I am thinking of a walk I took in the last of the late summer of 2019. I am reminded of it by the sound of the trees that I now hear every morning from my new office on the other side of the house. These are big, graceful, beautiful trees which are clustered along one edge of a field and horse stables, land belonging to a farm in the village I live in. My morning routine is an early one, i like the dream time at the beginning of the day, when my brain hasn’t settled itself into worry and routine: meditation, journal writing, coffee, work. The first thing I do each day is to pad, barefoot, into the new office, my writing room, and open the window for the breeze and the trees. I feel I breathe better around trees. I don’t think it’s the extra…
I never knew how babies grew,
until one night, my grandmother led me out
under the weight of dawn and a lifting sky.
On the mountains shoulders, light cast
out, looking for a new beginning,
And there they were. The conditions have to
Be just right. The moon lining up to sew the pattern,
With Venus, and the other planetary lamps
Measuring shadow and shade.
The old made young again, rising like seedlings
in the dab grey dew, while spiders sung their webs
and the fairy host turned straight on until morning.
Old Mr Begg from the house on the end,
Old Mrs Sutherland, from the garret on the ginnel.
Same face, bodies shrunken, pushing up
in purple heather. A blackbird belled a warning
And my grandmother and I were away to our beds,
But I didn’t sleep again that night, as the sun
pulled up the shutters and roused the animals
from paw twitching dreams to daytime clamour.
I never asked how my grandmother knew.
We never spoke of it again, and I can only think
that she made a pact, to lie amongst the heather
when her time came, to give herself over to them.
-Ali Jones
Unbreakable
In her dreams,
the seasons bleed together.
Birth into burning into silence.
She is a blossom
taking her first sip of air,
a flower
opening itself
to a sky filled with flames,
a petal,
wilting, floating,
falling into a final embrace.
Her heart is weightless here,
soundless and unbreakable.
She reaches through a cloud of fire,
touches the center of the sun.
She feels no pain.
-Susan Richardson
Summer of 1995
My bro & I played Cricket at home.
We broke the “Ajanta” Wall clock.
Petrified of our Dad, we ran to the fields
and sat by the pond in a hope that the frogs
would pop up and that Dad’s anger would
vapourise.
Sun would set late and evenings
were all about lemonades.
We would climb the trees without
a plan of how to get down! On
certain days while taking rest in farms,
we would fall asleep.
Mom would come into the fields
screaming my name in search of me.
And today, father has lost his sting,
mother has lost her hearing & my wife
goes in search our kids to the farms.
-Jay Gandhi
Latency
The best
The future has to offer
Serenely rests
On the mountain, or in some valley
Already preparing to solve crimes,
Write stories, cure diseases; tiny bodies, home to giant minds.
As dew on mountain grasses waits
To evaporate in the morning sun,
Transforms to return to earth as rain,
These, too, shall arise
With a transfer of latent energy
To meet the world’s expectancy.
-st
The One Hand
of the hillside holds curled up bairns.
Some nestle into its palm dream a sunrise
or a sunset whilst the cold lake awaits
their splash and play in the bath of their days .
For some it is the evening of their lives
and will not see another sun. Shepherds
gathering stock from these moors
will find their white bones under ferns
as they take their sheep to be sheared
down paths only the animals know.
These are the lost and unremembered bairns.
-Paul Brookes
Bios and links
-Jane Cornwell
likes drawing and painting children, animals, landscapes and food. She specialises in watercolour, mixed media, coloured pencil, lino cut and print, textile design. Jane can help you out with adobe indesign for your layout needs, photoshop and adobe illustrator. She graduated with a ba(hons) design from Glasgow School of art, age 20.
She has exhibited with the rsw at the national gallery of scotland, SSA, Knock Castle Gallery, Glasgow Group, Paisley Art Institute, MacMillan Exhibition at Bonhams, Edinburgh, The House For An Art Lover, Pittenweem Arts Festival, Compass Gallery, The Revive Show, East Linton Art Exhibition and Strathkelvin Annual Art Exhibition.
is an award winning, internationally published poet. She is the author of “Things My Mother Left Behind”, coming from Potter’s Grove Press in 2020, and also writes the blog, “Stories from the Edge of Blindness”. You can find her on Twitter @floweringink, listen to her on YouTube, and read more of her work on her website.
