‘g.u.t.’ – a poem by Alvin Kathembe with a photograph by Vera Schmittberger

IceFloe Press

‘g. u. t.’

my lover says that she’s figured out
a unified model of the cosmos.
she says that the universe,
with all its macroimplosions
and quantum fluctuations
is nothing but the
bubbling bubbling bubbling
in the great sky-mother’s womb.
what else, she asks,
could birth all this infinite everything
from kernels of infinitesimal nothing?
what else could contain such
uncontainable expansion?


Alvin Kathembe is a writer from Nairobi, Kenya. His poetry has been featured in Dust Poetry Magazine, TheShort Story Foundation Journal, Poetry Potion and other publications. His short stories have been published in Omenana, Brittlepaper andDigital Bedbugs, available on Kindle. Find him on Twitter(1) Alvin Kathembe (@SofaPhilosopher) / Twitter

Vera Schmittberger isa photo artist and occupational therapist. She grew up in Germany adjacent borders with Luxembourg, Belgium and France, in an area of forests, hills and mountains. Her photography emerges out ofspontaneous journeys and…

View original post 47 more words

Factory Floor – a poem by Emma Filtness with a mixed-media collage by M.S. Evans

IceFloe Press

Factory Floor

I remember the scraps
of silk you’d bring home for me treasure
magpied from the factory floor
plucked
from frantic gaps
between pedals and feet
scavenged slithers of slippery lightly grasped
tucked into the pouch
of your navy pinnie as if
you were lining a nest
knowing these scraps would keep me warm
while you were gone as I’d collage them
onto a page with white glue in the shape of your
absence


EmmaFiltnessis a poet and lecturer in Creative Writing at Brunel University London. Her poems recently featured in visual poetry exhibitions with Poem Atlas and Mellom Press.Emmafinds inspiration in nature and the (dark) feminine, writes much of late about her childhood hometown, migration and work, makes zines and particularly enjoys exploring found and visual poetics. Twitter: Emma L Filtness (@em_filtness) / TwitterInstagram: @cultofflora

Banner Art: Mother’s Nest, a Mixed Media Collage by M.S. Evans…

View original post 6 more words

#IDEVAW International Day for Eliminating Violence Against Women poetry and artwork challenge. Unpublished/published accepted. Please DM me or send a message via my WordPress site. All submissions will be published tomorrow. The actual day of the event.

TEARS OF GOD

My son’s eyes are ice.

I have seen this look before.

He lugs my dog Sheba by her mane,

hauls her along the floor

a piece of meat, slopping over gunnels

in an abattoir, blood down the drains.

Her paws scratch and scrape

he dumps her at my feet.

“Bite its ear!”

I shake my head.

“If it’s done wrong, and it has

bite its ear.” I shake my head

mumble

“Done nothing wrong.”

“Eh! Speak up woman!”

“It ‘aint done nothing wrong. Jack!”

Fine rain falls through grey skies

in the pub yard, and a yellow

fluid flows out from under the dog.

“Dirty bitch!”

He kicks Sheba in her side.

She whimpers, puts her head

pleadingly on the black shiny

surface of my court shoes.

“I’ll do it then!”

Snatches her up

by the scruff

“Getting a dog

and not bringing it up right.

Stupid cow!”

He snaps at the silk of her ear.

She yelps. I cry.

“Stupid sodding cow!”

He slaps me hard

across my face. I feel

his gold rings on my cheek.

“Stop whimpering!”

Pushes me up against

the wet wall. His cold eyes

up close make me shiver.

One hand on my throat,

the other points at her. I mumble.

“Not again Jack. Please.”

My legs have gone.

“Treat the bitch right

and it’ll treat you right.”

Sheba inches against the wall, 

low and hung back like the grey clouds.

Jack lets me fall. The pub door slams

Sheba, up on her legs again,

licks my face, lays down by my side

puts her head on my black court shoes.

Her neck is warm. My back hurts.

They call the rain the “Tears of God”

-Paul Brookes (Previously published, 2004)

November Ekphrastic Challenge: Day 25

Jane Dougherty Writes

Today’s poem for Paul Brookes’ challenge is inspired by this painting, They’re supposed to be my dreams by Marcel Herms.

MH25 They're supposed to be my dreams, mixed media on paper, 21 x 29,7 cm, 2019

Sandmen

This is what you get, says the Sandman,
teeth and hands red and running,
this is what you get because there’s nothing else.

I shake my head until it almost drops off,
limp as a frost-bitten rose bud,
and the ocean stretches deep and blue and glittering.

The bringer of nightmares turns
away, and the world goes black
as a Sandman’s cloak, but in the dark

the waves still gleam
with the dancing of dolphins
and the golden sheen of apples,

and I smile
because he doesn’t know
that there are dreams too.

View original post

Day Twenty-Fifth : 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 25th.

