet that goes astray got ‘em
The whole of the USA got ‘em
And they’re never gonna be safe

© Ian Whiteley

Nearly 1,400 people were shot in the US during the week following the Las Vegas mass shooting

Ian Whiteley is a performance poet from Wigan. He has had 2 poetry collections published and has released 3 CD’s of poetry/music. He is also ¼ of the performance poetry group, Bard Company.

Thursday, 19 October 2017

one?

what remains of the day
has little concrete in
artifice
edifice
indolence

a storm by any other
woman’s name?

attached!

headlines
bedlines
middle of the road white lines

dreams?

picture book reality
a name-checked soap
a collection of peripheral words

thought?

gesticulated oxymorons
in deference to the thrones
with the most basic of facts?

perhaps!

betwixt origin and science
small worlds
collide
evolve
take root in an essence of self

lineage?

an affair de coeur
a state of defiance
ascending the ladder?

what remains of the day

© Shaun Parrin

Labour challenge Tories to rebel over Universal Credit rollout

Shaun had been writing, over many years, and been published in different genres, although he is not a professional writer outside his day job. He has previously been published in Poetry24 and continues to try this genre.

Wednesday, 18 October 2017

Harvey is a Sex Addict

Harvey Weinstein is an addict
Harvey, he just has to have it
Harvey's checked into a clinic
Not convinced? You heartless cynic
Harvey can not help himself
Please pray for Harvey's failing health

Poor Harvey, he is sex addicted
Please don't mock the sad afflicted
He's compelled to grope and woo
His penis tells him what to do
He has no choice, he must obey
He needs to sate his lust each day

So Harvey's at it like a rabbit
Finds it hard to kick his habit
He's a slave to his libido
Hands won't stay in his tuxedo
Doctor! It's pathology!
Why can't you show some sympathy?!

- But here's the thing that's overlooked
- It wasn't sex got Harvey hooked
- 'Cause sex is pleasure, sex is sensual
- Most of all, sex is consensual
- Harvey's targets cringe and cower
- Harvey gets his kicks from power

- Go and tell your editor:
- Harvey is a predator.

© Janine Booth

Harvey Weinstein’s “sex addiction”: Another way to blame women

Janine Booth lives in Hackney, East London. She writes and performs poetry, and has had three slim volumes of poetry published. Janine posts poems and political polemics at www.janinebooth.com

Tuesday, 17 October 2017

Power of Eves

Pull a scarlet shawl

around your shoulders


Know you are important

wear that cow mask


Dodge the grabbing hand

the pull on your blouse


your dupatta

your bag


Protest a curfew

police baton charge


Avoid Holi crowds

hit the men groping


your buttock

your breast


Name it sexual assault

Name male bullies


Protest putrid police

Unite as stalwart women


march together

shoulder to shoulder


© Lavinia Kumar

India’s female students say ‘to hell with it, we won’t stand for molesting and Eve-teasing’

Lavinia Kumar has a new poetry book, The Celtic Fisherman’s Wife: A Druid Life, it can be found on Amazon (US & UK).

Monday, 16 October 2017

The Awesome Wind, Northern California, 2017

Our world’s on fire. The wind blusters across
the countryside, taunting us to fear its awesome
power, sparks the ember, turns everything to char.
Fire lives inside the tree, hollows out the core.
A squirrel clings to a branch. We watch as fire
inhales, then spits out fur and bone. No relief
until the wind calms and fire sates its hunger.
The sky is not a sky we’ve ever known. Ash rains
down spectral and acrid. We can hardly breathe.

© Nancy Scott

Some evacuation orders lifted in Northern California fires; death toll at 40

Nancy Scott is author of nine books of poetry. Many of her poems deal with social justice issues.
She resides in New Jersey, USA.

Sunday, 15 October 2017

Fox in Stocks

Look, sir! Look, sir! Britain mocks, sir.
Let's play tricks with Dr Fox, sir.
Ticks and tocks from Brexit clocks:
British tradesmen shake in socks.
Brexit tricks and Brexit shticks:
Fox gets kicks and gets on wicks.
Brits in shocks and Fox in stocks:
Fox locked up where no-one knocks.
Britain mocks at Dr Fox:
Fox with nix and in his box.

