Monthly Archives: September 2017
Anna Frances Conway
Underground My feet stick to the ground and I stare, long enough to recognise him below the Kings Cross arches — dark brown dips below the skyline I can’t remember his name. I close my eyes as tightly as I … Continue reading
Terrence L Sykes
Devonshire dusk settles into my side garden amongst flora & fauna wasp who has been about his nothingness all day lingers on occasion dawn found us introduced us both while I sipped tea & nibbled some sugar laden scone mist … Continue reading
J M Brown
In the field of opportunity (It’s tattie time again,} The pickers scrambled from the bus, gasping in the crisp October air. Children ran across the furrowed fields, kicking up dust and startled pheasants. The older women built small fires, soon … Continue reading
Andrew Hunter
Sunday mornings, in gardens 1. EM Forster would have worried that these are days for getting smuts in your eye. Or, more likely, losing dahlias in bloom to the gusting wind. It is terrible, this havoc among the flowers, and, … Continue reading
John D Robinson: Two poems
BORING After struggling for a couple of minutes to fasten my 4 year old granddaughter’s sandals, she says to me, ‘Come one Grandpa, this is boring’ and she was right, knowing already how precious time is, not something to be … Continue reading
Ben Banyard: Two poems
Branded You can sip from this waxy cup anywhere, impulse buy millionaire’s shortbread in this beige chain’s parallel universes. We should know not to come here, that this is not distinct enough for our northern burrs and estuary vowels. We aren’t … Continue reading
The Open Mouse 