is a teacher, and writer with work published in a variety of places, from Poetry Ireland Review, Proletarian Poetry and The Interpreter’s House, to The Green Parent Magazine and The Guardian. She has a particular interest in the role of nature in literature, and is a champion of contemporary poetry in the secondary school classroom.
is a Software Engineer by qualification, an accountant by profession, a budding Guitarist & a Yoga Sadhak at heart and a poet by his soul. Poetry intrigues him because it’s an art in which a simple yet profound skill of placing words next to each other can create something so touching and literally sweep him of the floor. He is 32-year-old Indian and stays in Mumbai. His works have appeared in the following places:
An ebook named “Pav-bhaji @ Achija” available in the Kindle format at Amazon.in The poem “Salsa; a self discovery” published in an anthology motivated by Late Sir APJ Abdul Kalam. The poem “High Caloried love” selected for an upcoming book “Once upon a meal” The poem “Strawberry Lip Balm” selected in the anthology “Talking to the poets” Four poems published in a bilingual anthology “Persian Sugar in English Tea” Vol.1 Two poems published in the anthology “Poets on the Run” compiled by RC James.
His poems have made it to the PoeTree blog and front pages of PoetryCircle.com & OpenArtsForum.com. In free time, he likes to walk for long distances.
is an American poet whose work emphasizes emotional integrity and social justice. She is the author of several eBooks including, Learning from Pompeii, Coffee for Neanderthals, Disgracing Lady Justice and others, available on smashwords.com and its affiliates.Chapbook:Ebola (West Chester University Poetry Center, 2014)
is a shop asst. Lives in a cat house full of teddy bears. His chapbooks include The Fabulous Invention Of Barnsley, (Dearne Community Arts, 1993). The Headpoke and Firewedding (Alien Buddha Press, 2017), A World Where and She Needs That Edge (Nixes Mate Press, 2017, 2018) The Spermbot Blues (OpPRESS, 2017), Port Of Souls (Alien Buddha Press, 2018), Please Take Change (Cyberwit.net, 2018), Stubborn Sod, with Marcel Herms (artist) (Alien Buddha Press, 2019), As Folk Over Yonder ( Afterworld Books, 2019). Forthcoming Khoshhali with Hiva Moazed (artist), Our Ghost’s Holiday (Final book of threesome “A Pagan’s Year”) . He is a contributing writer of Literati Magazine and Editor of Wombwell Rainbow Interviews.
on looking at todays work
i see the spots are appearing
when sprayed
with cosmetic fixative
glow pink
yesterday i picked ivy from the wall
of the outbuilding. i do a little each
day
so my fingers
dont bleed
this is satisfactory
pleases me and
moves the work into a new area
the doors are painted badly now
in tune with music
from the films in
tune with the times
yes money gets tight here
so some shops & charities
give food
and other sundries
today i plan to walk ,to clean
the outside lav and maybe
you will have to google that
as i had to google your noodles
james
the drawings have come stiff again
with all this time we have at home
so i need to move them into a place
of loose adjustment
of random offerings
and sketchy lines
james
Rivera himself, as a pug-faced child, and Frida Kahlo stand beside the skeleton; mural in Mexico City courtesy of Diego Rivera Núñez and one more author under CC BY 2.0
“Freedom of expression is a human right and forms Article 19 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. Freedom of expression [a foundation for other rights] covers freedom of speech, freedom of the press, and gives individuals and communities the right to articulate their opinions without fear of retaliation, censorship or punishment. (The right to freedom of expression wouldn’t be worth much if the authorities also had the right to imprison anyone who disagrees with them.) An effective media also depends on the legal basis that freedom of expression gives the right to function and report freely, sometimes critically, without threat or fear of punishment.
“Freedom of expression is not an absolute right: it does not protect hate speech or…
When I was really small, we used to walk along a disused track,
still called the railway line. It wasn’t one of Beeching’s cuts,
but an old quarry service route, stone blasted, raining fossils,
in a red Marlestone fog. Nature had taken it back, of course.
I can remember, running far from my Mother’s grasping cries,
under charged boundaries, trying them with fingers and tongue –
waiting for the jolt, wanting to feel the danger, reminding me
to always remain anchored to the earth – a sapling still tentative.
One day, racing to the horizon, I found the old signal box.
door long gone, paint peeling, just the hint of memory.
A small banked hearth and singing kettle, a neat brushed uniform.
