By its very nature every poem is a fantasy – a flight of fancy. That’s because every time a poet puts pen to paper he or she creates a work of art which comes from his or her fertile imagination.

This, of course, means that people who write poetry need to possess that wonderful gift – the skill to create something which is truly fantastic – just by using their thought processes.

Within the pages of this anthology you will find that a large number of individual poets have created their own personal fantasy.

Each one is surprisingly and wonderfully different. Each one is an open door into a realm of dreams - an expression of something deeply personal – their own Poetic Fantasy.

I hope that you, the reader, can enjoy the fantasies, identify with them, understand them, empathise with them. Above all we hope you delight in the sheer wonder that is the human imagination – that amazing gift of nature which gives birth to poetry.

Lynda Brennan, Editor

FOUR FAT FEMALE PHEASANTS

Four fat female pheasants were out in a field,
On a cold and windy day,
One said to the others, I really must yield,
For my feathers keep blowing away.
The eldest stood firm in the teeth of the gale,
And said, Well I never will wilt,
I’ve a cousin who stands in the Cairngorms all day,
In a blizzard, not wearing a kilt.

Alan Hayden

THOMAS

Nine years in the Army,
Blanks spite and shine,
Four minutes to get in line,
Small pack, knapsack, kitbag rifle,
Sergeant shouting at merest trifle,
Pick up that bloody rifle.
Wading through paddy fields,
Sleeping in holes,
Passing bloody bodies of departed souls,
Crawling out for stand to in freezing mist,
Why the hell did I ever enlist?
But the camaraderie was something,
Not to be missed.

Bee K Watson

THE UNSPOKEN WORD

This scourge of the twenty first century,
This C of hostility,
That invades our bodies without discrimination,
No consideration for our feelings or others,
An enemy of the immune system,
That we can be forgiven our inhospitality,
That we have a right to fight against,
And not be beaten.
Action is the key,
Positivity the force within us,
Medical science advancing daily,
Confrontation the only way,
A network of support to help us,
Cancer need no longer be the unspoken word.

Keith Howard

REJOICE

Let us rejoice in the wakening,
Of nature all around,
Leaves and flowers bursting forth,
From the cold and barren ground.
Let us rejoice in the beauty,
The freshness, the hope, and the joy,
Let us rejoice for it’s Easter,
With a message the world cannot destroy.
New life and faith it brings to all,
That’s the promise Easter imparts,
Reminding of hope for the future,
A message that lifts up the heart.
Death and hell were defeated,
On that first Easter morn,
Bondage was turned to freedom,
The fetters from Satan were torn.
Now Heaven’s gates are open,
To all who take Jesus as King,
Rejoice and be glad for it’s Easter,
Let our praise to Heaven ring.

Florence L Brain

ENGLAND

England’s countryside,
Peaceful and green,
An English rose,
Best ever seen.
England’s meadows,
Taste of spring,
English Sundays,
Church bells will ring.
England’s mountains,
Rivers and lakes,
The English oak,
Let’s never forsake.

Douglas Hoyle

IN REPOSE

There are no words to bear the weight of the scene that lies before me.
The mountains span the cloudless sky, defying all description.
Summer sounds, the fragrant air, nature spreads her earthly store,
The redbrick of the churches walls is warm, alive, is breathing.
The mottles stones invite our gaze, the lives relived as we trace names
We celebrate man's noble deeds and disregard all else.
We sometimes crave eternal rest, resurrection sounds exhausting
The tantalising question posed, is there more to life than this?
If you’re not aware, you’re still informed, granite stones reposing
Are you watching us with pity? Fear? The silence sounds like thunder.

Janet Huck

THE MEANING OF TRUE BLISS

This evening’s sun setting slowly across the beach,
Our kids running around in the pink water’s edge.
You, my partner, my friend, my lover, hand over a peach,
For you my undying love I do pledge.
Memories of the woodland walks that we have done,
Picnics on the moors, days out with the dogs.
Countless hours of endless fun,
The bonfires roasting marshmallows sat on a log.
To you I owe so much, you really are the best,
Before we got together is one big fog.
Snuggled on the sofa at night, both glad of the rest.
For you I want the world.
For me a big hug and a sweet kiss.
Our son and daughter I have twirled.
For you have shown me the meaning of true bliss,
Within your arms I now lay curled.

