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Poem

THE BOOK OF CHURL I Churl stamps through the swamp. Wet scowl, muddy shins, leather sandals chafing. Bile. He eyes the shaggy blacksmith’s wife but she will not, will not have him. So he stomps back to the kine, who

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Poem — Tim Upperton

The Bare Hook Don’t ask what this is all about. At the end of the row, you start over. The way in is the way out. From Toulouse, France, you wrote what you say to hush each new lover: Don’t

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Poem — Nick Ascroft

Five Limericks on Grief When I see a young boy and his dad, I’m brought back to the one that I had. They seem charged, holographic. Then I lose them in traffic, and it leaves me reflective and sad. There

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Poem — Leonard Lambert

Hinterland   What lands lie east of here? North and south are known, and west, but to the east, to my left, the country folds in upon itself and falls away, rising in the near distance to a long tableland.

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Poem — C K Stead

A matter of time When I was young it was C.P. Snow averred anyone who did not know the Second Law of Thermodynamics was uneducated. ‘Two Cultures’ was his bag and what he wanted was scientists reading poems, Arts chaps

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Poem — Fiona Kidman

Grass Street 2000-2015

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Poem — Siobhan Harvey

Cloudboy Sees the Sky Break

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Poem — Jan FitzGerald

The joy gatherers

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Poem — Marty Smith

I am all saliva and static before the big race. I secretly want to be the horse; the jaw   and the strange elemental eye. The sun along my long muscles. I will be good; I will be good.  

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Poem — Emma Neale

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