Monday, October 16, 2017

Hold ~ Anna Frances Conway

You congratulate yourself 

The invincible kicks in

The sting kicks in 

Bell jar rumbles 

You hear that fist muscle

You wonder if you can stay

Nothing is on fire

Your insides are on fire

You forget what fire is

You consider it, teeth monster in your head —

breathe in.

Monday, June 26, 2017

Gone over ~ Tim Youngs

That bare patch
where you stood
playing catch

is still there
brought to mind
by the knock

on our door.
A child for
his ball back.

Soirée ~ Tim Youngs

The plastic coaster:

its pattern obscured

by cigarette burns

and Mother’s anger

Drift ~ Tim Youngs

red spots
on Dad’s white Cortina

in our Bedfordshire driveway

blown from the Sahara

with home counties rain

Tim Youngs’ poems have appeared in several print and online magazines, including The Interpreter’s House, The Journal, Lighthouse, London Grip, Poetry Salzburg Review and Staple

Sunday, June 11, 2017

Minds Under Arrest ~ Paul Waring

they chart choreography
and mechanism of moves             
then thunder down doors
at the dark side of dawn
with barking mouths and feet

it's in their dna
to remove fibres of yours
distilling essence for clues
from every nook and cranny

scour your sink for germs
from scrubbed hard drives
of mind   words and images
lurking deep behind eyes

strip search sheets for signs
of wrong dreams  examine
soiled linen of thought take
some away for questioning

On Nights ~ Paul Waring

Darkness draws curtains
in bible black ink. Bat clouds
suffocate corners of sky

as another canvas dies
moon magnets drag corneas
of shuttered eyes towards sleep

where memory knits
rows of experience
that scarf into morning.

Memory Thief ~ Paul Waring

the past slips in and out from
cubby-holes of consciousness
keeping the known
from the knowing
dropping clues
onto tips of tongues
agonisingly close to recall        
details shredded by thieving
magpies of memory, now
abandoned like party guests
waiting to be introduced.

Paul Waring, a retired clinical psychologist lives in Wirral, UK. He once designed menswear and, in the 1980's, was a singer/songwriter in several Liverpool bands. His work has been published in Reach Poetry and will feature in forthcoming issues of Eunoia Review, Amaryllis and Northampton Poetry.

Tuesday, June 6, 2017

Poem ~ Buket Ozgel

I have an imaginary dog.
He is only around in the presence of dark souls.
The moment I hear the woof woof sound,
I produce a bell from my pocket and show that
it is not good to condition oneself
to sheer animosity beforehand.

Save that I do not ring the bell.

 Buket is Turkish who is now writing in English.

None ~ Buket Ozgel

That is your mouth
That is your chin
Your pretty chin
Your kissable chin

Those are your eyes
Diffidently looking around
Then staring into my heart
And those currently blind


Wednesday, April 26, 2017

3 Sonnets ~ Akaky Akakievich

A Sonnet to the Siren Aurora
High Heeled Sandals, Small fangs, large mouth

Especially total from the harping on control which thrusts out over the grain
And still will flatten the mighty not yet set to fill out over the musty plight
Was a chance to gather up the taunting from her not covetous prompt eke
Of the chilling but perpendicular sapping can be to truly hide the recent sane
Of whomever is a trill of the perpetual stalked along the roadways is tight
That blinking has elevated the toast of the more so her shoes were not weak

From the same mountainous ravished by the storm of the fluent pushed past
The resident must prevail over the alterations have seemed to resist the womb
Which centers on the wasting of the mere perilous how it can be the salty
Of each of the rather mere figurines are a proud until there is no more fast
Of the larger side of her mouth must be prepared to envelope the eager tomb
That hastens a filled with the rapid ease is not the reach to distill the bulky 

A Sonnet to the Siren Bella
Somewhat pregnant, black boots, black leggings 

Seems to have forgotten much of what she remembered to be the start
This captivating the grievance from about how you could tell each flippant
Towering caught between the stomachs of heartaching and just to realize
The scintillating has pushed past the tunnels of what can heap on a dart
To the frequent exercised and moments were most forgiven with a distant
Calming allegiance was there to attain the leggy smarter for her to idealize

Here around the flocked to contain only the hapless victims were a solid
Enough relentless and poured onto the framework was still to meager over
The eating away at the bulbous filled to assume the milky presence knows all
That seems to bite into the hardly made for her size was the leftover and pallid
To continue the running about was not a faster race to heed the flow moreover
Can restrict the actual pagan testing is present to find most of the shattered fall 

A Sonnet to the Siren Bethany 
Excessively tall, headbands, extreme jealousy 

Positively elated by the mere chance of the beholden to a stretch must
Make the lasting endurance pale with the gleaming headway made choice
To flounder about the streak of the mildest forms of revolting kind of spots
Have dreaded her extreme height with the lure of a castle and not a thrust
What else can have to remain with the revolved and so petty it can be a voice
Which matters most to the heeded and starlit convention knows not the blots

Whatever can handle the dignity of another to surround the really meek
Is the cheeky foremost proud enough to conduct like the hibernated of what
Has entailed the frosted over emotive stance takes not a verily stood to ease
The reign of who was the headbanded and proud with the masterly so sleek
It can prevail with the windiest of the sorrowful here it can blame the shut
Of what is up to stand over her sleekest memories have proudly made the tease 

Akaky resides in Pittsburgh, PA.  He writes only Sonnets. His current cycle, of which these are a part of, is a cycle about Sirens. He has  also written cycles of Sonnets about Witches and Goddesses. A number of the Witch and Goddess sonnets have been published during  the last year in various publications.Akaky enjoys fast cars and listening to Mozart and Bruckner. He also enjoys 19th century Russian and French literature.