Two poems by Timi Sanni w/ a Painting by Robert Frede Kenter

IceFloe Press

The Portrait of My Mother As an Antagonist of Death

Mother said in another world, I wasn’t born.
She said the road ate my father on his way
to a protest that never held in truth, because
he was a fire the wind put off before it could
reach the kindling of Aluta. I still imagine
what would have happened if malaikul mawt
had ridden his body of a soul that day 1,005
days before I came to be. But mother stood
staunch in the face of death as though her
body housed excess souls. She stood akimbo
by the door of his hospital ward so each time
death came visiting, it met the fierceness
of a woman at the door, saying: Not today

Mama

After reading O. A. Alhaytham Adedokun

somedays, i’m only a waning shadow / then i see
my world atop your head / like the crest…

View original post 225 more words

November Ekphrastic Challenge: Day 24

Jane Dougherty Writes

For Paul Brookes’ challenge, the prompt is They say that about the meek by Marcel Herms.

MH24 They say what about the meek, mixed media on canvas, 60 x 50 cm, 2019

Ask no questions, hear no lies.

No rest for the wicked, they say,
the devil makes work for idle hands
and takes the hindmost,
but God helps those who help themselves.

Let me have men about me that are fat.

And we, the meek and mild,
the children and their mothers,
the poor and the dispossessed,
the widow who handed over her mite,
we who wait on the side lines for
those promised crumbs from the rich man’s table?

You have a lean and hungry look.

Blessed are those, they reply,
who turn the other cheek,
so as not to see the blow fall
at the other side of the street.

The earth teems with the meek
with no voice, the four-footed,
the winged; all creep into the abyss
made for them by…

View original post 4 more words

Day Twenty-Fourth : Welcome to a special ekphrastic challenge for November. Artworks from Terry Chipp, Marcel Herms, MJ Saucer, P A Morbid, the inspiration for writers, Gaynor Kane, Peach Delphine, sonja benskin mesher, Anindita Sengupta, Liam Michael Stainsby, Sarah Connor, Sarah Reeson, Holly York, Jane Dougherty, Gayle J Greenlea, Susan Darlington, Lydia Wist, Dai Fry, and myself. November 24th.

Day 24

MjS 24 The Prison Farm
The Prison Farm by MJ Saucer
MH24 They say what about the meek, mixed media on canvas, 60 x 50 cm, 2019They say that about the meek by Marcel Herms

Inheritance

The meek rarely get credit
for acts of courage
They are the quiet ones
undetectable
like state of the art operating systems
They are the body’s spine
beating heart
poetry’s rhythm / rhyme
Living network of connection
Civil servants in a fierce election
count ballots on repeat
certify votes despite a despot’s tweets
persist under threat from vigilante partisans
in parking lots. Neither violence
nor virus deter the dignity
of guardians defending American democracy

— Gayle J. Greenlea

(They Say What About the Meek)

To say that the meek are losers is to bait the trap
Don’t fall for the trick
Go about your life how you wish

(The Prison Farm)

“Prison, Farm”

Today my scarecrow is looking very real
It’s been facing the wrong way since 3am
I won’t be reaping what’s mine, today

“An Appropriate Sentence”

A leader spent half a century; the country in deprivation
Riches reserved for the elite; not rightly human
Now set to work on a life sentence; no parole granted
Now picking crops to feed the people

-Lydia Wist

MjS 24
Prison Farm

They gave him a year for vagrancy,
same for her, at the prison farm
up state, neither one had ever been north
of the Myakka, they whipped him for sass
and sold his contract for turpentine,
working a still up above Tampa
for three years, till his body
was so broke they let him go,
thinkin he’d die probly, but she waited
on that patch up above the Withlacoochee
growing cowpeas, greens and okra,
he said they mostly lived
off catfish and hominy,
she never went to town again,
him neither.

