Category Archives: Poetry

After the pandemic 1

“I will arise and go now” Yeats W.B Innisfree             When it’s finally all finished, I dream of heading North Where the wild winds aren’t diminished Where the oceans swirl and roar Where the white … Continue reading →

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When The Morning Comes

Written and spoken by Myrna Moore   Clouds mass Birds swoop Catching the last of the last seeds from the tree People group Some stare Wondering what could be Could be different From now? They did not see They did … Continue reading →

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You could say…

You could say: ‘They came, they saw, they conquered’ but that would not explain how they survived how they thrived Goodbye Farewell So long… bright light skies until… New skies grey – fog – smog drizzle Closed shores ‘No Irish, … Continue reading →

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Bluebells

Beating to a different rhythm Listen The earth is breathing In Out In Out Trees steady their stance Branches quiver A pregnant pause Betwixt and between Creeping along the path A blue haze beckons As it stitches a luxuriant Curtain … Continue reading →

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Umbilicus

I rise, a latter-day Phoenix, trailing thunder and acetylene flame in my wake, aimed at the broad acres of Heaven. Star traveller, space nomad, technology’s bright archangel, I will fly into God’s blinding eye, the blue eye of genesis. The … Continue reading →

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A Perfect Storm

For days the ocean has unleashed its ire, a frenzy born of elemental spite – winds have raged that will not cease or tire till all’s consumed in endless, blackest night. The waves break fiercely on the rocks, and spray … Continue reading →

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Aubade – Mourning

Cold and alone The nights without you are long Dawn, like my heart, breaks. Terry Wassall

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Frenzy Rocket Song

Come to see Drakkula! But Mamma I can’t, I’m suffering from jaundice, And I’ve bought a nuclear plant. I’m belting out volcanic punk, Spiked with grit and gore. I’m wedded hard to my guitar, And there’s dancing on the floor. … Continue reading →

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Aubade haiku

Break in, bright daybreak through dark windows, take my hand on my dawn dancefloor Rosie Cantrell

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Sunlit Interiors

Tiny orb of light that in my hand grows, I chide you as if you were a child, You come with lynx-and-eagle eyes To help me summer-clean my house. You burn inside my head with freezing fire, And though I … Continue reading →

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