Paul Fancett

FATHER’S DAY

It’s Father’s Day.
That’s when we say we ’preciate our dads.
For all the mechanical advice, and the loans we’ve had.
So here he is, I present our Chris, or Bamps as many know him.
Our president, or captain, the subject of this poem.
In that fine head, we find a mind, keen and sharp and quick.
On Sudoku, crosswords, or maths, he is still slick.
And now he sails on journeys long, his new boat bigger, and shiny.
His crew obey every command, when rounding Cowes on the briny.
So here’s to dad, or Bamps, or Chris. The man who carries and cooks.
A decent chap, and my old pap, The source of my good looks.

Giles Highnam

WESLEY AND HIS COLD

My name is Wesley and I’ve got a cold
My skin is all wrinkly, and I look so old
There’s no one to love me or give me a cuddle
My nose is all blocked and my head’s in a fuddle
Nobody loves me because I’ve got a germ
Nobody loves me anyway because I’m a worm
A worm with a germ is strictly taboo,
I bet you’re glad you’re not me, aren’t you?
I’m here in my worm hole and I’m freezing,
Sniffling and snuffling, snitching and sneezing.
Here in my worm hole, all on my own,
I’m a worm with a germ and I’m all alone.

Ann Rogers

WASHING DAY

Monday is washing day
Soak the clothes in the tub
With bare hands rub and scrub
Sunlight soap and lots of suds
Is this enough to remove the mud
All the whites in the copper
Boiling now good and proper
Time to rinse in the sink
Washing day, it just stinks
To squeeze the water out the clothes
In the mangle they must go
In one end and out the other
Flat as a pancake, said my mother
Peg them on the washing line
A day’s work done just in time
Times have changed, it’s now washing automatic
Thank goodness for that, I'm just ecstatic

Patricia Blackett

THE WAR YEARS

War years, I remember so well,
My mother she would often tell
Of days when there were no bombs or crashes
The constant fear, those endless dashes,
The looking up into the sky,
And seeing enemy planes fly by.
Black curtains had to be pulled tight
To keep out the slightest light
School lessons were often stopped
As down the bowels of the building we’d flop
We would sit and wait with fear
Until the siren sounded all clear
Another item we had to endure
Gas masks that smelt like a sewer,
We were told a gas invasion
Might one day attack our nation,
Luckily it never came
Hitler, he’s the one to blame.

Joan Cook

AWAITING THE PROGNOSIS

I’m sitting here in a terrified state
Awaiting the prognosis of my dastardly fate
I’ve got a boil stirring on my bum
And I know she’ll press it with her manicured thumb
OUCH I’ll scream, it’s full of puss
She’ll say stop making a fuss
Sitting here in a positive line, every face I look at
Seems OK, seems to be fine
Fat, thin, young and old
But in that office, humiliation will unfold
My magazine now stuck firmly to my nose
The printer’s ink shows how fibrous broccoli,
If planted properly, can do your bowels a treat
Plus the benefits for corns and tired, aching feet
No one would ever know, no one would ever guess
My pouting yellow disorder, about to manifest
I’m white with fright and shaking with fear
I’d rather be anywhere than in here
Oh Mr Boil, doctor will see you next.

Beverley Qassab

CHOSE TO BE

Some boys dream of playing football
Alongside their team idols.
To be a champion in their league
To play for queen and country.
Some girls want to be a star
To sing or dance on stage,
Or make it onto our screens
To be adored by many.
Everyone wants to be a hero
Just like the images of the past
Of dragon-slayers and mighty knights
Or wise wizards and magical potions
Where good always rivalled evil.
Fantasies fill all our lives
In dreams or in reality
And champions lay inside us all
In whatever we chose to be.

Martine Gafney

YEARNING

I am alone with my innermost thoughts
Of yesteryear
The glass now two thirds empty
Stands on its slender stem
Meeting the emerald-coloured base
That holds aloft the bulbous cup
With the deep red wine of oblivion,
No more the haunting memories
Of wonderful days of yore,
Oblivion.
My love, my dearest dear,
Oh that you were here
To share my life and love again.