MH24
They say what about the meek

The mice were never blind
not after what passed
between cat and rat,
it took three to steal
the boning knife,
they went after the cat
napping by the stove,
but he slipped out the door,
now they lurk
behind stove wood,
three mice and a blade,
they were never blind,
it’s just what the cat said
after they did
for the Farmer’s wife.

-Peach Delphine

What They Say in Prison

Penance served
sepia meals;
congregations
vegetation
each one the same,
trapped, in times

-Sarah Reeson

.day 24.

porcupine ::

seven in a row all dead
is a real disaster
i like the white ones on farms
that hiss if one approaches near
we are liking birds to stay alive yet
sadly this is not so

if I say I went away
some think that this means
prison
those in america

conversation moved on to
pumpkins, these days,
&
noises made by porcupines

there is a chattering nearby
listen

.sbm.

Pride

Some will inherit the earth’s
forward swirl, rainbow banners,
finely muscled men of many
hues dancing in scant costumes
on flatbed trucks, balloons!
Rolling joy and noise,
girls and boys
streamers and wings
women sing, peacock fans
wave from each hand
and everywhere balloons!
Others inhabit
windows, faces hidden
in secret witness.

-Holly York

Ask no questions, hear no lies.

No rest for the wicked, they say,
the devil makes work for idle hands,
he takes the hindmost,
and God helps those who help themselves.

Let me have men about me that are fat.

And we, the meek and mild,
the children and their mothers,
the poor and the dispossessed,
the widow who handed over her mite,
we who wait on the side lines for
those promised crumbs from the rich man’s table?

You have a lean and hungry look.

Blessed are those, they reply,
who turned the other cheek,
so as not to see the blow fall
at the other side of the street.

The earth teems with the meek
with no voice, the four-footed,
the winged; all creep into the abyss
made for them by the fat and sleek.

-Jane Dougherty

INHERITANCE

And the meek
shall inherit the earth.
Once probate has cleared
and taxes are paid
and the plastic
is tidied away.

The thermostat
must be lowered now
and the squatters, sent
on their way.

Mum and Dad
may be gone for good,
but their mess is
here to stay.

© Dai Fry 23rd November 20

 

Bios and Links

-Terry Chipp

grew up in Thurnscoe and ia now living in Doncaster via Wath Grammar school, Doncaster Art College, Bede College in Durham and 30 years teaching.

He sold his first painting at the Goldthorpe Welfare Hall annual exhibition at the age of 17 and he haven’t stopped painting since.

He escaped the classroom 20 years ago to devote more time to his artwork.  Since then he has set up his own studio in Doncaster, exhibited across the north of England as a member of the Leeds Fine Artists group and had his painting demonstrations featured on the SAA’s Painting and drawing TV channel.  Further afield he has accepted invitations to work with international artists’ groups in Spain, Macedonia, Montenegro and USA where his paintings are held in public and private collections. In 2018 he had a solo exhibition in Warsaw, Poland and a joint exhibition in Germany.

His pictures cover a wide range of styles and subjects from abstract to photo-realism though he frequently returns to his main loves of landscape and people.

Visitors are welcome at his studio in the old Art College on Church View, Doncaster.

e-mail:  terry@terrychipp.co.uk

Facebook:  Terry Chipp Fine Art Painting

Instagram: @chippko.art

-Marcel Herms

is a Dutch visual artist. He is also one of the two men behind the publishing house Petrichor. Freedom is very important in the visual work of Marcel Herms. In his paintings he can express who he really is in complete freedom. Without the social barriers of everyday life.
There is a strong relationship with music. Like music, Herms’ art is about autonomy, freedom, passion, color and rhythm. You can hear the rhythm of the colors, the rhythm of the brushstrokes, the raging cry of the pencil, the subtle melody of a collage. The figures in his paintings rotate around you in shock, they are heavily abstracted, making it unclear what they are doing. Sometimes they look like people, monsters, children or animals, or something in between. Sometimes they disappear to be replaced immediately or to take on a different guise. The paintings invite the viewer to join this journey. Free-spirited.

