Theresa Vogrin

Tonight, let’s get drunk on vodka and high on melancholy while our lives are running away from us too fast, let’s look up to the dark sky which has the colour of your soul and the colour of the ink…

Read More

Nicola Daly

How We Lost Our God It began with the pop of Papa`s gun. Then there was the thud of the front door and Mama was gone. Without warning our house stopped being a home. Every morning after there was a…

Read More

Natalie Crick

Through Bitter Eyes   Maple branches etch An ink blue moon. The sky opens it’s banners like lips, Azure tapestries furled back into stratus clouds. Petals lost to wind Will blanket the ground. Dew on rust Will run like dried…

Read More

Lawrence Upton

Love, making delicious it’s particularly nice natural, and ghoulish   intensity of sun comforting   smooth feeling soothed, ideal   smelling that which evaporates   nose and eyes apply frequently good-looking and sweet conventional and rubbing it in   but…

Read More

Lana Bella

INTERRUPTURE   Sometimes a single boat turns to hush, when the thundering sea lurches from daring to dread, like a lone muezzin's contralto intoning at solitary closed vowels. Mnemonic, disembodied inside the sky between foreground and background, where miasma would have sped sepia through, the naked moon orbits silent inside…

Read More

Ian C. Smith

Borne Back   Driven through time to my old area, the day splendid, unlike movie funeral weather, an observation Jane would have appreciated, I gaze at sere paddocks, towards mountains, picture my former home, the huge bird’s nest fern now…

Read More

Gale Acuff

Work in Progress   It’s the same poem that I wrote last night but it’s better. Honestly. You should have seen last night’s draft. Ugh. And I’ll write it again --but better still--tomorrow night. If I could live forever this…

Read More

Donal Mahoney

Love Is Another Thing   Sitting at the table spinning the creamer running her fingers through sugar the kids spilled at supper, Sue   suddenly says, “Don, love is another thing.” Since love is another thing I have to go…

Read More

Chris McDermott

Cycling to work on a winter morning The hour is dark and the dawn still drowsy beneath the dim lit rim of the world, weary with waiting for the stinting short light of winter. The crisp, clear sky still scored…

Read More
  • 1
  • 2