My National Poetry Month challenge to myself has become a collaboration between synaesthetic artist Sammy-John, myself, Anjum Wasim Dar and Jay Gandhi: Day Nineteen: The Untitled

Untitled Oil


Untitled Haiku

For one dirham I
bought a cheongsam, for
journey to Siam

Map showed a whirlpool
bounded by reddish bushes,
crocodile in it,

I held the gisarme,
read lines by poet Khayyam,
sat in a wigwam,

Once on Siam land
wore cheongsam, with gisarme
cut the crocodile.

2019 © CER     Anjum Wasim Dar


There is a point in the painting
where all the colours gel

I asked my counsellor the difference
between like and love—
if you like a flower, you pluck it
and if you love it, you don’t

Now that’s simple!

The day when you confided
in me that your mother has
Paranoid Schizophrenia
No questions asked.

Well, actually,
is there a point where you
can dislodge a flower out of its
pluck it and yet not pluck it?

By Jay Gandhi

No More Fetch

you here,
Fetch you home.

Fetch my lips to thine.
Fetch my arse to this.

Fetch you dinner.
Fetch you a snog.

Fetch your groceries.
Fetch your washing and ironing.

Fetch your slippers
Fetch my social to your wallet.

Fetch my hand up to stop thy fist.
Fetch your belongings in a black bag.

Fetch your gob and its mouthful.
Fetch mesen to thy want.

2019 Paul Brookes

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