By: S. A. Gerber Edgar Allan Poe carves the roast—Dorothy Parker stands to toast—Hemmingway begins to boast—Shakespeare sits with ‘Hamlet’s’ ghost. Blake, alas, not using rhyme—Emily Dickinson looks sublime—Virginia and Gertrude in their prime—Dylan Thomas pours more wine. Nathaniel West…

By: Amrita Valan I was a rather shy reserved kid, a little contrary, little droll, piping up to voice rather eccentric observations. Quiet, but opinionated. And demonstrations of this facet of me were available on various occasions. Like the time…

By: Salim Yakubu Akko Grief as My Uncle I’ve learnt how to speak in my motherlandas how a toddler learns how to walkthe language of grief I was taught how to countas how young poets reckon poetry linesthe colours of…

By Patricia Saunders Taking wings I am falling in emptiness with no handrail to clutch,I am drawing in breath and plunging down passagewayswith invisible steps that vanish when trod.I am dim with night, and full of light,transparent in darkness and…

By T. G. Bianco Laying on a bed of nails,I mustn’t move or budge.Every breath I take draws blood.Why am I on a bed of nails?It’s quite simple,I . . .was . . .born.Born with a mind that couldn’t give…

By: Rebecca Dempsey The Astrologer’s DaughterThe Traitor’s DaughterThe Baker’s DaughterThe Quilter’s DaughterThe Bonesetter’s DaughterThe Witch’s DaughterThe Botanist’s DaughterThe Poacher’s DaughterThe Calligrapher’s DaughterThe Preacher’s DaughterThe Captain’s DaughterThe Ringmaster’s DaughterThe Clockmaker’s DaughterThe Sin Eater’s DaughterThe Demon Trapper’s DaughterThe Warlord’s DaughterThe Fortune Teller’s…

By: Mayesha Islam Abanti The rays of sun, never so pallid before.I gaze, I gaze at the world outside. Timeless and tormenting.My mother is drying her tears of glum as she boils water in the kitchen.“Dear God, fix my weary…

By: Jim Bates Thought disposing thought.Good memories forgotten.Greenhouse gases proliferating.Grey mood developing.Days seemingly numbered.Meaning is lost until tomorrow,When it begins again.Belly button starring into the abyss.Wake up now!Wake up, Fate cries out,Before you’ve lost yourself,This one chance you’ll ever haveTo…

By: David Pike Skies Of Westerhope The dream was that the hay bales would take you,To go building skiesBeyond their fields in a black and white photographOf yourself with the lure of that distanceOver thereWhere you were told you could…

By: Michael Pollentine Teacher I didn’t steal the fucking cow.Is what I wish I had said.But,I was four years old.I was gentle.I was in shock.Shock, that I was not allowed to state my case,That my friend went and toldIgnoring my…