He collaborates with many different authors, poets, visual artists and audio artists from around the world and his work is published by many different publishers.

www.marcelherms.nl

www.uitgeverijpetrichor.nl

-Jane Dougherty

writes novels, short stories and lots of poems. Among her publications is her first chapbook of poetry, thicker than water. She is also a regular contributor to Visual Verse and the Ekphrastic Review. You can find her on twitter @MJDougherty33 and on her blog https://janedougherty.wordpress.com/

-Peach Delphine

is a queer poet from Tampa, Florida. Infatuated with what remains of the undeveloped Gulf coast. Former cook. Has had poems in Cypress Press, Feral Poetry, IceFloe Press, Petrichor. Can be found on Twitter@Peach Delphine

-Dai Fry

is a poet living on the south coast of England. Originally from Swansea. Wales was and still is a huge influence on everything. My pen is my brush. Twitter:  

@thnargg

Web: http://seekingthedarklight.co.uk

-Susan Darlington

Susan Darlington’s poetry regularly explores the female experience through nature-based symbolism and stories of transformation. It has been published in Fragmented Voices, Algebra Of Owls, Dreams Walking, and Anti-Heroin Chic among others. Her debut collection, ‘Under The Devil’s Moon’, was published by Penniless Press Publications (2015). Follow her @S_sanDarlington    

-Holly York

lives in Atlanta, Georgia with her two large, frightening lapdogs. A PhD in French language and literature, she has retired from teaching French to university students, as well as from fierce competition in martial arts and distance running. She has produced the chapbooks Backwards Through the Rekroy Wen, Scapes, and Postcard Poetry 2020. When she isn’t hard at work writing poems in English, she might be found reading them in French to her long-suffering grandchildren, who don’t yet speak French.

-Gayle J. Greenlea

is an award-winning poet and counselor for survivors of sexual and gender-related violence. Her poem, “Wonderland”, received the Australian Poetry Prod Award in 2011. She shortlisted and longlisted for the Fish Poetry Prize in 2013, and debuted her first novel Zero Gravity at the KGB Literary Bar in Manhattan in 2016. Her work has been published in St. Julian Press, Rebelle Society, A Time to Speak, Astronomy Magazine, Headline Poetry and Press and The Australian Health Review.

-Lydia Wist

Like someone who tries out hats or other samples before making a final decision, experimenting with different ideas and techniques is how Lydia spends some of her time. This allows for other portions of time to speak through the lens of fiction, creative nonfiction and art. You can find her work at Cargo Collective , Lydia Wist Creative and on Twitter @Lydiawist.

Website links:

https://cargocollective.com/lydiawist

https://www.facebook.com/lydiawistcreative/

-Sarah Connor

lives in the wild, wet, south-west of England, surrounded by mud and apple trees. She writes poems to make sense of the world, and would rather weed than wash up.

-sonja benskin mesher

-Liam Stainsby

holds a bachelor in English Literature and Creative Writing and is a secondary school teacher of English and Creative Writing. Liam is currently writing his first, professional collection of poetry entitled Borders that explores poetry from all around the world. Liam also Co-Hosts a movie discussion podcast entitled: The Pick and Mix Podcast. Liam writes under the pseudonym ‘Michael The Poet’ 

Links: WordPress: https://michael-the-poet.com/

Twitter: stainsby_liam

Instagram: Michael The Poet

-Sarah Reeson

is 54, married and a mother of two, who has been writing and telling stories since childhood. Over the last decade she has utilised writing not just as entertainment, but as a means to improve personal communication skills. That process unexpectedly uncovered increasingly difficult and unpleasant feelings, many forgotten for decades. Diagnosed as a historic trauma survivor in May 2019, Mental health issues had previously hindered the entirety of her adult life: the shift into writing as expression and part of a larger journey into self-awareness began to slowly unwind for her from the past, providing inspiration and focus for a late career change as a multidisciplined artist.

