Urge by Don Matthews

Was out in bush the other day Driving with me mate When great big urge came over him Which just would not abate He took off into the sand dunes To dig himself a hole We had no toilet paper (Forgot to bring a roll) I said whatever did you use To clean yourself with…

INSPIRATION by Michael Walters

Ian knew being creative meant a lot of perspiration Not that his muse always appreciated it She was as fickle as they came Pouting when he offered her the wrong sacrifices It made it difficult for him to get his novel done Reaching for the brandy, he poured a healthy fifth and pounded it back…

Complacency by Bharath Upendra

I lay there staring at the dim light bulb going on and off, as aimlessly as the insects flying around it. The state of motion makes no difference now when neither has anything to do. The woolen t-shirt stuck to my back; I know it’s foolish if you look at the weather outside but I…

Bookmark Page 64 by Don Matthews

True story I have a library book Borrowed for to read It does look rather interesting An interest which need To take me ‘way from poetry And give my mind a rest This book I think will do the trick A nice and welcome guest I’ve just got to page 64 Plot and people weave…

The Phoenix by Joni Caggiano

A serpent turning into a great bird with wings of blue and words I heard killing and blood death and sorrow innocence crying forgetting tomorrow great his sword wings shine white serpent sailing high God’s hand did smite dazzling light rising many souls ascend heaven greets all souls reside within -JONI CAGGIANO Joni’s blog is…

White Blank by Don Matthews

It stares out from the screen at me I stare right back at it Yes, it says, I am quite blank And, yes, I feel a git. I’ve got no spelling errors Syntax perfect, yes I’m just a piece of white blank verse Examine me, address! But I’ve got better things to do Than look…

Prosaic Hell by Don Matthews

I have so many poems They wait, pile up, say “send” They keep on procreating Drives me round the bend This bloody rhyme’s addictive I gotta have my words Injected for my daily fix It’s damnably absurd You say to me go rehab They will de-rhyme your brain Jack and Jill won’t climb the hill…

Dinnerplate Identities by Britta Benson

We all eat. Food comes and goes, always available, yet often, more of an afterthought, a side show, consumed in a rush. I see people in the street wolfing down a sandwich while speaking on the phone, no respect, no regret. Let’s stop here and linger. I’ve got something to tell you.  This is the…

Religious Ego by Tony Ashenden

Gritty shell Church within an egg I watch the moulder of your stone In envy Of the subtle grain that clings together Unperturbed Disdainful of my changing face. I even see Your smoke washed splints of mortar Laughing into faces. Stilton memories I achieved And could not Stop the wooden green from going rot. Words…

Being Something by Bharath Upendra

Do things have thoughts? What is a thing? Everything is a thing when you look at them that way. These things, that come and go, why do they come? Why do they go? They say we own things and when we use them, they own us. I don’t understand, we have become so expendable, things…

What’s in a Name by Shobana Gomes

Knitted in the document of names, the journey beginsOf what do you see the traits begin or howHow does the trail reveal its rootsA name stands to gain footage on scrollsLike a mushrooming tree, it gains its footholdA surname likened to a familyThe name that catapults the flames of identityTo know the branches that hold…

Lies by Bharath Upendra

You try and let go but I hold on to your hands, fingers intertwined, tighter. You pull with much greater force than my heart can shelter and I leave you, at once. It’s not physical, but an emotional force that pushes me away from you. I walk forward in that inertia, following the feelings as…

Will Not Get With the Times by Bogdan Dragos

he just wanted to write Very old-school character Used pencils and paper But the city wouldn’t let him. The city outside his four walls stood like a sea of noise against his dreams “Listen,” his wife said, “these days they don’t even accept snail mail submissions. You have to get with the times. It’s done…

First Feet by Don Matthews

If you like my humourAnd think I’m worth a readHop in with your feet firstYou are a dying breed If you’re into doom and gloomDon’t think I’m worth a readGo ahead I don’t careProcreate your breed OK my humour can beStrange, sometimes offbeatBut if you think I’m worth a readThen jump in with first feet…

Most Subjective Industry of All by Bogdan Dragos

“Some poets are lucky,” he said. “And others simply aren’t. Remember, as long as we talk about the publishing industry it’s all about luck. Like, yeah, go ahead and name one, just one industry that is more subjective, or just as subjective as the publishing industry. I bet you can’t.” “Um, fashion industry?” I said…

I’ve Failed as a Poet Again by Don Matthews

I’m sitting in the cafe again It’s hopeless, don’t know what to write I’m doing my usual look-looking around But there’s no ideas coming in sight So what does a poet do lacking ideas? With me it’s to internalise To turn on myself, make the neurons go round See what they can bring me, surprise…