By Ian Harvey i Tried. Guilty as charged. For shame that sweet toothed justice Swallowed the honeyed lies Of corrupt, capricious men With too much to lose. Lies. A sham. They cursed his name – a pirate Raped by falsehood in the dock. “I will not trouble this court Any more, for it is Folly.” And so the perjurers, triumphant, Slipped the noose Around the turned neck Of Captain Kidd “The innocentest of them all.” ii He died at sunset in Wapping On special gallows erected

By Geoffrey Beevers Must I compare thee to a summer’s day? You’re not as lovely, nor as temperate. There’s no competing with the buds of May And summer always has one perfect date, Sunshine is softer; when your temper shines The heat’s so fierce, the light of reason’s dimmed: And still the fairness of your face declines With deeper grooves and straggly hair untrimmed. It can’t be changed; your outward looks must fade, Crushed by possession of Life’s debt you owe, No lines of

By Frances Green You said I’d get nothing After twenty years, nothing! Enabling you to dress in suits, command respect, be seen, be heard While I stayed behind, washed your clothes, bought your food, scrubbed your house, was berated Weighed down by your mouldy seed, a growing weed, in my depleted soil once rich now crumbled dry The keys you took of my gilded cage You took my tresses long and thick, shiny blondness now grey and fallen; I lop them off You took my body once stro