You can see the artworks that inspired this san san for Paul Brookes’ April poetry challenge here, and read all the poetry that came out of them.
Green grow the ashes
Green grew high then golden faced,
scratched black with eyebrow-arching crows,
a glitter in the blue then screaming red.
The scattered gold, infertile waste,
where only twisted shrapnel grows,
red-bloomed black mouths O in surprise.
Tears glint among the ashes; dead
the hope that Firebird might rise.
Day Twenty-Eighth
-Gaynor Kane – St. John’s Lighthouse
-John Phandal Law
-Anjum Wasim Dar – Politics
It Could Be Us
To AWD-28 Politics
I make signs pronouncing compassion, kindness,
unity with hearts dressed in colors for Ukraine.
Viktoriia’s sign,
“Children are not Nazies!”
We stand on a busy corner daily at 5:00pm. Her baby
naps in a carrier
against a warm bosom
as Putin bombs schools
and soldiers massacre mothers
with newborns.
Honking cars respond with loud wails. People pull over
to get free signs.
Stop Russia!
Save Ukraine!
Viktoriia calls her family there daily.
Another Ukrainian friend
hasn’t heard from her relatives
for weeks now.
“We’re hoping
it’s just that
the internet is down.”
But in Mariupol –
mass graves.
Another friend’s elderly father
who has Parkinson’s
is nearly abandoned
as helpers have fled.
She’s on the phone daily
pleading for others
to aid this man in his nineties. Get him his meds.
Some food.
Across the street from our crowd in blue and yellow
stands a bearded man
as old as war
holding his hunched-over sign, “Save Palestine.”
I can see through him
to his dissolving joints. We wave
as he teeters off, still
seeking recovery.
-Barbara Leonhard
AWD28 – Politics
once I thought it was
something to do with being
diplomatic, democratic and
acting in the best interest of
everyone, so all
that really used to bother
me about becoming one
of them and rising to the
top of their power-heap
was the thought of
occasions that may arise –
part of the job of course –
to determine some have
to sacrifice their lives on
my orders,
my stroke of the
pen/ I used to pity a leader
placed in such an invidious
situation – sad now to know
better
-Peter A.
Day 28 AWD & JPL
Seeds into soil; last year’s harvest grew ripe
and golden in fields.
What new thing grows when shells
are sown? The rich dust is buried.
Truth must push up, fertile as sunflowers.
-Lesley James
GK28 St Johns Lighthouse
A finger to the heavens, thrust
against mares-tail clouds, flat sky.
Neutered by daylight, its garish
shape is a hackneyed seaside trope.
When dusk crawls on its stone
face, a single rotating eye
blasts light seawards, makes
sense of mariners’ darkness.
-Lesley Curwen
Countryside—a tanka (AWD28 + JPL28)
Their field groans clover
and headstones. We seed the land
with cluster bombs, hustle grief,
feed rage. Cellar promises
till the people cry enough.
—Lynne Jensen Lampe
Ukraine
after Miguel Hernandez
We come from the earth;
lands of wheat, from the same milk.
Sun and air, flowers that laugh
at the gently falling snow.
And we will fight now, fists
clenched and blood in our throats.
And to the earth we will return.
-Tim Fellows
Languages (GK28)
the stars, the moon whisper
instructions I cannot hear
tides tell tales
I have not yet deciphered
even the solid earth offers
particulate instruction, unheeded
I confess my ignorance
the world is speaking and I am straining to understand
yet I understand this:
you stretch out a high alert.
Your light betrays threat –
you sing us away in silent eloquence
-Vicky Allen
The Hurricane Called Life (GK28)
I’m lost
In the brutal storm
Of life
The winds
Are tearing me
Apart
The darkness
Seeps deep into
My soul
Raindrops
Slash at my face
They taste
Like blood
I’m drifting
Endlessly, hopelessly
I’m drowning
In fear, in anguish
A flash of light
Draws my eyes
There, in the distance
A lighthouse
Standing firm against
The onslaught of the towering
Black waves
This beacon
An angel in disguise
Summons, calls
Me towards it
‘Tis all I needed
To hold on
‘till I reach those
Glorious white shores
-Carrie Ann Golden
28. [Politics ADW28]
Helicoptered in,
your politics
are just a way to say ‘no’.