Website: http://internetofwords.com

-Gaynor Kane

is a Northern Irish poet from Belfast. She has two poetry pamphlets, and a full collection, from Hedgehog Poetry Press, they are Circling the Sun, Memory Forest and Venus in pink marble (2018, 2019 and Summer 2020 respectively). She is co-author, along with Karen Mooney, of Penned In a poetry pamphlet written in response to the pandemic and due for release 30th November 2020.  Follow her on Twitter @gaynorkane or read more at www.gaynorkane.com.

Anindita Sengupta

is the author of Walk Like Monsters (Paperwall, 2016) and City of Water (Sahitya Akademi, 2010). Her work has appeared in anthologies and journals such as Plume, 580 Split, One and Breakwater Review. She is Contributing Editor, Poetry, at Barren Magazine. She has received fellowships and awards from the Charles Wallace Trust India, the International Reporting Project, TFA India and Muse India. She currently lives in Los Angeles, California. Her website is http://aninditasengupta.com 

Two Poems By Rhienna Renèe Guedry

IceFloe Press

Open Up And Say … Ahh!

Boys that looked like girls: a warning, that’s
what churchy all-beige mothers in Baton Rouge
cautioned us about … the gateway to sin. Listen,
my mother was the one who threw away her Alice
Cooper record … you know, the one with the white
panties as the record sleeve? She claimed, after giving
birth to me, that doing so was a precaution, though it wasn’t
for God, it was to keep things simple; to please her own mother
who thought it unfitting for motherhood. Too much makeup and
too scary, she fussed as if her daughter wasn’t grown. Still, my mother
had strangeness of her own. She gushed over Boy George and admired the
beauty of Annie Lennox; in her own way, she was drawn to the androgyny of
new wave. A voyeur of experiences; she wanted to smell but not touch a life

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Threnody – A poem and Three Photo Works by Martins Deep

IceFloe Press

Threnody

the owl in the cave of father’s mouth warned        /but we heed it not, did we?
until a tarantula climbed up
for the sun where it hung      /over our kraal, & ate it like a firefly trapped in its web
its fluttering lamp left to quench on the last note of a sad song.

how you were torn open, & hurriedly
like a parcel, brother — a christmas present;
a music box of mother’s anguish/your throes/our household’s silence.

tastebuds grown on the rim of their eardrums —
offsprings of the underworld we never stop cursing
whose diet is the scream of a man that knots broken bonds.

at the scene, my heart beating fast was your footfalls leaving your body behind
for mother to weep formaldehyde on it.
but she was held back. so, you must
slowly fade into a memory
vanishing with the steam from her pot of…

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Light-Fall by Lucy Ingrams (Flarestack Poets)

Tears in the Fence

Lucy Ingrams poems inTears in the Fence 72impressed readers with their slowed down attentiveness to the moment and invigorating language use. I was thus thrilled to discover herLight-Fallpamphlet from 2019 and to find more of her mindful poetry.

The opening poem, ‘Swimmer’, where the title is the last two words, with ‘fall’ occupying the last line alone, is worth the price of the pamphlet alone.

The poem, like the best of Ingrams work, recalls the poetry of Lee Harwood and Elizabeth Bishop and yet is distinctly her own. This emerges through her confident use of space, lineation and punctuation. Note her use of brackets, hyphens, space and counter voice, within a sonically rich low pitched delivery.The poem, written in the living present, in the manner of Harwood’s sea poems, such as ‘Salt Water’, slows the reader’s attention down to each modulated movement within a wide-eyed focus…

View original post 387 more words

November Ekphrastic Challenge: Day 23

Jane Dougherty Writes

The painting for Paul Brookes’ challenge I have chosen is Ponton de pêche by Terry Chipp.

TC23 Ponton de peche

Ambitions

They wade out from the river bank,
picturesque cabanes, gaily painted,
unheated dens, their little boys’ forts
with drawbridge against invaders and
private notices stuck on the track.

They perch above the floodwaters,
squat herons,
fisher kings of the water,
trawling the mud for catfish
and other bottom feeders.

