By Ruth Guest We are here now, Her and me Near lifeless, almost broken Only one will recover Repuzzled from these shards Recaptured from...

By Katelynn Hutchinson A sound much like revolvers cracking Deafens a reject child. No longer does it feel the mirrors plastered to its...

By Susanne LaBrake Her mind travels again tonight along the path that leads down the cobbled streets to meadows dark, where lamprocapnos...

By Sean Perrun Sleep is a strange thing To happen The vision folds at the corners The mind squares away And reality melts into The...

By Oliver Carmichael Some mornings I wake to find his hands at the bottom of my bed, tapping fingertips, cracking knuckles. Some mornings...

By N J Delmas They left me on the mountain top. Offerings laid at my frozen feet. A butterfly in a transparent case, coloured wings...

By Mark Totterdell There’s a briny tang of rock samphire, a slight fragrance of sweet fennel, and I can taste the sea beet’s bitterness...

By Yago Wasn’t it at a bus stop or something where someone had used a white board marker to write out a prophecy about evil the...

By Oscar Rodriguez I find myself to be the only one in cut worship.   The first one to realize the whip slashed my wrists.   They...

By Rachel McBride My heart flutters like a fish out of water, trying to assimilate   to newfound air.   I wait for the faint plus sign to...

By Wineharp Death, ageing and grieving                                            Bugs, warts and heaving                                ...

By F.J. Thomas You broke my heart and stole my muse The worst thing you could steal For a poet and a writer Who writes from how they...

By Sujatha Menon I swam in a dress made from algae and gold, trailed a veil        spun from sunlight   grief tied a bow around my waist...

By Lindsay Anne I do not write the works of joy that you search for when your heart is full of joy and you want to find someone else who...

By Victoria Reed With a gooey apologetic smile, you gesture to The duplicitous feast you have laid out for me. It seems to stretch for an...

By Sean Tate Standing at the edge of the lake, You sink down, ankle deep, toes grasping. Black soil oozes, hugs, and holds— a wet and...

By Jonty Pennington-Twist God and Poseidon; Neither give me peace. How can I mend this circuitry Amid these insect whispers? And then,...

By Mary Mulholland The journey back is full of metaphor: too much traffic, deep wintertime, and twelve hours of shared driving, too tired...

By Lynsey Balloch Our beloved house has been snug and warm, For well over thirteen years, Quiet road, spotless windows, And a blooming...

By Natasha Tabani Quod fuimus, estis; quod sumus, eritis   That man of bones, again he comes calling - it's hard to resist those...