*Featured image courtesy of Andreas Rasmussen on Unsplash* This week we have some wonderful poems by Sarah Daly. Don’t let their size fool you. They may be short, but these poems are full of emotion. Enjoy! At Day’s End Leaf after leaf drops on the autumn path. They piece a rich quilt of crimsons and golds and corals which cover the dirt; my feet crush them, obliterate them, grind them into the soft earth. But the landscape does nothing to penetrate November’s loneliness. Stars Incandescent circles weave through the night sky, their shadows traversing our tangled limbs and signifying joy, joy, joy. In the Now Don’t say it, whatever you think, don’t say the words, we are trapped in this reality TV lifestyle (go along go along) don’t open your mouth, there is no more…
3 Poems by Josh Young
*Featured image courtesy of Ajeet Mestry on Unsplash* We have an excellent selection of poems for you this week by the poet, Josh Young. He claims to be new to writing, but after reading these poems, he certainly has the makings of a talented writer. Take a look at them below. Violence on TV Violence is acceptable on TV Dead bodies mangled by war Charred corpses of an accident Bloody remains of a murder Nudity is not acceptable Naked bodies are disgusting According to TV censors Except on certain channels Nipples and areolas exposed Cannot be tolerated It goes against our morals Our morals for wholesome TV Full of violence Full of blood Full of gore But free from nudity Phone Addiction the opium high of the screen’s soft glow electronic endorphins are pumped into …
Poignant Miles of Lakeside Boneyard by PS Conway
*Featured image courtesy of Pau Sayrol on Unsplash* Here is another beautiful piece brought to us by our Poet in Residence, PS Conway. Take a look! Clouds hang low o’er Doolough Valley wispt and haunted like we ghosts who recall the horrors of hunger recall a child who fed like sheep eating grass beside the Dead felled roadside recall the cold that bites so deep through gossamer skin, nowhere to hide from the damp, from the cries carrion crows pull out the eyes of a frail father whose name remains oh so forgotten oh so long ago but the land ne’er forgets its recollections will ne’er relent nor forgive a foreign aristocrat’s neglect for the blight of poverty’s anguishes the poor, the chosen folk of Jesus Christ no loaves nor fish for you and I…
Vera West: Plucked Release and Excerpt
Vera West, our amazing poetry barista, has recently released her novel in verse, Plucked. A lot of hard work and dedication went into bringing it to life, and Vera was kind enough to share a brief excerpt of it with us. There’s also an interview at the end to give you some insight into what inspired Plucked‘s creation. 8 I hated the city bus; the sticky floors, the lurking men staring from faded plastic seats. It creeped me out, but it couldn’t be avoided. With my ride secured, the next complication to iron out was a parental signature on Everleigh’s admission forms. I couldn’t transfer without it. The bus stopped at the Ninth Cat, my granny’s barbershop on the corner of a rundown street in my rundown town, but its faded red paint shone like…
4 Poems by L. Lois
*Featured image courtesy of Eric Ward on Unsplash.* L. Lois has submitted some wonderful poems to us that touch on a deep emotional level. She fits right in with our humble community, so let’s give her a warm welcome! Intimate Partner Ricochet Biscuits fragile flowers are precious because they survived the runaround of a dangerous game Ricochet Biscuits played in earnest up is down and questioning sanity is the point where you can’t clarify the rules before the next assault arrives and the survivors spend a lifetime placing themselves in a vase with cracks that seep chips that cut flying objects and words that land crooked forever Literary Ironic from the Times: smart, funny, captivating from the Globe: ingenious literary conceit from the Post: dazzlingly clever, gravely profound from the Telegraph: a comic tale, a masterpiece from the Chronicle: fantastically entertaining from the author: like microorganisms mindlessly intent on some distant objective,…
“I Slept in my Clothes Last Night” by Alan Berger
*Featured image courtesy of Shane on Unsplash* Alan Berger shares another one of his poems with us this week. This poem has quite a sad tone, mixed in with some excellent lines and rhyme schemes. It all goes by so quick One day you’re experiencing Your first licorice stick The next day you’re at your urologist’s Hat in hand covering your dick It was not more than a few ago years When my melodic voice caught pretty ears It all goes by so tough A familiar thought is I have had enough But you plow Somehow I wrestle with myself In the dark With the eternal As I make my way thru the external Sometimes I sit at the end of my bed as my feet shake the floor The guy in the apartment below…
Mario Loprete: Urban Paintings on Concrete Pt.2
We are happy to feature the talented Mario Loprete once again on our website. Mario shares even more of his paintings and sculptures with us, showcasing his unique and captivating style. Artist Statement: Painting is my first love. An important, pure love. The base of my paintings starts from the spasmodic research of a concept and transforms into a message that I want to send to the viewer. The sculpture is my lover, my artistic betrayal of the painting. That voluptuous and sensual lover that gives me different emotions, that touches prohibited cords . . . I worked exclusively on my concrete sculptures in the last few years. I use my personal clothing for my concrete sculptures. Through my artistic process, in which I use plaster, resin and cement, I transform them into artworks to…
Pablo, by Ronan Hart
*Featured image courtesy of Ben Hershey on Unsplash* Everyone handles grief differently, and Ronan manages to capture this excellently in this short story. Enjoy, and happy Independence Day for those of you who celebrate! He’s sitting at the top of the steps leading down from the decking to the lawn, facing away from us. His head is bowed, showing the bald spot on his crown, ever-expanding, immutable, and I ask mum if he should be putting sun cream on it if he’s going to be sitting out there for so long. She pauses in her plate drying, gripping it so tight that I’m worried she might shatter it, before sighing and setting it on the workbench with a disregard that would have earned my seven-year-old self a stern reprimand. She closes her eyes for a…
3 Poems by Jonathan Lloyd
*Featured image courtesy of David Sinclair on Unsplash* Jonathan Lloyd joins us with captivating descriptions and a refreshing style that will keep you engaged through all three of his poems. The old man from Wales gyascutus picks his way through the bramble thorns on his way to pub. His knee bothers. The beer warm. The company chatty. The rain. The window–fogged. The old man walks home through the bramble across bogs, underneath bright spilled sky. The field a rimfull of misty heaven; the thorns’ lesson slumbers, all light, the window hindsight clear year on to yesteryear. There’s no word for snow in Inuit– that’s baloney. Must be fifty. Yet the Greeks did not have a word for word. And they wrote them alltogetherlikethis and then .sihtekilrehtegotlla The Germans just stick stuff together to make a…
“La Hacienda de Las Chismosas” by Rachel Gonzalez
*Featured image courtesy of Katsiaryna Endruszkiewicz on Unsplash* This week we are proud to present another piece by our Writer-in-Residence, Rachel Gonzalez. Rachel has put a lot of work into creating this story, and it has resulted in a truly beautiful piece of writing. They come to La Hacienda to ease their bodies and their minds. It’s a resplendent house of generations that will always stand. The burdened, the troubled, the mischievous, all come for the caring touch from the hands of the hacienda. With more importance and reverence than any state building or diplomat’s home, it is the beating heart of this town. A home to all, if even for a moment. Halls of brightly-tiled walls and dimly-lit ways for privacy and peace. Cobblestone paths meander and lead into the heart of the hacienda….