Henry G Bradstreet

HIDDEN COTTAGE

Deep in the woods, a cottage stands
Birds and animals always heard
But seldom seen.
Winter has shed its icy grip
Springtime’s here instead
And not far off summer
I love this time of year.
Flowers are growing, all so wild
Trees abound, so grand
Their branches spread out widely
To shelter creatures of the land.
Water trickles to a stream
So fresh and clear to see
Peacefulness is all around
And so much tranquillity

Jean Brooks

NOT WORKING

The pitiful rain acquiesces with gravity
The city stills itself to sleep
Numb from the rush of the day.
The streets are abandoned to the foxes
And I bear witness to the silence.
All is well, and I am not working.

Edward Gommon

ON THE SOMME

How many fields of crosses lie?
You could maybe count them if you try.
Each one a young man, never to grow old,
Each one a story, but most never told.
Why was it so many were buried so deep
In the bowels of the earth, for God to keep?
They had no say, they were told to go
To the foreign land, and fight the foe.
What did they know of these war-like things?
When, only yesterday it seems,
They were playing on swings.
Not long before, safe in their mother’s womb,
Now maybe tomorrow, the cold of their tomb.
Leaving behind only mothers to yearn,
When, oh when will they ever learn?

Michael Barry Cleere

Dedicated to my mum. Keep a light burning, I’ll find you. I will love you always, goodnight and god bless, mum.

I LOVE THE SEA

It’s fun to be by the sea
It’s fun to see nothing but thee
The sun on my face glowing right through
Reflecting my feelings and love for you
The warmth and embrace of the sweet smelling breeze
I feel so relaxed and completely at ease
It’s times like this that I can dig deep within
See things clearly and not in a spin
I understand what’s expected of me
What I should do and what is to be
Sometimes I’m right, I have been wrong
One thing I know, it’s here I belong
I’ve been here, there and everywhere
For those places I don’t care
Sometimes it’s rough, stormy and grey but
I still wouldn’t change a single day
Then comes the calm, silky smooth you
I love the sea, I love you blue

Pinku Ahluwalia

Dedicated to the people who brought me to Seaford, who will always be remembered and loved.

SOLEMN DUTY

The coach glistened, as its highly polished panels reflected the sun,
The windows immaculate, no dirt or water stains that run.
Buffed up at every available chance,
Pristine care and condition could be seen at a glance.
The shafts were readied for use, and raised,
Two highly groomed mares reversed into place.
Their jet-black coats shone proud and bright,
They complemented the coach in the shimmering light.
Harnesses attached and plumes standing high
On top of their heads, pointing to the sky.
They’d a job to do, so must look their best,
While they carried the coffin to lay to rest.
Today’s task was sensitive and it was quite clear,
They knew that the cortege would shed a tear.
With a coffin of white and finished in brass,
The pallbearer had an unenviable task.
The death of a baby is a solemn affair,
Mourners, and passers by stop and stare.
The life had been short, to say the least,
So we hope that the child can now rest in peace.

Jim Bell

ONCE UPON A LIFE

Once upon a life, long years ago
Mum and dad and me and our black cat
Not much money, not a lot to show
But love was busy in our little flat
Mum always there, to love and care for me
Dad working hard to keep us warm and fed
Evenings we spent reading, dad and me
Till eight o’clock when mum said, Time for bed.
So different in those long distant years
I would not change those dear days for today
How sad that life now holds so many fears
We thought the war had swept them all away
Could it return, that simple life we had?
When innocence was cherished - gone today
And children grew up slowly, good and bad
Knowing they could not always have their way
Our songs are mellow, every word was clear
Romance was thrilling, sex still miles away
No mobile phones that everyone could hear
I wish I could return to yesterday

Patricia Hatswell

MY NAN

I will always love you in every single way
Love is all around you each and every day
Open up your heart, I know you love me too
Vegetarian you are, I am so proud of you
Everyone knows I love you very much
You’re always there for a hug
Open arms, you’re nice and warm and snug
Utterly wonderful, you are my lovely nan

Samuel Stripe.

