Hello Neighbour by Terry Chipp
Patriotten by Marcel Herms
Through the wall, through the looking glass, those on the other side
are a mystery, a mouthful of syllables, hard and obsidian, coal.
Their eyes mine us for what remains. There is nothing
besides endless blue
flecked with darker blue,
a lake in which we see ourselves as clear as we see
We touch the water and make ripples,
like those between countries,
invisible, ever present. Our histories
of ruler and ruled, colonizer
follow us around,
sit at the heads of our beds,
sleep at our feet,
tramp through our rooms
with muddy boots in the night.
I think of the guns. I open my mouth
and syllables fly out like bullets,
hard and cylindrical. The wall is a tear,
a tearful rending, a rent in the fabric
On the other side,
are those we left behind, lost, fled from, forgot, loved, looted, lauded
and loaded into carts to deposit in trenches. On the other side
are our neighbors, our friends, strangers, beloveds.
They stand and look at us,
their eyes like roses,
opening into a thousand black petals.
Prince Donald, it is all your fault.
Your kingdom is divided. Darkness
looms, taunting the Enlightenment.
Predacious Proud Boys hoist your
flag on streets and waterways,
playing soldiers. Orangist commissars
thwart the will of Patriots armed
with ballots. You will not win.
Corruption and nepotism will not
win, cannot beat back the will of
the People. Cannot beat back Reason
Or Science. Cannot confine Liberty.
Democracy and Tolerance march
on every street. The Constitution
beats as one heart. You have lost
and you will go. Orangism will be
synonymous with bigotry, injustice;
antithetical to America’s Dream,
Patriotism giving rise to Equality.
You have lost and you will go, voice
of the People ringing in your ears.
– Gayle J. Greenlea
-heard sounds again from the other side
Of the wall, sure it was neighbour’s D.I.Y
As I listened intently the noises migrated
From wall to ceiling to wall to floor
So not what I thought then something
Else entirely a spectre, a dream or a fancy?
“The Other Ophelia”
Not as pretty but
Still hurting, needs as much love
As Millais’ damsel
I read a story of three
Special treasures coveted
I think the hunters were convinced of their patriotism in acquiring the hoard
(I Speak, But You Do Not Listen)
We can’t get a straight answer
You are like a god to us
Our mission is to care for you
Even in ways you do not yet understand
We have to be patient
You are only three years old
The War of The Suburbs
I will the silence to take me.
The war rages on,
on the streets outside.
The war of the people;
the rich and the poor
lying bated and bloody
in some false image of pride.
I’ll leave here in the night-time.
With the woman and child on my back.
Through sinking streets
and past the suburbs
to where the beatniks
sat drowning in poems
they had written for themselves.
I am a traitor to the night –
the sound and the speech
drip from the faucet
she tells me that she’s lonely
whenever I am with her
and I know all that she is without me.
There is a war raging
on the streets outside;
through it – my voice is still.
There is something in the silence;
some type of surrender.
I wonder if she’ll notice –
if I make it out alive.
Maybe I just feel at home at the end of the world.
WE THE PEOPLE
We the plebians
do hunger and toil
under rain in soil,
in our names,
at our station. As
you fatten and prosper.
And all that you are,
you did it for us,
your very own
To our benefit, you
breakfast and dine
off the finest china.
Served by the
meek and menial.
Your sterling efforts
do not ever go
we the people,
inheritors of these lands.
for whose sake
you feast lavishly,
still remain comforted.
As you endure
the horrors of
You sacrifice, as we
-in our rank and file
await your pleasure.
And should you think
that this a joke
or a literary slight
it is happening
-© Dai Fry 12th November 2020
A crowd is not,
not like frogspawn or bee larvae,
elvers or gnats.
A crowd is people,
an agglutination of minds, thoughts, desires.
a crowd is individuals
with unique destinies,
sharing for a moment the same path.
A crowd is people,
eyes, tongues working,
wired up each to a different brain.
But sometimes, a crowd is not people
or even frogspawn,
it is a thing of cells, sharing the same desires,
of thoughts wired to a single brain,
eyes, mouths, tongues working blind and mute.
And then we,
who are not of the crowd,
A turn-of-the-century terrace with thin walls – we knew
our neighbours by their noises. On the left, the elderly man
raked a fire all year-round. Fell from cabs
and through the front door to have drunken fights with himself
On the right, she didn’t make much noise but we heard him
up with the skylark for earlies and blowing yesterday’s detritus
from his nasal passages loud as a foghorn. We wondered
what we sounded like, my burnt offerings setting of fire alarms,
his flatulence or are conversations on the bedroom sills,
windows wide open, legs dangling and roll ups jiggling in lips.
We decorated – peeled off layers of paper like dried onion skins.
Found a hole and plugged it with scrunched up Telegraph and Gripfill.
Smoothed over it with Polyfilla and sanded.
Bleu blanc et rouge
Sheepish grin masks gritted teeth.
Speak softly, carry a big stick.
fraternité and all.
In one hand, flame of freedom.
In the other, sword of enforcement.
Tough to be a patriot
with dreams of coronation.
-Holly York 2020
:: paper chase ::
hiding from the refuse collectors
down at the house
in the paper
it was his idea and he rammed
it all in the neighbouring bins
where he found room
said he will take the blame
if found out
all four crowd round discussing
the amount of waste
the number of stars
He said it was an accident
when he hammered
through the lounge wall.
But instead of bricking it up
he climbed right through,
sat next to me on the sofa
and helped himself
to my mug of coffee.
you are best, worst
behind the wall;
that ideal voice
yet grasping all
Bios and Links
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.
Facebook: Terry Chipp Fine Art Painting
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.
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/
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
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:
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
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.
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.
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.
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
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/
Instagram: Michael The Poet
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.
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.
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