I didn’t see it a first, yet somehow I knew to bow my head.
There in the corner, a wheel of twigs and fur, garnished
With a twist of orange twine. We locked eyes and I knew
it was her space, retreating, never breaking contact, as if
caught in the spell of shell and yolk. She lifted over my head,
to show me a clutch of pale blue hopes. I walked back to my
Mother, not knowing whether to share surprise or keep silent.
Instead I called for sticklebacks resting a small blue bucket,
to slide slipstream again later. I always kept her secret safe.
-Ali Jones
This Egg Asks
his dad to take the egg cup
from him in the dark garden.
Joins his Good Egg disciples.
Later his disciple Bad Egg
Judas licks him
and he is arrested.
Soldiers break him,
His yolk bleeds.
Nailed to a cross
the egg gets wet
in a storm.
Taken down, wrapped,
he is placed in a box,
discovered to be empty,
the wrapper discarded.
Disciples go on an egg hunt.
Later learn he has risen
to the mouth of his dad.
-Paul Brookes
First day @ Job
Today the chick’s
shell has cracked.
It rubs its eyes
while it struggles
to get up on
its feet.
It will learn fast
to run fast; run
zigzag, cut lanes
& fly.
The world
is a beautiful
place—
full of scavengers.
-Jay Gandhi
The Forgotten One
The one that came first
has flown the coop.
She was prettier than you,
smarter,
had feathers made of gold.
The one who came second
died in a storm
that lasted thirty years.
He was kinder than you,
gentler,
had feathers as delicate as petals.
Now it’s just you here,
sullen and plain,
feathers tattered like rags
and an egg that will never hatch.
-Susan Richardson
Anatomy of a Chicken
Red jungle-fowl descendant,
Gallus gallus,
Numbering 23.7 billion,
These are the real dominators Of the globe.
Perhaps it’s no wonder,
In Greece
They taught valor. But today,
This mighty omnivore
Is reduced to
General Tso’s and Tikki Masala.
The aggressor, become victim.
So, what’s a chicken made of?
Surely not fear,
But resignation.
-st
Bios and links
-Jane Cornwell
likes drawing and painting children, animals, landscapes and food. She specialises in watercolour, mixed media, coloured pencil, lino cut and print, textile design. Jane can help you out with adobe indesign for your layout needs, photoshop and adobe illustrator. She graduated with a ba(hons) design from Glasgow School of art, age 20.
She has exhibited with the rsw at the national gallery of scotland, SSA, Knock Castle Gallery, Glasgow Group, Paisley Art Institute, MacMillan Exhibition at Bonhams, Edinburgh, The House For An Art Lover, Pittenweem Arts Festival, Compass Gallery, The Revive Show, East Linton Art Exhibition and Strathkelvin Annual Art Exhibition.
is an award winning, internationally published poet. She is the author of “Things My Mother Left Behind”, coming from Potter’s Grove Press in 2020, and also writes the blog, “Stories from the Edge of Blindness”. You can find her on Twitter @floweringink, listen to her on YouTube, and read more of her work on her website.
is a teacher, and writer with work published in a variety of places, from Poetry Ireland Review, Proletarian Poetry and The Interpreter’s House, to The Green Parent Magazine and The Guardian. She has a particular interest in the role of nature in literature, and is a champion of contemporary poetry in the secondary school classroom.
is a Software Engineer by qualification, an accountant by profession, a budding Guitarist & a Yoga Sadhak at heart and a poet by his soul. Poetry intrigues him because it’s an art in which a simple yet profound skill of placing words next to each other can create something so touching and literally sweep him of the floor. He is 32-year-old Indian and stays in Mumbai. His works have appeared in the following places:
An ebook named “Pav-bhaji @ Achija” available in the Kindle format at Amazon.in The poem “Salsa; a self discovery” published in an anthology motivated by Late Sir APJ Abdul Kalam. The poem “High Caloried love” selected for an upcoming book “Once upon a meal” The poem “Strawberry Lip Balm” selected in the anthology “Talking to the poets” Four poems published in a bilingual anthology “Persian Sugar in English Tea” Vol.1 Two poems published in the anthology “Poets on the Run” compiled by RC James.