ODE TO SACHA

O Sacha, O Sacha, my exotic pet
You are the most wonderful creature I’ve met
With your glorious writhing coils
Viewed from afar like painters’ oils.
I love them wrapped about my neck
So I can stroke you.
O what the heck.
If friends say you are not nice
Simply because you love dead mice.
You are my best friend, you gorgeous python.
Your coils entwine me like a cyclone.
If people shun you left and right,
I know you’ll be able to show your might.
By sliding around and scaring them stiff,
By hissing and kissing and causing a tiff,
So they will panic and run away.
To leave us alone so you can stay
And keep me happy canoodling together
A state which I hope will last forever.

Mary Leonard

CARMARTHEN

A town once lay silent, where everyone is known,
Safe and quite secluded, with unlocked open doors.
Do not be disillusioned in passing of the time,
This town is seldom frightening, we rarely hear of crime.
Impressive and abundant in ancient history,
A place that’s very friendly, somewhere you want to be.
Blessed with grace and culture, famous people know,
Flourishing young starlets, this town was once their home.
Not far are fun-filled beaches, and the greenest countryside,
You will hear cwmanfa canu, if you seek a joyful time.
This town has much to offer, with designer fashion chains,
A market place on Wednesday, and the castle still remains.
Nightclubs for the youngsters to jig the night away,
Or restaurants for the elders, some dance and cabaret.
Carmarthen keeps its beauty, and boasts its quaintly charms,
The people here will greet you, with open held-out arms.

Susan Stacey

Dedicated with love to Jesus Christ - my redeemer. Glory be to Him alone and to my daughter Tracey for her encouragement.

OUR HOUSE

It doesn’t seem that long ago
When five lived in our house
Everyone fought for the bathroom
Never silent or quiet as a mouse
Well things do change as years go by
Our children grow and leave
But we always have each other
That’s what we do believe
Then life can deal a painful blow
We lose the ones we love
The ones we can depend on
Gone to heaven above
So here I sit in stillness and quiet
In the house once filled with fun
The rooms have all fell silent
Everyone has gone
But then exciting news arrives
A grandma I’ve become
A little ray of sunshine
To bring joy back to our home

Bonita Lewington

SOUND OF LOVE

I cradle my own spirit,
I rock you to sleep, my love.
My child, oh how I love thee,
My arms enfold upon thy soul.
My heart beats for you,
My legs walk with you,
And I think as you.
Glory be to thee, in thy name hold me close,
Guide my to thy glory, wait for me.
Wait for me to call thy name,
To whisper the sounds of your love,
To grant your entire life
With the wisdom of the ages.
Hold thine own, and I will hold it also.
Be you, be you in your highest thought,
And I shall be there to greet thee,
With outstretched love I guarantee.
And the whole
Shall reflect,
Upon this world.

Keri Littlewood

MY GARDEN

I love to be in my garden to see my flowers grow,
And also to see my vegetables, all in the row,
With my tomato plants lined up like soldiers,
As high as my head and shoulders.
I’m waiting for the crops to grow,
With the red tomato which comes with a glow,
The potatoes are ready in the ground,
I hope I will get a great few pounds.
To see them grow is such a pleasure,
To see what I have achieved at my own leisure.

Ursula Davies

THE MORNING SONG

Who are these people who sleep and sleep,
What do they fail to hear,
The sounds that the early riser knows,
Happy birdsong echoing here.
Slowly wakening from deeper night,
The gradual light of the dawn,
The cockerel crowing to his delight,
The sun is slowly born.
Up with the lark as the saying goes,
Climb up to the hilltop high,
In the green flat meadows, the grasses flow,
As we see the skylark fly.
He hovers just above the trees,
His wings rotating neatly,
We pause, the sound is on the breeze,
Perpetual motion singing sweetly.
The traveller wanders down the berns,
Into the valley below.
So many song birds echoing here,
Does the early riser really know?

Minetta Morris

I’M NOT DYING

Why do you stand by my bed and weep?
I am happy here in my drug-induced sleep.
Yes, I came here in dreadful pain,
But now all I know is a quiet refrain.
The tubes and wires and bleeping machines,
I can tell that you know what it all means.
I drift in and out and I see your face,
Do you know that your make-up is all over the place?
The doctor says they are doing all that they can,
And you know me, I'm a strong man.
No, I tell you, I am not dying,
And life is too short for all that crying.