© Philip Challinor

Liam Fox ridiculed for being only member of new UK board of trade

Philip Challinor posts fiction, satire and assorted grumbles on his blog: The Curmudgeon. His longer fiction is available here.

Saturday, 14 October 2017

Off Your Knees

Keep politics out of sport
Black lives may matter
but all that matters here
is the score

Keep politics out of football
because standing up for the national anthem
is not political
but kneeling for it is

Keep politics off the pitch
Offence and defence
are matters for the field of play
not for the field of struggle

Keep politics out of sport
Do your duty, entertain
don't complain
Forget those folk who can't be at the game

Play for us, throw for us
put on a show for us
Tackle them hard for us
run forty yards for us
Deliver our sport for us
don't ask for support from us

Keep politics out of sport
Keep your protests out of our faces
Know your places
Touch down your ball, run down your races

Stuff justice, think of your career
We just want a score to cheer

Get off your knees
and stand up

© Janine Booth

President Trump tells Fox News: NFL should have suspended Colin Kaepernick

Janine Booth is a Marxist motormouth, who grinds out poems serious and humorous, for the page and the stage. She has had three slim volumes of poetry published, and posts poems and political polemics at http://www.janinebooth.com/

Friday, 13 October 2017

The British Dream

Do you dream British?


Do you wake up thinking Jerusalem and jam

Wipe your plates with royal faced tea towels?

And take the bright red bus to a dull, dull office?


#TheBritishDream: when u think 'it is a coat day' so u wear a coat and it turns out it was indeed a coat day and u are a good temperature


Do you start your day with a pinky-fingered Earl Grey or a

builder’s brew stirred with a splash of fake cockney

and just a small spoon of casual xenophobia?


#TheBritishDream: slightly better weather on bank holidays


Do dreams have a nationality?

Does Uncle Sam prod pillows and

whisper sweet everythings about all those amendments?


#TheBritishDream: getting through a self-checkout without ‘unexpected item’ in the bagging area


Does the right to bear arms

comfort and cuddle our cousins as they

zee zee zee til morning?


#TheBritishDeam: a channel that plays Del-boy falling through the bar 24 hours a day


Do they bounce outta bed, with their cuppa Jo

And go off in their Cadillac in the pursuit of

life, liberty and happiness?



#TheBritishDream: finding a Kit Kat with no wafer in it

#TheBritishDream: sausages and mash Desperate-Dan style

#TheBritishDream: a nice cup of tea and a sit down

#TheBritishDream: changing queues and finding the one you have moved to, does, in fact, move faster

#TheBritishDream: doing an entire speech without interruption, without pranksters, without heckling, without coughing, without letters droppin

of

© Jane Slavin

Theresa May offers the ‘British dream’ but speech turns into a nightmare

Jane Slavin is a former journalist, now council press officer, living in Plymouth. In her spare time, she is falling in love with words again by making her own stuff up!

Thursday, 12 October 2017

When will this Madness end?

Yet again we turn on the TV
And witness horrible scenes
Of unparalleled violence, hatred, and despair

An old man consumed by his own demons
Opens fire from a hotel room
Killing 58 people injuring hundreds
In Las Vegas, Sin City

And the cry goes out throughout the land
Why yet again this tragedy?

The usual suspects are rounded up
It's the culture, stupid, cry the conservative voices

Guns are the price of our freedom
Guns Don’t Kill People
The only solution is more guns for everyone

The only solution for a bad guy with a gun
Is a good guy with a gun
An armed society is a polite society

No, it's the guns, cry the liberal pundits
We must confiscate the guns
Ban Assault weapons
And join the rest of the world
Where such carnage does not occur

And we sit around and argue
Knowing that there will be a next time
And another time and time and time again
Until the end of time

What is the sickness in our souls
That allows for this hatred to fester so
Deep within the minds of our killers

Nothing will change
Until we confront the evil
That lurks deep within each of us

There will be another Las Vegas
Soon enough

© Jake Aller

Families across 14 states unite in grief after Las Vegas shooting

John (“Jake”) Cosmos Aller is a novelist, poet and former Foreign Service officer. He served 27 years with the U.S. State Department, in ten countries. An aspiring novelist for several years, he has completed four novels, and has published his poetry and fiction in over 25 literary journals. Jake grew up in Berkeley, California.

