Poetry: 3 From K W Peery

BLOODY MARYS WITH FREDDIE   In the mother of pearl refraction from Freddie King’s semi hollow body fretboard You could see every metal pick scar the Texas Cannonball made with his crooked ‘n calloused index finger Just slow sellin’ it center stage – Inside that Bloody Mary haze – With a tone so honest it…

Poetry: Sunday Evenings by Ian Copestick

The leaves are appearing on the trees The daffodils sway in the breeze It’s a dull Sunday evening in spring What is happening ? Absolutely nothing ! The sky is a mixture of grey and blue As if it can’t make it’s mind up what to do It feels like the whole world is having…

Poetry: My Theology by Ian Copestick

As I walk the streets, my aches Remind me that I’m passing middle age The wear and tear the body takes This skin, bone and muscle cage That we work so hard to preserve Yet still we yearn to transcend We know there must be more than this Earth And simple death can’t be the…

From Scratch by John Patrick Robbins

I believe I will burn down the house rather than have to clean it. Start back from scratch live in a tent drinking wine. Talking to myself like a crazy person without a care in the world. Park my car in the nearest pond. And abandon everything I own because I rather not be tied…

Poetry: Here Comes The …. by Ian Copestick

Yes, they’re coming The long days of summer The sun is shining And this weekend The clocks go forward The long sun- filled days Are on their way I love this time of year The anticipation can be Better than the real thing It’s exciting, it fills my Soul with joy Yes, I love this…

Poetry: A Safety Valve by Ian Copestick

I keep being told that people findMy poetry depressing, or grim. To me they just don’t get it. As I write these poems I get high, it takesThe sadness out of me. It’s like  lancingA boil, after I’ve finished any sadnessHas gone. I am dancing again lighterThan air. Skipping the streets a smileOn my face.If…

Poetry: Not Just Yet by Ian Copestick

It’s days like today, when you realise That all of your big, grand poetic thoughts Mean nothing, less than nothing. In the workaday world where men Are paid for using their muscles Your poetic theories don’t mean shit You’re not going to have an interview for A warehouse job where the boss Suddenly says ”…

Poetry:The Big Fight by Ian Copestick

I was re-reading ” Big Sur ” tonight And I noticed that I’m the same age As Kerouac was when he died. I’ve got to say That it scared the shit out of me. I’ve written a fraction of what he has But I guess I’ve probably drank as much Alcohol, and taken a hell…

2 Poems by Ian Copestick

 Why Is It Always Me? Why, oh why does everything seem to go wrong ? Other people’s lives look so ordered And seem to run so smoothly. Mine is like a house where I’m trying to keep The roof up with only two walls And the wind is blowing like mad. I wonder if their…

3 Poems by Tissy Taylor

Masquerade of Peace   In crevices and creases lonely breeds Worn like pulled yarn stretched tautly at the seams Fluttered remnants of wishes hoping to land like an unfettered breeze she can’t see   Emptied Hope, her golden chalice lay bare Vibrant the mask she wears, painted fear The depth of sorrow unyielding, beating heart dancing…