Monthly Archives: August 2013
Robert Klein Engler
CATULLUS, CARMINA #5 TUNED TO A SONNET. Oh, let us live dear Lesbia, and love. The rumors spread by stale old men will run about like frightened mice pursued by Jove. Our love so bright will hide before the sun. … Continue reading
Jax Leck
Nightdreams Dreams are the bolthole where I close out the world and become my alter ego. The Writer of Wrongs The chaos of reality dims as solutions are found to the insurmountable hurdles of daily life Empowerment surges within me … Continue reading
Nikki Magennis
Living In The Lion’s Belly Underfoot the purrs rattle his ribcage. Not a hum of pleasure, but a warning held in the deep cave of his chest. I stroke his syrupy heart, hold still, and sing lullabies. From here, I … Continue reading
Peter Richards
Go by Train I’m walking on a road to the station the railway the railway station I have to walk around a lot of people who are working on a hole in the road. A train comes rolling in the … Continue reading
Bethany W Pope
See Spot Run Just a quick metal prick and the ending began. A swift sluice of death lunged toward your heart, propelled by the beat beat beat of blood through veins that seemed implacable until it stopped. Your Dalmatian pelt … Continue reading
Lyn Moir
All in the Cards Calling it Napoleon, my father played Miss Milligan, repeating, as he laid the cards, some story that his dad had told to him. That’s how it works: a small addiction born in firelight with the lashing … Continue reading
Kriss Nichol
The Story of my Birthplace (inspired by The Story of my Country by Asadullah Habib) The story of my birthplace is written on its mines and shipyards – abandoned, rusting, derelict. A story of vibrancy, heroism and betrayal, played out … Continue reading
Bridget Khursheed
Thoughts on an oatcake taken from a Highland soldier’s purse after Culloden and displayed a piece, a biscuit crumbled, crumbled and eaten on a battle morning in a glass case and a ball beside it the ball a bullet clean … Continue reading
Hamish Scott
Beastie A beastie lans upon ma haun: ‘Guid day ma fere, whit gars us meet? Is thare sum ettle tae this warld or is bi chance wir anely feat?’ I muckle seilence gangs the flee It leas ma haun for … Continue reading
Terrence L Sykes
Arc of Ark There isn’t much left of Noah’s Ark these days a piece or two drift slowly by on a cool evening This dilapidated pier perhaps was cobbled haphazardly from the others that passed in the years before Then … Continue reading
The Open Mouse 