Wednesday, 11 October 2017

Get a Grip

It's World Mental Health Day, so

SNAP OUT OF IT
Snap out of taking orders
Snap out of blame
Snap out of 'disorders'
Snap out of shame
Snap out of austerity
Snap out of stressors
Snap out of poverty
Snap out of pressures
Snap out of 'raising awareness'
and start raising hell
This system's sick
It isn't well

GET A FUCKING GRIP
Clench your fists and bite your lip
Get a grip on broken minds and
Ask yourself what is breaking them
Get a grip on that banner pole
On that placard stick
Stop the traffic
Shout and kick
Take my tip
Get a grip

CALM DOWN
and chill out
Never spit your pill out
Chin up, man up
Pull everything you can up
Raise your hand up
Make your point and stand up

FFS, PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER
Pull our allies together
Pull our demands together
Pull our hands and arms together
Pull together all our resources
Our battling and campaigning forces
Pull ourselves together
Solidarity forever

© Janine Booth


Janine Booth lives in Hackney, East London. She writes and performs poetry, and has had three slim volumes of poetry published. Janine posts poems and political polemics at www.janinebooth.com


Tuesday, 10 October 2017

In the Plot Next to Marilyn

Luminous and always more
than a little sad
her star was rising when his hands fell
on photographs
taken in a stone broke past.
Spread centrefold
no consent sought or given
his ship came home,
in a single night
fifty thousand copies sold.
Now the sallow skin
lighthouse gaze
post box grin
materialise again
wet parted nonagenarian lips
whispering eternity
beside my blonde of blondes, too sweet
an opportunity to miss.

Does this woman have no kin, blood
feminist, humanitarian
shouting down the dead of night
you harda hearin
the chair’s taken.
No one to spirit her to some quiet
unnamed wooded place
and sweeping away
earth stars and leaf litter
lay her down in the diamond dark
among roots of juniper among roots of cedar.

© Clare McCotter

Hugh Hefner arranged to be buried next to Marilyn Monroe and a lot of people think that’s creepy

Clare McCotter’s poetry has appeared in numerous journals including Abridged, Algebra of Owls, Boyne Berries, Crannóg, Cyphers, Envoi, The Galway Review, The Honest Ulsterman, Iota, Moth Magazine, A New Ulster, Revival, The SHOp, The Stinging Fly and The Stony Thursday Book. She also writes haiku, tanka and haibun.

Monday, 9 October 2017

Athenia

The day war began in 1939
A German torpedo sent you
Mortally wounded
To the bottom of the ocean;
A civilian ship, women and children,
Americans, British and others,
Rules broken, no mercy given.

Then the Nazis tried to suggest
That Churchill was responsible,
An evil ploy to draw
America into the war,
But nobody believed them;
The propaganda
Of Goebbels failed.

Today we think we've found you
Two hundred metres down,
We have the equipment now;
Soon an unmanned craft
Will be sent to make sure
It really is you and
Not just another fantasy.

© David Subacchi

Athenia: Is this the wreck of the first British ship torpedoed in WW2?

David Subacchi lives in Wales (UK) where he was born of Italian roots. He studied at the University of Liverpool and has 4 published collections of his English Language poetry: First Cut (2012), Hiding in Shadows (2014), Not Really a Stranger (2016) and A Terrible Beauty (2016) as well as a collection in Welsh: Eglwys Yng Nghremona (2016).

Sunday, 8 October 2017

The Naked Truth

That the Mona Lisa’s smile
hid a secret, we knew all along
and now a recent discovery
has proved that we weren’t wrong.