Let us cling to our denial,
each in our own way,
of what the other people say.
It’s not as if any of us
is floating off the ground,
has no ground beneath our backs.
Except, that helicopter,
buzz buzz buzz above your head,
keeping you safe from the spinning ground.
-Math Jones
The Result (Inspired by AWD, “Politics”)
With alligator smiles
they dazzled, dangling
the promise of freedom
on the tips of their sharp teeth
but the monstrous jaws snapped,
cities, trees, people fell
fertilizing the ground with blood–
no flowers bloomed,
no bird sang at dawn,
only death awakened this spring,
-Merril D. Smith
Hayfever
after JPL28
As we drive past pantone colour charts
full of sheep or polytunnels
I’ll ask city-boy questions
and my wife smiles, and tells me things
like “that’s not hay, it’s straw”
or “that’s not straw, it’s hay”.
And she knows that I’ll never
remember the difference between
one set of yellowing grave stones
and another, like she has to remind me
to take my non-drowsy Loratadine
or I’ll ruin a nice day out
with husked sneezing, sugar beet eyes,
and a scrambling vetched headache.
– Jamie Woods
Green grow the ashes (inspired by John Phandal Law and Anjum Wasim Dar)
Green grew high then golden faced,
scratched black with eyebrow-arching crows,
a glitter in the blue then screaming red.
The scattered gold, infertile waste,
where only twisted shrapnel grows,
red-bloomed black mouths O in surprise.
Tears glint among the ashes; dead
the hope that Firebird might rise.
-Jane Dougherty
Bios And Links
-John Phandal Law
is 68. Lives in Mexborough. Retired teacher. Artist; musician; poet. Recently included in ‘Viral Verses‘ poetry volume. Married. 2 kids; 3 grandkids
-Gaynor Kane
Gaynor Kane lives in Belfast, Northern Ireland, where she is a part-time creative, involved in the local arts scene. She writes poetry and is an amateur artist and photographer. In all her creative activities she is looking to capture moments that might otherwise be missed. Discover more at gaynorkane.com
Twitter @gaynorkane
Facebook @gaynorkanepoet
Instagram @gaynorkanepoet
-Anjum Wasim Dar
started drawing at St Anne’s Presentation Convent High School, Rawalpindi.
Drawing was taught as a Core subject from Kindergarten.
Anjum learnt the skill of Still Life, Sketching, Landscape Drawing, Coloring and Shading She recalled the scented wax crayons and black paper sketch books vividly.
Subject of Fine Arts at Intermediate level at Govt.College for Women Rawalpindi, was stopped by the Indo Pak War of 1965. Anjum continued her passion for art privately.
Her job as a Teacher Instructor allowed her to pursue Art work designing and preparing Thematic Bulletin Boards and Low cost teaching Aids with the Fauji Foundation Teacher’s Training Institute Rawalpindi. www.faujifoundation.org.
This won her the National Education Award 1998.
Completing a Course in Graphic Designing at NICON Academy Rawalpindi , Anjum began working as a Digital Artist, On Line, registered her Own Firm CER Creative Education Resources 2004 and is a Member of DRN Drawing Research Network UK and www.bigdraw.org.uk
https://www.lboro.ac.uk/research/tracey/drn/
https://sites.google.com/site/cerprofessionaldevelopment/
With her artistic skills she plans and conducts “Environment Awareness Workshops for Children” and is a member of www.unep.org and www.earthday.org
CER Participated in World Environment Day and Earth Day Programs 2011-2013
“Face of Climate Change”
Anjum loves Nature, landscapes and abstract imagery. Works with pencils, crayons and the Software ArtRage 2.0 and MyPaint.
