By Kerstin Lindros Solid block of humanity, shopfronts to kerb, threatens to swallow me Unstoppable stream no air between body parts but with senses sharpened the bodies part, and strangers brush against my coat softly Unobtrusive intuitive, as if steered … Continued
By Jean Pearce When Charlie came back to Rippleside after the war, he cut the floor boards at the front door, buckled, as a pack of cards left out in the sun and rain. Cut with the hand saw he … Continued
By Jo Curtain I’m looking for me. I’m twenty. Instead I find my first dead body. I try to revive him, but he’s long dead. I leave everything behind: all that confuses me, all that is funny delusions and all. … Continued
by Jo Curtain her heart was quietly failing as the light moved across the white walls her hands. she laid supine in bed seeking peace. her life no longer her own she had given over her name, her clothes, her … Continued
By Jo Curtain An angel dressed in yellow, emerges like unfolding petals. head – transparent strands of hair her mouth an upturn crack, serene lines of calmness on anaemic skin. Shoulders – yellow crochet shawl slender spindles in yellow socks … Continued
By David Bridge Pile the earth tightly around us, For in death there is no social distancing. In life we huddled your pavements, Dying, we leave not a word, Or even a name to mark our passing. We were here … Continued
As announced on Games of Thrones, “Winter is coming”, but instead of walking icicles, we are threatened with extinction by bouncing droplets. I curse the infection, I condemn to Hell the prevaricators and politicos who have made our lives so miserable, and … Continued
By Ivor Steven Outside alone, stoically I stand Old toes gripping into cold sandHere my lawn cover is sparseBut I see the universe in a blade of grass Under my feet I feel our planet’s groundAbove I see a grey … Continued
I was washing my hands and about to move to the blow drier when a woman burst into the restroom. I stopped in my tracks and stared. She was dressed in cords and carried a large canvas type bag. She had a hat covered in flowers with a tiny American flag stuck in the band.
‘Tis the season to be quite jolly, rather merry and to take a break from the writing life. But then, there’s that itch at the end of one’s fingers, a keyboard tapping away by itself at midnight, or the pages of one’s journal aching to be filled and satisfied.