Tag: poetry

  • Close to the Edge

    Close to the Edge

    By Mary Pomfret   When I was seven and sweet I lived on the west coast, rugged and dark Rainforest, devils, possum ringtail, hanging from the pines.   Benign neglect, disguised as love, was commonplace back then. Mother would have been knitting booties for the next baby, Father tinkering in the shed.   So, I…

  • Over-dreaming

    Over-dreaming

    By Jane Frank   Poems fall into my inbox from people I’ve never met   home-baked cookies cool, the dog, ecstatic we’re home   rolling in fallen lilly pilly flowers beneath a vibrant fickle sun   the silver underside of gazania foliage sparkling with a new   energy – It’s a blessing that your father…

  • My husband’s grandfather, the jeweller

    My husband’s grandfather, the jeweller

    By Denise O’Hagan   So we may find ourselves Taking on other people’s memories Slipping on the mantle of their lives Until they become part of us And walk where we walk, Second-hand shadows, Like the memory of my husband’s memory, when we went back, of that fastidious courteous man who dealt in heirlooms and timepieces…

  • Who am I?

    Who am I?

    By Wendy Dunn My mother told me, ‘You’ll be a wife and mother Just like me Good girls don’t sleep with men But wait for the ring

  • Bully me

    Bully me

    By Sarah Giles Why do you think I am so different from you? My pain and my failings are no different to you. Why do you think I don’t feel what you do? The rejection and depression it haunts me too.

  • Noha*

    Noha*

    By Kainat Azhar Knife in my hand, I fight with the ravens. They visit me when I am alone, I loathe them for interrupting my mental painting of yours.   My ribs have been tied by a chain made of gold. I sing to insomnia and call it sleep.

  • Quiet.

    Quiet.

    By Oscar O’Neill-Pugh The rays shrink. The sun creeps back. Quiet. The night, it clings to us all. Its long digits holding still our ears, It’s icy breath caressing our skin. Whatever you do, Don’t resist. Whatever you do, Don’t interrupt it. Don’t light it up. Never startle it.

  • To your arms

    To your arms

    By Oscar O’Neill-Pugh I can’t bring myself to believe, In a particular God. It shakes me to my very core, To know that I won’t.   How I wish I had the faith, To abide by fanatic dogma. How I wish I had the strength, To discover my truth.

  • Rêves à partir de son lit de mort

    Rêves à partir de son lit de mort

    By Oscar O’Neill-Pugh Turn off the machine, despite my fragility. Turn me off and allow me, grant me my sleep. I ask of you, why put off the inevitable? Let me write, despite my hand being illegible.

  • Death by Linen

    Death by Linen

    By Oscar O’Neill-Pugh Even now the pillow case Shoves its way, into my face. Through my undertow And overhead, I gasp for air In my bed.   But even now And even there Sins of the flesh, They don’t repair. So say farewell, My lungs get hot! Love is blind. Desire is not.   Image…

  • Borderline

    Borderline

    By Oscar O’Neill-Pugh By the time I reverted back, Back to the bastard of Babylon, For far too long had I been kept From Phineus’ feast. Claws clawing, Harpies, harridans and harlots harping, Just a real fuckin’ mess. My barmy tongue crying out, Screaming and moaning in dry agony “Let me creep back to mah…