Sheds on stilts, worth more
than city centre stone
to those who would be gods,
enthroned,
the river at their feet.

View original post

Day Twenty-Third : Welcome to a special ekphrastic challenge for November. Artworks from Terry Chipp, Marcel Herms, MJ Saucer, P A Morbid, the inspiration for writers, Gaynor Kane, Peach Delphine, Sally O’Dowd, sonja benskin mesher, Anindita Sengupta, Liam Michael Stainsby, Sarah Connor, Sarah Reeson, Holly York, Jane Dougherty, Gayle J Greenlea, Susan Darlington, Lydia Wist, Dai Fry, and myself. November 23rd.

Day 23

TC23 Ponton de peche
Ponton de peche by Terry Chipp
MH23 Scheming, mixed media on paper, 20,6 x 24,7 cm, 2020

Scheming by Marcel Herms

MH23
Scheming

Reduced to fog and blur
words of malice
dissolving eye color, the mouth
droops with the weight
of so much poison, eventually
skin and flesh slough away,
bone, sun bleached,
is all that remains,
a few teeth,
echoes of plots
in a hollow
reliquary

TC23
Ponton de peche

Blue of sea, blue of sky
long legged, stilts, the place
above those below,
a thicker atmosphere,
the unwary are harvested,
scaled, consumed,
on a pleasant day
we could live here,
sleeping, cooking, watching
the pelicans scout bait fish,
blue of tongue, blue of eye
sunrise reveals
shore has not receded
waves still strain
at the fetch
no word can contain.

-Peach Delphine

(Scheming)

“Separate Days at The Abandoned Building”

The back of old schematics: good as any scrap to dither over twenty-first century plans

A home for all types of creatures; openly inviting

The couple believe there is life in the old girl yet

(Ponton de Peche)

“Selfie Time”

Ultimate extreme photo opportunity!
Guess how much it costs

“At the Edge”

It’s quiet here at least
Devoid of distractions
Irking manifestations will climb
Failing, they slide slow motion into nothing
The edge of the world isn’t so bad

-Lydia Wist

SCHEMING ALONE

I used to scheme with others
under railway bridges
and in rusty sidings.
Our words were sharp-edged
and intended to wound.

After a series of leaks
I now scheme alone,
in a sky hut where:
I fish the lonely clouds
for rumour and innuendo.

Someone is spilling the beans.
It may be me, I can’t be sure.
But there are definitely some sauce
stains on my orange jumper.

© Dai Fry 22nd November 2020.

Scheming

Let’s move something big
Let’s be shocking
Let’s pull the moon from its orbit
and dance around its fire in Central Park

Let’s make waves in the Amazon
with a Triceratops
and trace a giant Pentangle
in the stars

Let’s be outrageous
and use the Big Dipper
to scoop up Cherry Garcia
and dress each other in fireflies

— Gayle J. Greenlea

Ambitions

They wade out from the river bank,
picturesque cabanes, gaily painted,
unheated dens, their little boys’ forts
with drawbridge against invaders and
private notices stuck on the track.

They perch above the floodwaters,
squat herons,
fisher kings of the water,
trawling the mud for catfish
and other bottom feeders.

Sheds on stilts, worth more
than city centre stone
to those who would be gods,
enthroned,
the river at their feet.

-Jane Dougherty

Scheming

What to do next? Give me your hand.
Together we’ll figure it out.
Play the hand we’re dealt,
cards on the table.
But don’t tip our hand.
Play close to the vest.
It’s all here in black and white
for us to take in hand, to set right.

-Holly York 2020

:: echo ::

do you know the dark corner
behind damask
where music plays?

do you know why the tree died
why the paint smudged?

some know and remember the years
less for some than others

some paint tidy all realism while
others paint a different way

i know why the tree died . i do

i know that the stove ticks when lit

..sbm..