Mandy Laird-Robertson

Dedicated to my dad Robert Roy. I smile that he had lived, and continue to sing his praise.

THE BILLIARD HALL

In a cesspool dank,
Where bodies stank,
And solids lay covered
In filth.
Our group surveyed,
Nor were dismayed,
At the dregs of human
Silt.
In those murky depths
Lurk Lucifer’s adepts.
Dwell shadows of former
Selfs.
Masturbations, pollution,
Resolve dissolution,
And pride rots high on the shelf.
Machinations of fate,
Unfortunately create
Grim spectres and souls
In torment.
The billiard slaughter,
The landlord’s daughter.
The illusion of time well spent.

David Graham

NEW BEGINNINGS

Today is a brand new day
That the Lord has given to me,
That He has allowed me to see.
Today is a different day,
I no longer live in yesterday,
I put behind yesterday
And look to today, a brand new day,
Not allowing the past to consume me,
But looking ahead to what my Saviour has for me,
I shan’t dwell on the past,
I shall pray for it,
I can’t predict the future,
I can pray into it.
The past I give to You,
For it’s not mine to hold on to,
At this present time I look to You,
And I give into your hands that which You’ve given to me,
The blessing of a brand new day.

Amanda Hemmings

LOST LOVE

I let love slip through my fingers
Because I didn’t grip it tight enough
I held love in my hands
And thought it would stay forever
I failed to see the gaps between my fingers
I failed to see I needed help to hold love tight
I failed to see the wily friend who saw
My twisted fingers and snatched love from my sight
And now she grips it tight
And she is in command
Of every grain of sand
That was my love

Marion Hickman

STAY

I wish that I could demonstrate my urge to
Circumnavigate the world and see its glory,
At the dawn of each new day.
The need I feel to get away is eating at the heart of me,
I really spend time thinking of it,
But I very rarely say.
I’d need to be articulate, resourceful,
And to calculate the expense involved with travelling,
And how that I would pay.
But I cannot stop wondering,
About my thoughts on wandering,
And have come to the conclusion,
That it’s here that I should stay.

Sharon Richardson

THE BUTTERFLY

Cocooned against the world you were safe,
Free from prying eyes you waited patiently until the allotted time,
Cushioned, protected from all uncertainties.
But now is your moment,
The time to break out of your shell and reveal yourself in all your glory.
Slowly, carefully, with God given precision,
Moment by moment you are released.
The world waits to greet you, whispering gently as the magic unfolds.
The effort is tiring and you pause, gathering your thoughts of new beginnings.
The warmth around you inspires and you feel excitement mounting slowly, steadily,
gaining momentum.
At last, in a declaration of triumph, you open yourself
completely.
Indescribable beauty shines from your very being.
You draw others to you as humbly you present yourself.
Your new life beckons and all that you have waited for is within your grasp.
It is time to rise, to greet the new dawn
And fly!

Cathy Start

SUMMERTIME

Candy striped blazers and boaters to boot
Flowered frocks, frilly hats what a hoot
Summer sun and natures colours surrounds
Insects drone and hum, laughter and mirth abounds
The village church with its leaded eyes
Its bird flocked gothic tower flirt with skies
Striped parasols shading people
Antique maypole swirling under church steeple
The village green duck ponded serene
Idyllic summer all green
No foreign field could ever out scene

Scribbler

BRIDGE WORLD

Going to the bridge club is my delight,
Meeting bridge-players every night.
It fulfils the mind, the reward is great,
Everyone ready to concentrate.
The deal of the hands are usually mixed,
As we count up how many tricks.
A partnership game to understand,
Like an auction, you bid your hand.
Some players are quick, ready to adapt,
Others ponder awhile, not to be trapped.
To win a contract the best of all,
Is a great achievement on the call.
The passion for bridge is to win,
To lead an ace, not a queen.
There are times a card will indicate,
To return the suit or leave it to fate.
Points are awarded to the top six,
It’s a challenge, to gain the most tricks,
For the secret of bridge is to memorise,
To be top of the list, a great surprise.