Anjum Wasim Dar’s Art Portfolio can be accessed here:
https://www.artwanted.com/anjuartwriter/gallery/
-Merril D. Smith
lives in southern New Jersey near the Delaware River. Her poetry has been published in several poetry journals and anthologies, including Black Bough Poetry, Anti-Heroin Chic, Fevers of the Mind, and Nightingale and Sparrow. Her first full-length poetry collection, River Ghosts, is forthcoming from Nightingale & Sparrow Press. Twitter: @merril_mds Instagram: mdsmithnj Website/blog: merrildsmith.com
-Lesley James(she/her)
is a teacher and writer. She was shortlisted for Love Reading UK’s 2022 Very Short Story Award. Featured flash can be found in The Broken Spine, FullHouseLitMag and RoiFaineant. Kathryn O’Driscoll selected her poem Empty for Full House’s 2021 mental health live reading and forthcoming podcast. Brian Moses, The Dirigible Balloon and Parakeet Magazine have published some of her writing for children.
-Lynne Jensen Lampe
has poems in or forthcoming from Figure 1, Olney Magazine, Yemassee, Moist Poetry Journal, and elsewhere. Also to come is her chapbook Talk Smack to a Hurricane (Ice Floe Press, 2022) about mothers, daughters, and mental illness. She was a 2020 Red Wheelbarrow Poetry Prize finalist. Born in Newfoundland and raised in the Deep South, she lives in mid-Missouri where she edits academic books and journals. Visit her at https://lynnejensenlampe.com. Twitter: @LJensenLampe.
work appears in various online and print publications. She earned both third place and honorary mention for two poems in Well Versed 2021. She is currently writing her first poetry collection about her relationship with her mother, who suffered from Alzheimer’s. From that memoir collection, her poem “Marie Kindo Cleans My Purse at Starbucks” was voted Spillwords Publication of the Month of January and February 2022. Barbara was also voted Spillwords Author of the Month of October 2021 and recognized as a Spillwords Socialite of the Year in 2021. You can follow her on WordPress at https://www.extraordinarysunshineweaver.blog.
-Math Jones
is London-born, but is now based in Oxford. He has two books published: Sabrina Bridge, a poetry collection, from Black Pear Press (2017), and The Knotsman, a collection of verse, rhyme, prose and poetic monologue, which tell of the life and times of a C17th cunning-man. Much of his verse comes out of mythology and folklore: encounters with the uncanny and unseen. Also, as words written for Pagan ritual or as praise poems for a multitude of goddesses and gods. He is a trained actor and performs his poems widely.
-Caroline Johnstone
is an author and poet from Northern Ireland now living in Scotland. She has been published widely including Poetry Scotland, The Blue Nib and Marble Poetry. She loves spending time with her grandchildren, curling up with a good book and champagne or cocktails in no particular order.
-Lesley Curwen
is a poet and sailor living in Plymouth. She often writes about loss, rescues and the sea.
Her work has been published in anthologies from Arachne Press, Nine Pens, Quay Words, Slate, snakeskin, and soon by BrokenSpine and Broken Sleep.
Her poetic relationship with sound has been helped by her work as a BBC broadcaster, editing words on screen.
-Carrie Ann Golden
is from the mystical Adirondack Mountains now living on a farmstead in the Red River Valley of North Dakota (USA). She writes dark fiction and poetry. A Deafblind, her work has been published in places such as GFT Press, Doll Hospital Journal, The Hungry Chimera, Asylum Ink, Piker Press, Edify Fiction and others. You can find her on her writing blog as well as Medium and Twitter.
-Jen Feroze
lives by the sea in Essex with her husband and two small children. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in a variety of publications including Ink Sweat & Tears, Chestnut Review, Atrium and The Madrigal. Her first collection, The Colour of Hope, was published in 2020 and she’s currently working on a chapbook of poems about early motherhood.
-Paul Brookes
is a shop asst in a supermarket. Lives in a cat house full of teddy bears. First play performed at The Gulbenkian Theatre, Hull. His chapbooks include The Fabulous Invention Of Barnsley, (Dearne Community Arts, 1993). A World Where and She Needs That Edge (Nixes Mate Press, 2017, 2018) The Spermbot Blues (OpPRESS, 2017), Please Take Change (Cyberwit.net, 2018), As Folk Over Yonder ( Afterworld Books, 2019). He is a contributing writer of Literati Magazine and Editor of Wombwell Rainbow Interviews, book reviews and challenges. Had work broadcast on BBC Radio 3 The Verb and, videos of his Self Isolation sonnet sequence featured by Barnsley Museums and Hear My Voice Barnsley. He also does photography commissions. Most recent is a poetry collaboration with artworker Jane Cornwell: “Wonderland in Alice, plus other ways of seeing”, (JCStudio Press, 2021)
Today’s poem for Paul Brookes’ April poetry challenge was inspired by Gaynor Kane’s photo of Salthill fairground. You can read all the poetry on Paul’s blog.
