non

Cruel neon man. How you sit,

A lighthouse crooning, a red crow

With thbthb feather

On a waving post. Stretch away

Stretcher,

‘A dropping stomach, sir, a stomach that’s dropped.’

disappoint

I will forget the bitterness of you.

The cold, whistling space

And leave my think trace.

 

Poetic authority.. pearl poet bubble

Burst here, oxygen peace oxygen

 

In bedroom comfort, bedroom kind.

Tuck your private mind

 

The clouds look kind, but choke.

The Good girl

The Good girl sung

And prayed in church

On every Sunday morn.

She closed her eyes

And thanked the Lord

For letting Christ be born.

 

And all was well

From week to week.

Her heart was full and calm.

That was, until,

The New girl came

And offered Good her palm.

 

Her eyes were clear,

Her cheeks were soft.

Her lips were red as blood.

The Good girl cursed

Her wicked heart

For falling fast in love.

 

From then, the church

Was ne’er the same.

It welcomed her no more.

The walls dripped black

And with a smack

They thrust her from its door.

Green Comfort

The green comfort, long deserted me,

Shrivelled ditch-ward. No young tree

Grows: I am old, squeezing out of time

And mud and heart.

I have played my part,

Shared my skin,

Pressed myself within. My dear adult bird,

The wand’ring mind,

Is never heard, and left behind.

Queenie- Lois Linkens

My piece ‘Queenie’ on SD:

Sudden Denouement Collective

White slip of night at the shore,

And the fox-eyed pebbles wink at

The cold pearl moon. The freshwater stream,

Like silver silk

Heralds the flush of the waves, the bubbling spits

Of the shallows, stones like eyes, stones like saucers,

Like griddle cakes. There comes a woman,

Without a coat, silver-wax shoulders studded

With gooseflesh. She walks,

Toward the black water and the night-worms

Hear her singing, overhead her socked feet damp

And bottoms gritty,

A soft knitted invasion.

There is a country, far beyond the stars

 

Her red hat

Like a herring on a line sways with her

Narrow peg shoulders

And the sea

Is tar on her woollen toes.

Lois is a poet and student from England. She is studying the literature of the Romantics and hopes their values and innovations will filter through into her own work. She is working on longer projects at present…

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