A sketch has been found
with her face full of mirth
and her body reflecting
the nakedness of birth.

She is amused by the thought
she had posed in the nude
as she wanted to show
that she wasn’t a prude.

But the Art of Leonardo
she also knew was imbued
with a sense of propriety
and not meant to be rude.

So she told the master
that in all honesty
she‘d rather be covered
and recover her modesty.

© Luigi Pagano

'Mona Lisa nude sketch' found in France

Luigi Pagano has published three collections of poems: ‘Idle Thoughts’, ’Reflections’ and ‘Poetry On Tap’. His work has been featured in ABCTales’ magazines,UKAuthors’ anthologies, Poetry24 and several other publications.

Saturday, 7 October 2017

Donald Trump, Our Great Compassionate Dear Leader

As an elderly man falls
In front of him
During a charity dinner event
Hitting his head bleeding out

Quote the MAGA Donald Trump our future dear leader

“It is disgusting. I mean the guy was bleeding
all over the nice marble floor”

Donald Trump the self-proclaimed
saviour of the nation
Could not be bothered to lift a finger

“Thank God for the marines who took out the garbage
But they left a mess on the nice marble floor
And ruined their nice uniforms”
and disrupted a fine dinner

Did he call the grieving family the next day
Of course not
Quote the Great Leader, the Donald
“I forgot to call." That is not his thing at all

And still, I wonder
How such a disgusting excuse
For a human being became
The leader of the greatest nation
On earth

And what it means for the future
Is it proof that we are doomed
That America is in the final stage
Of terminal decline?

Or will Americans take
out the garbage
From the white house?

© Jake Aller

The Time Donald Trump Turned Away in Disgust While a Man Was Bleeding to Death in Front of Him

John (“Jake”) Cosmos Aller is a novelist, poet and former Foreign Service officer. He served 27 years with the U.S. State Department, in ten countries. An aspiring novelist for several years, he has completed four novels, and has published his poetry and fiction in over 25 literary journals. Jake grew up in Berkeley, California.

Friday, 6 October 2017

A Dead Sirte

Once we've cleared the bodies
Once we've dug the graves
And found a space where
Graves aren't already dug
Which won't be easy

Once we've done the digging
Which won't be easy
When the earth's like concrete
And the sun's like glass
And it's mass graves we're digging

Once we've steeled ourselves to the
Mosaic mess of mutilation and said a prayer
Which won't be easy
For we don't know who the bodies
And the body parts belonged to

Once we've finished with the shovels
We can hand over to Boris's
Bright British guys who can't wait
To build a steel glass and concrete
City with mosaics and open space

And water fountains and terrazzas,
Beaches with better sand than ours
Maybe a Formula One race one day
And of course a tasteful memorial
To all the bodies who were people once.

© Charlie Lambert

No 10 rebukes Boris Johnson over Sirte 'dead bodies' comment

Charlie Lambert is a former journalist and sports broadcaster who turned to a different form of media in 2016 when he started writing poetry. He lives in Liverpool.

Thursday, 5 October 2017

LIGO/Virgo

Follow the two eyes of the orange mask,

the wobble, near wink, warp,

deep sockets ready to suck up time,

collide as inner eye, mind's eye

to see beyond sight,

for enlightenment,

a hole so black

even seers feel ripples, waves

to a gravity beyond day or tide,

pulling, rippling, stretching, shrinking –

an energy of two united as one spirit

spinning far from time

the mask falling away to no trick,

but treat, dark as black cherry.

© Lavinia Kumar

New gravitational wave detection shows shape of ripples from black hole collision

Lavinia Kumar has a new poetry book, The Celtic Fisherman’s Wife: A Druid Life, it can be found on Amazon (US & UK).

Wednesday, 4 October 2017

Las Vegas

Gun Controlled


“Gun control ?”

“I controlled it.”

Bought the legal rounds

Bought the bullets screaming loud

The voice of NRA screaming

“That’s what makes America proud”


“Gun controlled

I used it.”