Thrills
The spectacle of risk,
fear of falling, dying,
the precipice edge,
once enacted
with no blunted weapons,
is now sugared with candy floss,
children’s laughter,
the simulation of risk
in waltzing teacups,
and the prize is not glory
but a cheap, grinning
teddy bear.
Fog
The last time we spoke,
Kano was covered in a film of dust, and our quarrels
sent waves crashing against our balcony.
A butterfly flickered past. I reached for your hands
like my world was ending in a few.
The harmattan lifted.
And my fingers are coated with dust.
Splashing
It’s that time of the year when birds
fly eastwards to be loved.
You leave at the first sun.
The new chilliness stings my face raw.
And time burns holes through your pressed lips.
We don’t have all night
to see in the shade of the fog.
Come fall, the trees will knee.
Rivers splashing in agreement
Think of me as your hills and valleys
Or the shallow-winged bird waiting for your return.
Peaceful Practice
Another mob converged over a migrant and retreated,
and a body lay on the hot street of Zungeru,
a feast for crows and vultures…
View original post 210 more words
A pact with a shattered self, disassembled by a violent reality and expressed in fragmented lines, is thoroughly investigated in Jennifer Militello’s fifth collection. It is a wasteland but the fragments do not shore up against the poet’s ruins, as in T.S. Eliot’s poems; instead, they expose the destruction which is irreversible and total. The individual is lost, a wreck; she is empty, a zombie ‘covered in soot’. There is no going back and ‘nothing can be done’ – the only possibility is describing this condition. Love and relationships are dissected in an accumulation of images that explore the topic from all sides, revealing a dark centre that is reduced to smithereens which are scattered around. ‘Love is all you need’, the dedication at the beginning of the book sings, echoing the Beatles’ song, but this remark is ironic and is denied in the narratives of the poems in the…
View original post 797 more words
Day 27, inspired by all three images
Turnings
The poet in the attic room,
frayed cuffs rolled, sits at the desk
by the open window–
aware of the cliché—
the garret room, drafty in winter
yet not without charm now
as the scent of sweet pea
from the garden drifts and wanders–
a memory circling
like the Ferris wheel at the fair,
straining to reach the top.
I am once again participating in Paul Brookes’ April Ekphrastic Challenge. Each day, I will post my poem(s) here. You can see the art and read the other responses by going to Paul’s site here.
The artists are Gaynor Kane, John Phandal Law, and Anjum Wasim Dar. Thank you for your wonderful and inspiring art!
Day Twenty-Seven
-Anjum Wasim Dar – Sweet Peas
John Phandal Law – Robin Hood’s Bay
-Gaynor Kane – Salthill. Galway Fairground
The Illusion of Kings
To JPL 27
The house sits alone with what remains
after unpaid taxes, bankruptcy or death.
Out back, in the garage, a dusty Rolls Royce
sits near a Harley awaiting its license.
A way in, the back door.
The kitchen, still stocked
with expired food. Opening the fridge
takes the breath away.
Cupboards filled with crystal goblets.
Family china. Silverware.
A pan of something dark and hard on the stove.
The table set for dinner. Wine,
ready to serve. The chairs,
stirred from their stations
in a haphazard escape.
The hallway, a display of photos
of the entire life of a young girl from birth
to the last photo. She is age 12?
Other walls display fine art
stained by water dripping from the roof
and mold.
An elaborate front entryway with cushioned chairs
laced with ivy streaming in
through a broken window.
Hooks for hats and riding gear.
A table holds a tea cup for a visitor
awaiting entry to the parlor,
which is a velvet, dark hard wood,
gold-trimmed wonder.
A library with shelves to the ceiling
holding the classics, now shriveling to dust.
Left behind, family albums, accounting books.
The stairway winds an oaken path
to bedrooms and wardrobes
filled with the starched glare of linens
and gaudy fashions of the day.