.Scheming Prison

The Blue hour
starts argument:
quiet contemplation
segregated;
each lost catch
jointly bemoaned

-Sarah Reeson

Bios and Links

-Terry Chipp

grew up in Thurnscoe and ia now living in Doncaster via Wath Grammar school, Doncaster Art College, Bede College in Durham and 30 years teaching.

He sold his first painting at the Goldthorpe Welfare Hall annual exhibition at the age of 17 and he haven’t stopped painting since.

He escaped the classroom 20 years ago to devote more time to his artwork.  Since then he has set up his own studio in Doncaster, exhibited across the north of England as a member of the Leeds Fine Artists group and had his painting demonstrations featured on the SAA’s Painting and drawing TV channel.  Further afield he has accepted invitations to work with international artists’ groups in Spain, Macedonia, Montenegro and USA where his paintings are held in public and private collections. In 2018 he had a solo exhibition in Warsaw, Poland and a joint exhibition in Germany.

His pictures cover a wide range of styles and subjects from abstract to photo-realism though he frequently returns to his main loves of landscape and people.

Visitors are welcome at his studio in the old Art College on Church View, Doncaster.

e-mail:  terry@terrychipp.co.uk

Facebook:  Terry Chipp Fine Art Painting

Instagram: @chippko.art

-Marcel Herms

is a Dutch visual artist. He is also one of the two men behind the publishing house Petrichor. Freedom is very important in the visual work of Marcel Herms. In his paintings he can express who he really is in complete freedom. Without the social barriers of everyday life.
There is a strong relationship with music. Like music, Herms’ art is about autonomy, freedom, passion, color and rhythm. You can hear the rhythm of the colors, the rhythm of the brushstrokes, the raging cry of the pencil, the subtle melody of a collage. The figures in his paintings rotate around you in shock, they are heavily abstracted, making it unclear what they are doing. Sometimes they look like people, monsters, children or animals, or something in between. Sometimes they disappear to be replaced immediately or to take on a different guise. The paintings invite the viewer to join this journey. Free-spirited.

He collaborates with many different authors, poets, visual artists and audio artists from around the world and his work is published by many different publishers.

www.marcelherms.nl

www.uitgeverijpetrichor.nl

-Jane Dougherty

writes novels, short stories and lots of poems. Among her publications is her first chapbook of poetry, thicker than water. She is also a regular contributor to Visual Verse and the Ekphrastic Review. You can find her on twitter @MJDougherty33 and on her blog https://janedougherty.wordpress.com/

-Peach Delphine

is a queer poet from Tampa, Florida. Infatuated with what remains of the undeveloped Gulf coast. Former cook. Has had poems in Cypress Press, Feral Poetry, IceFloe Press, Petrichor. Can be found on Twitter@Peach Delphine

-Dai Fry

is a poet living on the south coast of England. Originally from Swansea. Wales was and still is a huge influence on everything. My pen is my brush. Twitter:  

@thnargg

Web: http://seekingthedarklight.co.uk

-Susan Darlington

Susan Darlington’s poetry regularly explores the female experience through nature-based symbolism and stories of transformation. It has been published in Fragmented Voices, Algebra Of Owls, Dreams Walking, and Anti-Heroin Chic among others. Her debut collection, ‘Under The Devil’s Moon’, was published by Penniless Press Publications (2015). Follow her @S_sanDarlington    

-Holly York

lives in Atlanta, Georgia with her two large, frightening lapdogs. A PhD in French language and literature, she has retired from teaching French to university students, as well as from fierce competition in martial arts and distance running. She has produced the chapbooks Backwards Through the Rekroy Wen, Scapes, and Postcard Poetry 2020. When she isn’t hard at work writing poems in English, she might be found reading them in French to her long-suffering grandchildren, who don’t yet speak French.

-Gayle J. Greenlea

is an award-winning poet and counselor for survivors of sexual and gender-related violence. Her poem, “Wonderland”, received the Australian Poetry Prod Award in 2011. She shortlisted and longlisted for the Fish Poetry Prize in 2013, and debuted her first novel Zero Gravity at the KGB Literary Bar in Manhattan in 2016. Her work has been published in St. Julian Press, Rebelle Society, A Time to Speak, Astronomy Magazine, Headline Poetry and Press and The Australian Health Review.