The second amendment

The senators on the hill

The guy who shot to miss and killed

The domestic settled on a hand gun

A boy caught between the cross fire


And now the highest figure

Written in the clouds

Burning at hell’s door

Take away these fire arms

No more.


The Guns Controlled

YOU controlled it

© David Mellor

Las Vegas shooting: Trump dubs killer 'sick and demented'

David Mellor is from Liverpool, England. He found understanding and belief through words, and his work has been aired widely, at the BBC, The Tate, galleries and pubs and everything in between. Discover more about David on his Facebook Page YouTube Twitter: @olunikat


Aftermath  (Sonnet)

Heard shooter, down, and blood, then candle, spree.
Today’s compelling sweetness makes it worse;
Our seeming lean to darkness baffles me:
These acts horrific, repetition's hearse!

Let's sheathe our swords, and listen to small birds;
Note vultures sulking, high on gnarled trees.
Their beaks are how they eat, and never words
That poke and prod like bullets - Pray release!

The challenge now is writing how I feel
While dragging every word with rusted chains
That snarl, beg, delay, repeat – I yield:
Just give us nests with birds, a cleansing rain.

The writer wants to slumber with a dove,
to feel soft wings, no words, consider love.

© Kay Weeks

Nothing Will Change After the Las Vegas Shooting

Kay Weeks worked for 30 years for the US National Parks Service in the area of National Historic Preservation, retiring in 2005. She writes and publishes poetry in the US and the UK.

Tuesday, 3 October 2017

Spanish Lesson

Guardia Civil
know the drill
Drafted in from other places
beating unfamiliar faces

Keepers of the peace
Police

That's the theory:
There and here, we
expect protection
get subjection

Saw that theory
cracked in practice
Dragged and kicked
grabbed and nicked

Keepers of the peace
Police

That facade's
been shattered
Charged and battered
punched and batoned

Washed away in voters' blood
Nipped in Catalunya's bud
Hammered homeward in detention
Spread the word, pay attention

Homework session
Spanish lesson

© Janine Booth

Spain in crisis after police violence in Catalan vote

Janine Booth lives in Hackney, East London, and writes and performs poetry. She has had three slim volumes of poetry published, and posts poems and political polemics at www.janinebooth.com

Monday, 2 October 2017

Hef Listens to Dylan's Blood on the Tracks on his new iPhone and Dies

A gentle little puff blows bubbles all around
my father's lap. I'm tangled up with arms and chest.

Her gentle little puffs whisper in my ear
the unexpected twist in our relationship.

The gentle little puff of my confusion when
she pulls my shorts for morning sex and then we laugh
at clumsy breaths before she puffs those three words
"I appreciate you." I admire lily white
skin and exposure to her two big beautiful
fully attached frontal lobes.

                                   Say hello and that's my children's cue
to wrap around my neck and puff and puff cloud puffs
of requests. I frantically fill buckets with coal size
ideas.

            All these gentle little puffs I never felt.

Gentle little puffs fill this room-of-nothing.

© J.M. Green

Hugh Hefner, Who Built the Playboy Empire and Embodied It, Dies at 91

J.M. Green is the author of two chapbooks, The Novice Angler (Finishing Line Press, 2017) and Super Rich (Pudding House, 2008). Green is a librarian at Xavier University in Cincinnati, Ohio.

Sunday, 1 October 2017

Tricks of the Trade

Whatever Roger says
is written in stone.
Proclaims that his tricks
are within reason
and he wouldn’t dream
of committing treason.
He caustically denies
that he was involved
in meddling and lies.
If asked by the House
about Russian collusion
he’ll be truly upset
by unfounded allusions
and he’ll answer: Niet

© Luigi Pagano

Roger Stone to Tell House Panel He Pulled No Treasonous ‘Trick’

Luigi Pagano has published three collections of poems: ‘Idle Thoughts’, ’Reflections’ and ‘Poetry On Tap’. His work has been featured in ABCTales’ magazines,UKAuthors’ anthologies, Poetry24 and several other publications.