The roof gives in to the weight of rain.
Rodents and birds build nests
in the shadows of long-forgotten riches
and mysteries.
The master bedroom,
large enough for a fireplace
and plush sitting area.
An unmade bed languishes
under Christ on the Cross.
A half-used bag of fluids
hangs from a hook.
Over the fireplace mantle,
the proud family crest.
Barbara Leonhard
Turnings (Day 27, inspired by all three images)
The poet in the attic room,
frayed cuffs rolled, sits at the desk
by the open window–
aware of the cliché—
the garret room, drafty in winter
yet not without charm now
as the scent of sweet pea
from the garden drifts and wanders–
a memory circling
like the Ferris wheel at the fair,
straining to reach the top.
Merril D. Smith
27. [Sweet Peas AWD27]
Did any another flower
seem like butterflies
holding the world up?
-Math Jones
Sweet peas (AWD27)
when the blackbird blows reveille
you are there
when seedlings raise their faces
you are there
when tides run quick as women
you are there
on the dizzy tops of fells
you are there
when sails fill with breeze
you are there
walking blind in cloudbursts
you are there
in the breath of sweetpeas
you are there
-Lesley Curwen
Big Wheel (GK27 Salthill Galway fairground)
eyes down to see ground approaching
look up don’t throw up candy floss
eat chips watch neon flash at the moon
smile back at lipstick carousel stallions
unpeel centripetal bliss in spiral slide
brave the hangout of one-armed bandits
-Lesley Curwen
Same Wheel, Different Town (GK27)
Spin, twirl, & hurl
the usual fare—
cotton candy, popcorn,
pork chop on a stick.
Roller coaster, tilt-a whirl.
Snickers fried & jammed
on a pick. Funnel cake.
Caramel apples. Pay no attention
to the signs. Scream & laugh.
Please keep arms
& legs in at all times.
What fun is that?
—Lynne Jensen Lampe
AWD27 – Sweet Peas
I remember a time
when it was acceptable
to have utopian visions of a
future world enhanced by
advances in technology
attributable to well-intentioned
nerds and geeks with
minds which think differently
And there would be
innovative ways
of removing hunger and poverty
of reducing the need for conflicts —
it was something to look forward to
which seemed reachable
for realist
as much as idealist
But something intercepted progress,
inserting between arteries and brain
a dependence on artificial intelligence
for those who had grown used to the
existing imbalance and were easily
persuaded that there was no need
of change – ‘We shall keep all of you
entertained and restrained as your
Minds are suspended from a frame
like plants on a climbing trellis
No need to worry your pretty little…
Don’t look there, look here…
No need to wander beyond the garden
Everything you need is here
Not sweet
Nor the right kind of peaceful
-Peter A.
Thrills (Inspired by Gaynor Kane’s photograph of the Salthill fairground)
The spectacle of risk,
fear of falling, dying,
the precipice edge,
once enacted
with no blunted weapons,
is now sugared with candy floss,
children’s laughter,
the simulation of risk
in waltzing teacups,
and the prize is not glory
but a cheap, grinning
teddy bear.
-Jane Dougherty
Indelible Transience
after GK27 Salthill, Galway, Fairground.
They kissed for the first time
at the touring funfair
candyfloss and petrichor
petrol and cinnamon.
They paid two tokens each
for a go on the ferris wheel
without once looking at the view:
lost and dissolving
wrapped inside each other
in the forever of the moment.
On the speedway the man in charge
clears his throat and taps the sign.
PLEASE KEEP
ARMS & LEGS
IN AT
ALL TIMES
Embarrassed but besotted
they leave the ride hand-in-hand
neither wanting to be
the first to let go.
-Jamie Woods
Galway Girl
after Steve Earle
Galway Girl was being played in the Irish pub
by the regular turn – his backing track thumps
and as he sang, across the room,
I saw you, cocktail in your laughing hand.
Your hair was blond and your eyes were brown
and I wanted to take you from this tired town
round the Salthill Prom or anywhere at all
and get asked to your flat when the rain starts to fall
but then he came in and his kiss on your mouth
left me all alone to dream
of your brown eyes and long blond hair
and how my broken heart
never got chance to get halfway there.