-Helen Allison

lives in the North East of Scotland. Her first poetry collection ‘ Tree standing small’ was published in 2018 with Clochoderick Press. Her work has appeared in journals and magazines in print and online and she is working towards a second collection.

-Lydia Wist

Like someone who tries out hats or other samples before making a final decision, experimenting with different ideas and techniques is how Lydia spends some of her time. This allows for other portions of time to speak through the lens of fiction, creative nonfiction and art. You can find her work at Cargo Collective , Lydia Wist Creative and on Twitter @Lydiawist.

Website links:

https://cargocollective.com/lydiawist

https://www.facebook.com/lydiawistcreative/

-Sarah Connor

lives in the wild, wet, south-west of England, surrounded by mud and apple trees. She writes poems to make sense of the world, and would rather weed than wash up.

-sonja benskin mesher

-Liam Stainsby

holds a bachelor in English Literature and Creative Writing and is a secondary school teacher of English and Creative Writing. Liam is currently writing his first, professional collection of poetry entitled Borders that explores poetry from all around the world. Liam also Co-Hosts a movie discussion podcast entitled: The Pick and Mix Podcast. Liam writes under the pseudonym ‘Michael The Poet’ 

Links: WordPress: https://michael-the-poet.com/

Twitter: stainsby_liam

Instagram: Michael The Poet

-Sarah Reeson

is 54, married and a mother of two, who has been writing and telling stories since childhood. Over the last decade she has utilised writing not just as entertainment, but as a means to improve personal communication skills. That process unexpectedly uncovered increasingly difficult and unpleasant feelings, many forgotten for decades. Diagnosed as a historic trauma survivor in May 2019, Mental health issues had previously hindered the entirety of her adult life: the shift into writing as expression and part of a larger journey into self-awareness began to slowly unwind for her from the past, providing inspiration and focus for a late career change as a multidisciplined artist.

Website: http://internetofwords.com

-Gaynor Kane

is a Northern Irish poet from Belfast. She has two poetry pamphlets, and a full collection, from Hedgehog Poetry Press, they are Circling the Sun, Memory Forest and Venus in pink marble (2018, 2019 and Summer 2020 respectively). She is co-author, along with Karen Mooney, of Penned In a poetry pamphlet written in response to the pandemic and due for release 30th November 2020.  Follow her on Twitter @gaynorkane or read more at www.gaynorkane.com.

Anindita Sengupta

is the author of Walk Like Monsters (Paperwall, 2016) and City of Water (Sahitya Akademi, 2010). Her work has appeared in anthologies and journals such as Plume, 580 Split, One and Breakwater Review. She is Contributing Editor, Poetry, at Barren Magazine. She has received fellowships and awards from the Charles Wallace Trust India, the International Reporting Project, TFA India and Muse India. She currently lives in Los Angeles, California. Her website is http://aninditasengupta.com 

A poem by Charlotte Oliver with a photograph by Robynne Limoges

IceFloe Press

Nut, Mayan Goddess of the Sky

Back curves and bleeds
mood-colour to the sky’s edge
each morning she swallows down
the face of night
heart heaving bears
hot orb of light
to bring hope bright
a gossamer blessing
draped across the people
fades with passing hours
until the deep lace of night
swaddles tight
torn white
by moonbirth
and with velvet star-flecked breath
whispers to Her shining child
a lullaby of silver-haloed clouds.


CharlotteOliveris a freelance writer who lives by the sea in Scarborough, England. She was the commissioned poet for BBC Radio York’s Make a Difference campaign and has work published or forthcoming forPendemic, One Hand ClappingandNot4UCollective’sPoems from Home. Tweets: Charlotte Oliver (@CharlotteOlivr) / Twitter Website: http://www.charlotteoliver.com.

Banner: Untitled, an image (c) Robynne Limoges.

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