Doreen Barella

AN ODE TO THE GOLFER

We in the clubhouse, warm and snug,
Watch in wonder as you all lug
Heavy bags of sticks, and lots of balls.
Do you really need them all?
Out you go, in the pouring rain
We often wonder, are you insane?
The rain comes down, the wind it blows.
Why are you out there? No one knows.
Cheeks are glowing. All are rosy.
We’re in the clubhouse. All is cosy.
In you come, with frozen feet,
Have a drink and a bite to eat.
Oh the bliss, and what a treat,
Foaming beer. The food is good.
Oh look at this, you’ve brought in mud.
Now you are for it. Better get going,
Look outside. It’s started snowing.
Home you go, one and all
This game of golf.
What a load of balls.

Pauline Dixon

WHO’S THAT?

I look in the mirror
What do I see?
A stranger looking back at me,
Pale, moist eyes
Staring curiously
With longing, for the sparkle
There used to be.
Hello, old person
This is where you’re at.
Grab the purple hat,
Go dig the garden,
Stroke the cat.
Hallelujah,
You’re not dead yet.

Eleanor D Clapham

JUST LET ME CLOSE THIS DOOR

When innocence is distorted, stolen or betrayed,
To reach back for normality can make you feel afraid.
From my clouded heart I send a smile,
The pain and hurt I will keep awhile.
This pain, this pain, it’s very sharp,
Randomly it stabs my heart.
It twists and turns, it chokes me,
I’m trapped, it’s dark, I cannot see.
My emotions toss around inside,
I love, I loathe, I cannot hide.
Take away the demon, which in my soul does rest,
The passion which is rightly mine, allows me to caress.
Someone stole my happiness, they took it right away,
I am strong though and will claim it back some day.
Please help me to feel normal, let my spirit free,
What could you do, how could you help,
Just hold my hand I guess.
Just for now allow me to feel the hurt and pain,
Allow me time to comprehend, what could that monster gain?
Be there when I need you, I can ask no more.
Be patient, I’ll be back real soon. Just let me close this door.

Sharron O’Reilly

Dedicated to Georgie and Kai with heartfelt sympathy for Carla and Karen. God Bless.

MASTERY

Treading on molluscs and broken stone, the grittiness of the sandy shore.
Harsh underfoot between my toes, bleeding quietly and sore.
I bend down to pick up a fragile shell, a tiny creature inside it lies,
Twitching, insular within his well, amoebic, sightless,
needing my eyes.
Outside is plainness, ordinary, dull, brittle with no colour at all,
Innate inside his vacuous hull, an unimpressive worm ball.
Then he turns and spits in my face, his rescue from
solitude dismissed,
His poison seeps into my inner soul, hissing his words of remiss.
I thought that he came out of the deep, a creature so
wonderful and free,
Instead he spends all his days asleep, staring at himself in the sea.
I try to look inside again, to see if I see him smile,
But all I can see is his hideous pain, and his face all
covered in bile.

Chris Smith

THE HOMELESS MAN

What are you hiding sir in that grey lonely face?
Has someone hurt you? Are you losing the race?
Your eyes are so dull, not even a glance
You are sitting there as if in a trance.
I don’t want to hurt you - I would just like to know
If there is someone to love you? I feel for you so.
Is there a mother, a daughter, a girlfriend or a wife
Someone to lean on to get you through this strife?
When you are in this state, you feel like running for cover
Give yourself peace and in time you’ll recover.
The main thing that you need is a listening ear,
Someone you can trust and in whom you have no fear.
Who can you trust when your nerves are on the edge?
I will look after you, is what I now pledge.
Near here is a shelter for people in a plight
Just take my arm and you will soon see the light.

Veronica Conway

Dedicated to all those who have ever been there for me.

THE VOID

Beautiful clothes, beautiful hair,
Expensive perfume permeated the air.
The chandelier twinkles and shimmers,
Catching in its glimmers, the sparkling crystal.
Filled to the brim with nature's bounty,
Fruit of the vine, work of man's hands, dark and rich.
The lady reaches for her survival kit,
Filling the void from within.
Rags and tatters, dirty hair,
The smell of decay fills the air.
The stars break out from the velvet sky,
Like miniature crystals, twinkling and shimmering,
Catching in their glimmering, the shiny jar, filled
to the brim with man-made nectar.
Meths, white and burning, but such was the yearning,
He reaches out with shaking hands for his survival kit
Filling the void from within.

