Bádh Bheanntraighe
By Victoria Foxx
Overcast sky throws shades of grey,
where freezing waves hiss and share
their memories, along Bantry Bay
With an icy bite in salty air,
the spray rains down from overhead,
a watery veil of grieving.
The sea gives up her bloated dead -
departed but never leaving.
Tangled feelings plague frozen thought,
like rotting seaweed on the shore
of rebel country, where men fought
while dreams of liberty and more
were written into history.
A sister dies, another weeps
and murmurs of the mystery
of chance and of the hungry deep.
Dispassionate, the ocean foams
and cares not for those left to grieve;
the wind brings voices, heard to moan
their anguish that they cannot leave
the water’s chill embrace, or walk
again along the windswept sand.
Trapped spirits in the ocean talk
through fickle waves along the strand.
From "Who I Am" by Victoria Foxx
Africa
By Robert Staniford
Glass of cider in her hand –
she took short sips and showed
a wide-eyed smile to welcome all
who glanced her way.
_____Maelstrom of colour.
the African shirt she wore
to simulate her summer dress,
concealing nothing
of those endless legs.
“I’m doing ethnic now,” she said.
“Just call me Africa
_____and don’t give me no dread.”
She laughed and blew a kiss my way.
I smiled but couldn’t think
of something cool to say.
In designer clothes,
with well heeled friends,
she stood and stared across
the quayside at the rain swept sea;
hardly noticed me as I approached
beside the harbour wall.
_____"Where's Africa today?” I asked.
She laughed and took a sip
of iced champagne.
"Africa died yesterday when world leaders
decided she must now find her own way.
Her poverty is not their fault, they say;
now I have to live the way they lead -
leave someone else to grieve
and feel the passion.
_____I simply have to follow
_____today’s fashion.”…
From "Dining with Gods" by Robert Staniford
Water Soluble
By Sam Levin
Schizo-chronic descent into denial.
It’s so vile,
Slimy rhymes slither,
before withering on the vine.
For awhile I will rant in accordance with demand,
My Demand
and then heave a sigh
with a breath of smoky air.
At least, that’s the plan.
Because gravity gorges itself on weight,
so wait a second before applying your template.
Don’t pigeonhole an already caged refugee
taking refuge in the hypocrisy he perceives.
In a dream…
State of fanciful dancing to a chord of blues
with a shot of scotch just to prove I can.
It’s true that I’ve mangled every previous attempt
and that redemption isn’t forthcoming.
So is this a lament?...
Or is this the hand of a man reaching out to touch the water?
Bartering his medication for a muse too hard to swallow.
It’s a hard place, this cliff and jagged rocks to crush the hopes
of a hermit too proud too jump and too afraid to swim.
So skim off the caged pages
too enraged to take a break,
or a breather.
Why do either?
To stop now is a mistake.
From "Cat Scan Variations" by Sam Levin
A Gem Jen Wells
By Virginia Muller
Lilies of the Valley, pure, white
Sweetness, humility whisper
Bell like blossoms, loll in twilight
Briolette emeralds, greenish, bright
May, presents a month of rapture
Lilies of theValley, pure, white
God's May Lily, a holy sight
A gem Jen progenies mother
Bell like blossoms, loll in twilight
Fireflies wing on a starlit flight
Wells that run deep, like no other
Lilies of theValley, pure, white
A beauty that outshines the night
My boy's wife, honorable, pure
Bell like blossoms, loll in twilight
Matrimony etch, God in sight
Christianly, vow, both believers
Lilies of theValley, pure, white
Belllike blossoms, loll in twilight
From "Attempting Possible Dreams" by Virginia Muller
