Monthly Archives: June 2013
Mary Dawson
SUNDAY WORSHIP A dreich season, guid fur growth. We bevvy camomile tea an dandelion bucky. At th’ harvest festival fear mixes wi’ laughter. Oor twa worlds combine An’ aw th’ colours fade tae black an’ white. The space atween us … Continue reading
Max Scratchmann
Two-Wheeler Bicycle He missed my birthday, but when he came home on leave He unbolted the stabilisers from my new red bike And took me down to the playing field, Holding me up with a steady hand. You’ll never make … Continue reading
Maureen Weldon
A BIRTHDAY PRESENT FOR DAD Dad did not like cats until he met Blackie. She was born in Scotland, one of a litter of five; in our bed-sit. We found good homes for four of them. But Blackie? I had … Continue reading
Maurice Devitt
Black Soutane The silent smell in an empty wardrobe, the folds of sweat. The point just behind your eyes that you will never see – your secret becomes ours; how a blackboard licked with the taste of chalk, can ever … Continue reading
Jules Faulkner
The Crow Road Your murderous factory made me think. Fossilised pear and a twisted link. Coma bridge and book stacked walls. Walking on glass until one falls. One way trip baby, watch your life unfold. No U turns baby, you’re … Continue reading
Renga – Perfect Pitch
Perfect Pitch new grasses on the slope silvered by the sun wave in the breeze bright sun and insistent blow an East Coast May morning out on the Bass gannet, guillemot, razorbill – it’s one big guano-ed tenement stair new … Continue reading
Nicola Burkhill
Honeymoon in Govan My Granny honeymooned in a single-end in Govan. She recalls this like yesterday, Blue eyes twinkling, Wet with remembrance. A husband she has mourned longer than lived. She wore a knee length dress, Silk fabric, of tiny … Continue reading
Jim Bennett
the bike ride in the autumn as we cycle out into the hills the trees are a cliché of fire with gold to brown leaves we pedal through the hot ash that fills the lane at the top of the … Continue reading
Phil Wood
Missing the 7.30 Dark and dank in the subway, where a pale youth plays his stairway song. The sound is a taproot sucking her dry: a memory sighs, flickers, a star expiring to shadow. She stands alone in … Continue reading
Andrew Hunter
prey I hear a kestrel sometimes high above the street its harsh cry insistent victims are easy here easy meat when I search I see the crushing sky fallen to my feet Copyright © Andrew Hunter 2013 “I’ve been writing … Continue reading
The Open Mouse 