Day 25th

MH25 They're supposed to be my dreams, mixed media on paper, 21 x 29,7 cm, 2019

They’re supposed to be my dreams by Marcel Herms

The Lorikeet

I saw the flash of rainbow wings an instant before a sharp thud
shuddered through glass, sickening downward flutter, inertia

interrupted. I hurried outside to revive the small parrot, a lorikeet,
cushioned in flowerbed debris under red bottle brush and kangaroo

paw. There was no heaving of the tiny breast. I stroked iridescent
feathers, willing breath. In Dreamtime, the lorikeet flies into a rainbow

to adorn her plumage. Sometimes she is a disabled girl who dreams
of flying. Rainbow Spirit changes her into a dazzling bird.

The fallen lorikeet lies still, eyes closed. Her colorful strands are my dreams,
inertia slammed by neuroimmune disease. I’ve seen endless horizons in

all directions, but not the invisible barrier that would ground me. Gently,
I cup my hands around the injured bird, cradling lost parts of myself.

We wait, the lorikeet and I. Faint murmur of consciousness, sudden
fluffing of down on skin. In a gust of wind my visitor swoops into air.

I shade my eyes to watch her ascent.

— Gayle J. Greenlea

(They’re Supposed to be My Dreams)

“Jumping Jack”

It’s said that a box of sensitive files was stolen from a high rise building in the capital.

It’s said that the box is now with its rightful owner on a beach or slice of verdant wilderness.

All that sits in the box’s previous location is a cryptic note marking it’s absence.

-Lydia Wist

VOYAGER 1

You’re supposed
to fly … evermore.

Lost rocket
swallow diving.
A slow descent into
the centre of the
Milky Way.

Dark ghost heart beating.
Tin can meets,
the silent eye
of the vacuum.

Do machines
dream alone?
A maker’s memory
emerging so far away.

Sing the song electric
giving
mechanicals comfort
until their doomsday.

Do they cry
aloud
or silently despair as
they sleep alone.

One by one
the lights go out.
Is it enough
that
they still serve?

© Dai Fry 22nd November

MH25
They’re supposed to be my dreams

Dirt floors, palmetto thatch
thick dragonflies up from river,
cypress piercing azure
heat settling in a stifling quilt.
Going to town, relentless
background noise, pressing
hands to face, seeing with palms,
dark tongues of wind licking
away buildings, shelf clouds
come hammering down rain
cooked up far out in the Gulf,
the kicker is the surge
peeling up roads, floating
away cars, inundation
fills my sleep, a great storm
come to scour clean, leaving
nothing but sand and wrack.

-Peach Delphine

.day 25.

:: gains & experiences ::

do you see that it is not there?

having checked several times this end
find there is just the one with no problems therefore

note the rules down one side
hysteria the other

lists remain of all that is lost
no mention of gains or fortitude

some may look for the other one
some may find it

while the little people with their arms held high
dance in the sunlight with all that remains

we ask for the italian music this morning

.. sbm ..

They’re Not in Black and White?

THEY,–not the others, are
SUPPOSED TO BE,—but aren’t
MY—not your, his or her
DREAMS,—not nightmares.
Time to sleep, not pinball around,
a wrinkled script in my head
on an endless loop in colors
that vibrate behind closed eyelids.

-Holly York

MH25

You were a river gorge, red
& swagger, the scritch of trees
against sky, light staggering
through consciousness. Sun
and water may look like they braid
but they remain separate.
I cup pink in my hands, lie rippled
for the skip of burgundy
stones. I sleep on riverbanks,
clove-shaped. My heart wades
in grey-shine. You would not know
the allure of such muted places
where even fish hesitate to nibble
and day is a country left behind.

-Anindita Sengupta

Sandmen

This is what you get, says the Sandman,
teeth and hands red and running,
this is what you get because there’s nothing more.

I shake my head until it almost drops off,
limp as a frost-bitten rose bud,
and the ocean stretches deep and blue and glittering.

The bringer of nightmares turns
away, and the world goes black,
as a Sandman’s cloak, but in the dark

the waves still gleam
with the dancing of dolphins
and the golden sheen of apples,

and I smile
because he doesn’t know
that there are dreams too.

-Jane Dougherty

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 

 

Waterlogged – a poem by Ryan Norman

IceFloe Press

Waterlogged

I watched you in the dark and your dark
became my dark.

To come home from school and find you
with your back against the cushions, curled

against the world, heavy
curtains blocking out all that light.

I’d look at your sadness
and feel

for a smile, my fingers
fumbling

over crevasses filled with tears. Their
waterlogged prints unrecognizable

from searching so long. I used
to wish that I could hug you

the way the couch did and feel
your warmth.

But I went to my room,
closed the curtains,

and let the darkness hug me
instead.


Ryan Norman is a writer from New York living in the Hudson Valley. Inspired by the landscape, he writes what he feels. His work has appeared in From Whispers to Roars, XRAY Literary Magazine, Black Bough Poetry, Storgy Magazine and elsewhere. You can find him on Twitter Ryan Norman (@RyanMGNorman) / Twitter

View original post 27 more words

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