His poems have made it to the PoeTree blog and front pages of PoetryCircle.com & OpenArtsForum.com. In free time, he likes to walk for long distances.
is an American poet whose work emphasizes emotional integrity and social justice. She is the author of several eBooks including, Learning from Pompeii, Coffee for Neanderthals, Disgracing Lady Justice and others, available on smashwords.com and its affiliates.Chapbook:Ebola (West Chester University Poetry Center, 2014)
is a shop asst. Lives in a cat house full of teddy bears. His chapbooks include The Fabulous Invention Of Barnsley, (Dearne Community Arts, 1993). The Headpoke and Firewedding (Alien Buddha Press, 2017), A World Where and She Needs That Edge (Nixes Mate Press, 2017, 2018) The Spermbot Blues (OpPRESS, 2017), Port Of Souls (Alien Buddha Press, 2018), Please Take Change (Cyberwit.net, 2018), Stubborn Sod, with Marcel Herms (artist) (Alien Buddha Press, 2019), As Folk Over Yonder ( Afterworld Books, 2019). Forthcoming Khoshhali with Hiva Moazed (artist), Our Ghost’s Holiday (Final book of threesome “A Pagan’s Year”) . He is a contributing writer of Literati Magazine and Editor of Wombwell Rainbow Interviews.
“For age is opportunity no less Than youth itself, though in another dress, And as the evening twilight fades away The sky is filled with stars, invisible by day.”
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
“Old” is not a pejorative,
We’re ripe not rotten
We’re flexible not fossilized,
We started out with typewriters,
Slide rules and comptometers,
Moved on to hand-held calculators
And word processing, transitioning
In time to sophisticated software, to
Wi-fi and laptops, and from slow mail
To social networking and Zoom
We hail from good years for people,
A crop of fine folk with a refined sense
of conscience, who knock on the doors
Of those who are asleep, those who
Lack scruples perhaps by nurture, by bent
Or sheer ignorance, our heroes are the
Ninety-nine percent who persist despite
Systemic inequalities, the unsung ones
We know what’s real, what matters, And where to invest ourselves…
“From the quay sail the ships of remembered souls who look at their reflection in the ocean of forgotten souls.”
If you are interested in poetry and are a Twitter user, you will probably have come across the name Paul Brookes, aka @Pauldragonwolf1. Paul’s a busy man: not only with his own publications, but his website (The Wombwell Rainbow), where he showcases his own work and hosts other writers’ work as well. There is also the ongoing series of interviews with poets, which you will find on Rainbow.
Port of Souls was first published in 2018 and is an ekphrastic collaboration between Paul and the Dutch artist, Marcel Herms, who himself works across a range of media. Here, Marcel has produced a series of 30 paintings to each of which, Paul has created a poetic response. The combination of visual and verbal imagery is remarkable: both are at times startling, rewarding and, I have to say, at times uncomfortable. In some of the poems I can detect Paul’s distinct Yorkshire tones, number 9, Turn on Thee for example.
The title comes from number 22, Ships Of, which for me is the central poem in the collection; but it also recurs in 28, Our Futility, and in 30, A World Where, the final poem. A world where, we learn from 23, Our Dad’s Soul, that Paul’s father’s National Service had him working servicing ship’s boilers. This, perhaps accounts for the ship/port/water imagery that occurs again and again in the collection. Paul talks of ‘this fishlocked port’, ‘this earthgoing ocean’, ‘the dockside of her bed’. Often, the imagery is visceral; there’s a lot about blood, bone, skeletons, eyeballs; also, physical decline, Cheyne-Stoke breathing; and rats, and finally, death and grief. That’s not to say it’s a catalogue of grimness, it isn’t. There’s humour, and sex, and throughout, Paul’s distinctive voice.
Paul continues his interviews with poets and is about to embark on a further ekphrastic project. Poetry is clearly the central driving force in Paul’s creative life, and you’ll find his work in a range of publications. However, he still finds time to promote other poets’ work and is generous with his criticism and encouragement. If you are at all interested in contemporary poetry—and now, of all times, we need to listen to our poets—then seek out Paul’s work, you might at times be startled, but you won’t be disappointed.
Don Oldham.
Port Of Soulsis available at Amazon and from Alien Buddha Press.
Rivera himself, as a pug-faced child, and Frida Kahlo stand beside the skeleton; mural in Mexico City courtesy of 
Courtesy of pixpoetry @blackpoetry, unsplash 
The Wombwell Rainbow 