-Tim Fellows
GK27
Tumbleweed
Wheel of horror
Rolling, rolling
To my death
(Inspired also by a personal experience of a nearly grave mishap on a Ferris wheel called “Tumbleweed” at the Great Escape aka Storytown amusement park in Lake George, NY)
-Carrie Ann Golden
Bios And Links
-John Phandal Law
is 68. Lives in Mexborough. Retired teacher. Artist; musician; poet. Recently included in ‘Viral Verses‘ poetry volume. Married. 2 kids; 3 grandkids
-Gaynor Kane
Gaynor Kane lives in Belfast, Northern Ireland, where she is a part-time creative, involved in the local arts scene. She writes poetry and is an amateur artist and photographer. In all her creative activities she is looking to capture moments that might otherwise be missed. Discover more at gaynorkane.com
Twitter @gaynorkane
Facebook @gaynorkanepoet
Instagram @gaynorkanepoet
-Anjum Wasim Dar
started drawing at St Anne’s Presentation Convent High School, Rawalpindi.
Drawing was taught as a Core subject from Kindergarten.
Anjum learnt the skill of Still Life, Sketching, Landscape Drawing, Coloring and Shading She recalled the scented wax crayons and black paper sketch books vividly.
Subject of Fine Arts at Intermediate level at Govt.College for Women Rawalpindi, was stopped by the Indo Pak War of 1965. Anjum continued her passion for art privately.
Her job as a Teacher Instructor allowed her to pursue Art work designing and preparing Thematic Bulletin Boards and Low cost teaching Aids with the Fauji Foundation Teacher’s Training Institute Rawalpindi. www.faujifoundation.org.
This won her the National Education Award 1998.
Completing a Course in Graphic Designing at NICON Academy Rawalpindi , Anjum began working as a Digital Artist, On Line, registered her Own Firm CER Creative Education Resources 2004 and is a Member of DRN Drawing Research Network UK and www.bigdraw.org.uk
https://www.lboro.ac.uk/research/tracey/drn/
https://sites.google.com/site/cerprofessionaldevelopment/
With her artistic skills she plans and conducts “Environment Awareness Workshops for Children” and is a member of www.unep.org and www.earthday.org
CER Participated in World Environment Day and Earth Day Programs 2011-2013
“Face of Climate Change”
Anjum loves Nature, landscapes and abstract imagery. Works with pencils, crayons and the Software ArtRage 2.0 and MyPaint.
Anjum Wasim Dar’s Art Portfolio can be accessed here:
https://www.artwanted.com/anjuartwriter/gallery/
-Merril D. Smith
lives in southern New Jersey near the Delaware River. Her poetry has been published in several poetry journals and anthologies, including Black Bough Poetry, Anti-Heroin Chic, Fevers of the Mind, and Nightingale and Sparrow. Her first full-length poetry collection, River Ghosts, is forthcoming from Nightingale & Sparrow Press. Twitter: @merril_mds Instagram: mdsmithnj Website/blog: merrildsmith.com
-Lesley James(she/her)
is a teacher and writer. She was shortlisted for Love Reading UK’s 2022 Very Short Story Award. Featured flash can be found in The Broken Spine, FullHouseLitMag and RoiFaineant. Kathryn O’Driscoll selected her poem Empty for Full House’s 2021 mental health live reading and forthcoming podcast. Brian Moses, The Dirigible Balloon and Parakeet Magazine have published some of her writing for children.
-Lynne Jensen Lampe
has poems in or forthcoming from Figure 1, Olney Magazine, Yemassee, Moist Poetry Journal, and elsewhere. Also to come is her chapbook Talk Smack to a Hurricane (Ice Floe Press, 2022) about mothers, daughters, and mental illness. She was a 2020 Red Wheelbarrow Poetry Prize finalist. Born in Newfoundland and raised in the Deep South, she lives in mid-Missouri where she edits academic books and journals. Visit her at https://lynnejensenlampe.com. Twitter: @LJensenLampe.
work appears in various online and print publications. She earned both third place and honorary mention for two poems in Well Versed 2021. She is currently writing her first poetry collection about her relationship with her mother, who suffered from Alzheimer’s. From that memoir collection, her poem “Marie Kindo Cleans My Purse at Starbucks” was voted Spillwords Publication of the Month of January and February 2022. Barbara was also voted Spillwords Author of the Month of October 2021 and recognized as a Spillwords Socialite of the Year in 2021. You can follow her on WordPress at https://www.extraordinarysunshineweaver.blog.
