there are so many who don't even have to try
born to be social butterflies
they've got friday night hearts
and party light eyes
crafted from pure sunshine
their words are glitter laced
and their smiles warm and inviting
born with swift tongues
and dancing feet

then there are those
born to the world of nature and art
they've got sunday morning hearts
and stars in their eyes
crafted from pure moonlight
their words laced with daisies and moonflowers
crooked smiles and rosy cheeks
born with clumsy tongues
and two left feet

- so, which are you? a soul crafted by the sun or the moon?

When you and I met
we were two new souls
already rotted with the years that had been prematurely pushed onto us.
We were already so empty of life
so jaded and hopeless.
The feeling of knowing just how bad it is
but needing to keep quiet had already plagued us for too many years.
When you and I met
I thought you were arrogant and cruel
you thought I was apathetic and content.
All the late night conversations
the confessions of traumas and thoughts
the people out there who just wanted to take advantage of our seeming naivety
made us each other’s closest allies.
But the world is cruel
and it forced you out
all the uncountable hours
I had spent talking to you
the inside jokes and the utmost secrets
out the window
more like off the bridge.
You saw the world through warped glasses
twisting everything into an ugly blur.
There were times when you were almost lost
but you reached out just in time to be pulled along.
I say that I could never know the way you felt
but oh how I felt your beautiful consciousness extinguish that evening when I heard the news
read your last work as a writer
the last line of your personal story.
All I can tell you is this             sorry excuse for an apology
I used you just like the rest of us did
you were the reason that I’ve lived this long
maybe if we’d never met
never shared our inner workings
you would still be here and I’d be coating the bottom of the overpass.
Now that I know I couldn’t help you, a goddess compared to my filth
what meaning does my life still have
I’ve never been this emotional about a death
they’re all so predictable and ordinary
just another horrible person lost, swimming in the Styx
But this time you’ve pulled me into the water with you.

I don't ride a Harley. Do you?
I have no need for ingots or ketchups. Have you?
I'm atheist. Are you a believer?
I'm in the body. Are you marginalized?
I respect LGBTQ. Are you in and out of your body?
I have a NEXUS. Do you have a country?
Good thing the air and sunshine have no borders.
It's not about me.
It's about us.

The wife and I have packed our bags,

  going our separate ways.

We'll hug and kiss each other tomorrow morning,

try not to show the strain.


Thirty years of married bliss,

now it has come to this.

I know I can be difficult,

It's just my Irish ways.


I always blame the Famine, or the bad old,

Imperial British days.

But it's my own fault, claustrophobia,

I can't take the Plane.


  I'm catching the Ferry,

and tomorrow evening ,I'll meet her,

when she gets off the Plane,

We  booked two  weeks in Menorca,

our holiday in the sun, no rain.


By Holly Barrett

I come from sunlight,
      The sweeping of leaves,
      South London streets,
      Lurburnum seeds;
      Hot semolina,
      A spoonful of jam,
      Hands full of gooseberries,
      That's who I am.

      I come from rose petals,
      The sound of the fairs,
      The smell of candyfloss
      Mist in the air;
      I come from warmth,
      My parents hands,
      Outings to parks,
      Both small and grand.

     I come from knowledge,
     True and false,
     From nursery rhymes,
     And stories and pictures of God;
     I come from gentleness,
     A quiet afternoon,
     From visions of loveliness,
     Sewn on a spool.

    I come from two worlds,
    With different ways,
    A threaded pearl necklace,
    And sensible soles
    A mother and father,
    I think I knew,
    I came and I wandered,
    I looked at the view.

       By Mary **