Monthly Archives: August 2015
Raymond Miller
I Live Over There Past houses where spouses are spitting at children and satellite dishes are marks of distinction; where villainous vermin shadow-box curtains and takeaway cartons bespatter the gardens; where nobody bothers to pick up the dog shit while … Continue reading
David Subacchi
STRATA FLORIDA Teifi water flowed Through the valley Only two miles From its source So monks struggled To protect their land Against flooding Soft hands bruised By hard labour Diverting Afon Glasffrwd To reduce danger These same hands Steadily created … Continue reading
Jack Houston
Lineation In the spangled glare of the spotlit pitch through swonking winds and turbot rains hid under depths of deep-fall snow or the blister-parch of summered days and bent under the gut-rip roar of thirty thousand furied souls with the … Continue reading
Harrison Abbott
Progeny When you’d dealt your painting your word Had nothing to the scope of the victory, And the grace you had was left, buoyant and Sad by the rush of the same ocean wrong-sided To your old and real Home, … Continue reading
Edwin Stockdale
Wessex Fog (for Thomas Hardy) He lingers in Yalbury Wood, breath choking like tear-gas. A thrush cries in a thicket. Beech branches flail, barbed wire against desiccated sky. He lingers in Yalbury Wood. Snow falls: grey, tainted with ash. A … Continue reading
Tom Foy
Dundee Rap: Tak tent gaither roon’ Jock Broon kneel doon pray fer King or yer deid pistol shot in yer heid wife an bairns maun jalooze Bluidy Clavers in da hoose. In 1685 Graham of Claverhouse captured a Covenanter named … Continue reading
J M Brown
Ode To A Nightingaol Brain now dulled with throbbing pain laid low with drugs and liquor I had found. Stomach emptied in a putrid drain till Police arrive and Leith-wards I am bound. O for a pitcher full of ale … Continue reading
Robert Nisbet
Season In her back yard, their yard, there were a coal bunker, a stack of kindling, a bird table, two apple trees, bramble downgarden and a stretch of local grass. He spent four springs there while the hedges sopped through … Continue reading
The Open Mouse 