-Math Jones
is London-born, but is now based in Oxford. He has two books published: Sabrina Bridge, a poetry collection, from Black Pear Press (2017), and The Knotsman, a collection of verse, rhyme, prose and poetic monologue, which tell of the life and times of a C17th cunning-man. Much of his verse comes out of mythology and folklore: encounters with the uncanny and unseen. Also, as words written for Pagan ritual or as praise poems for a multitude of goddesses and gods. He is a trained actor and performs his poems widely.
-Caroline Johnstone
is an author and poet from Northern Ireland now living in Scotland. She has been published widely including Poetry Scotland, The Blue Nib and Marble Poetry. She loves spending time with her grandchildren, curling up with a good book and champagne or cocktails in no particular order.
-Lesley Curwen
is a poet and sailor living in Plymouth. She often writes about loss, rescues and the sea.
Her work has been published in anthologies from Arachne Press, Nine Pens, Quay Words, Slate, snakeskin, and soon by BrokenSpine and Broken Sleep.
Her poetic relationship with sound has been helped by her work as a BBC broadcaster, editing words on screen.
-Carrie Ann Golden
is from the mystical Adirondack Mountains now living on a farmstead in the Red River Valley of North Dakota (USA). She writes dark fiction and poetry. A Deafblind, her work has been published in places such as GFT Press, Doll Hospital Journal, The Hungry Chimera, Asylum Ink, Piker Press, Edify Fiction and others. You can find her on her writing blog as well as Medium and Twitter.
-Jen Feroze
lives by the sea in Essex with her husband and two small children. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in a variety of publications including Ink Sweat & Tears, Chestnut Review, Atrium and The Madrigal. Her first collection, The Colour of Hope, was published in 2020 and she’s currently working on a chapbook of poems about early motherhood.
-Paul Brookes
is a shop asst in a supermarket. Lives in a cat house full of teddy bears. First play performed at The Gulbenkian Theatre, Hull. His chapbooks include The Fabulous Invention Of Barnsley, (Dearne Community Arts, 1993). A World Where and She Needs That Edge (Nixes Mate Press, 2017, 2018) The Spermbot Blues (OpPRESS, 2017), Please Take Change (Cyberwit.net, 2018), As Folk Over Yonder ( Afterworld Books, 2019). He is a contributing writer of Literati Magazine and Editor of Wombwell Rainbow Interviews, book reviews and challenges. Had work broadcast on BBC Radio 3 The Verb and, videos of his Self Isolation sonnet sequence featured by Barnsley Museums and Hear My Voice Barnsley. He also does photography commissions. Most recent is a poetry collaboration with artworker Jane Cornwell: “Wonderland in Alice, plus other ways of seeing”, (JCStudio Press, 2021)
On Saturday, I participated in a poetry event on Zoom. It was put together by Elizabeth (Liz) Gauffreau and Luanne Castle, and Liz served as host and moderator. I enjoyed this event so much–such wonderful poetry and people. Here’s the video recording. (I’m the last poet to read.)
Inspired by all three images for today.
Catch It
The beauty of a summer rose
is obvious,
less so, the stark winter landscape
of skeleton trees and washed-out sky–
but there–if you look closely–
my cat is beautiful to me,
your pet pig to you–
love doesn’t make us blind,
it makes us see
the lines on a face are roads
on a map
a life-journey—
traveled through places real and imagined,
in monochrome minutes or bright-hued hours,
like a pink bow bobbing in a sea of grey,
a life-preserver tossed to you—catch it.
I am once again participating in Paul Brookes’ April Ekphrastic Challenge. Each day, I will post my poem(s) here. You can see the art and read the other responses by going to Paul’s site here.
The artists are Gaynor Kane, John Phandal Law, and Anjum Wasim Dar. Thank you for your wonderful and inspiring art!
The Wombwell Rainbow 