Marie Black

MY RESCUE

When I was ill and filled with fear
I wrote to fill my heart with cheer
Poems and funny little rhymes
To help me through the awful times
I used to laugh, for they were funny
I even thought they’d make some money
I used to wake up in the night
With inspiration and recite
Another little verse or so
And feel my world was all aglow
I found a Christian healing meeting
And for hundreds there was seating
There we sat, just me and mum
For not another soul would come
Healing will flow at the mention of His name
They sang, I remembered why I came
I went up front and said a prayer
I felt that no one else was there
Except the Lord, He was all around
He’d brought me home, and made me sound

Valerie Burch

COFFEE

The black cup,
The brown full moon,
The black saucer,
The Silver Spoon
The Milky-way,
White as snow,
Poured into the brown moon,
Forming clouds below.
The clouds go together, round and round,
The silver spoon joins in, then goes down,
The clouds form together to become a moon,
The moon’s colour is creamy brown.

Mark Abd-Mariam

THE TOILET SEAT GOES DOWN IN MY BATHROOM

The toilet seat goes down in my bathroom.
It’s so simple, and yet I feel so content at its sight.
The toilet seat goes down in my bathroom,
Because it’s a boyfriend free zone.
A broken record for four years,
But no more.
I bow down to boyfriend toilet training after four years of failure.
The toilet seat goes down in my bathroom.
It’s a fact, a rule, a guide to any man who wants to be a part of my life.
Future boyfriends, take note, listen and learn,
The toilet seat goes down in my bathroom.

Rachel Street

REMEMBERING

She smiled
And then said goodbye,
And slipped away, as if into the next room.
A paralysing stillness washed over you;
And your heart was suspended too.
Selfless and brave,
She had never been one to even whisper complaint.
Ever strong,
A courageous and miraculous woman.
And over the years together,
Now seeming but a fleeting moment in time,
Your lives had been blended by the love of each other.
A truly close and happy marriage,
Coupled with an intrinsically deep friendship.
Sharing, caring and utter devotion
Had been your bywords to a content and long marriage.
Time may seem frozen now
And it's your turn to show determination and strength,
Until one day you meet again
In the room next door.

Maria Guzvic

Dedicated to Rebecca, Ryan, Lisa, Carmen, Kieran and Jordan. My love to each of you.

PERENNIAL FLOWS

Thoughts strike
Words arrest
Suspension spreads
Lines shine
Sentiments sound
Rhymes mime
Words provoke thoughts
Communication forms
Figures of speech speak
Syllables stress and un-stress
Feet are measured to undress
Persona gives expressions
Ballads tell stories
Lyrics sing, odes dance
Sonnets strive to let strophic find
Couplets, triplets, quatrains and quintets
Sextets, septets, octaves, nine or ten lines
Villanelles, sestinas and many more
Naturalisation is possible only in parody
To see the poets’ bodies and souls in prosody

Anantha Rudravajhala

THE PHANTOM PIPER PLAYS

On any day, in any street, the phantom piper plays,
Addicts meet, dance to his tune, and to the piper pays.
Shaking, sweating, vacant-eyed, nothing wrong with us they cry,
We’re in control, we don’t need help, as another young child dies.
The phantom piper, deaf and dumb, to his ways the weak succumb,
First your pride, then your wealth, destroys your soul, destroys your health.
This person you believe you need is killing you with poisoned weed.
Look into the mirror black, a monkey sits upon your back,
Its grin gets bigger with each snort, another one the piper’s caught.
Surf the mirror, you will find the person lost is just behind,
Come forward, do not be afraid, step into the light.
We welcome you with open arms, we want to share your pain,
The person that once you were, can return again.
The phantom piper will appear, walk away, have no fear,
You will never walk alone, God’s with you all the way.

Roy Phillips

Dedicated to my late wife Eileen. I promised you I would keep writing, love; I have and I will.

THE MAGPIES CHATTER

Clifford Woodfield

DINO

Sarah Reast

© Terry Thornton - 2006-2008 United Press Ltd