Daily Archives: September 28, 2015

Carolyn Batcheler

Writers for Calais Refugees


He stood, waiting in the cold. He was cold to the core of his bones, cold so he had ceased to feel his feet for, well he just couldn’t remember for how long. He looked down at his fingers to check that they were still there. There were others before him in the line but he was moving slowly towards his goal. He had waited all night as he didn’t want to loose his place, gradually a few folk ahead of him had fallen away and he had moved forward. At one point the guy behind him had fallen asleep, upright with his head on his shoulder. He’d pushed him away and then felt bad when he heard him fall to the ground. It was a guaranteed way to loose your place in the queue. There was a wave of hope that passed along as the morning light began…

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For Those Offended by War by Antony Owen

I am not a silent poet

For those offended by war who fill their cars with petrol
look at highways of clouds we made from Kabul to Catterick
and drive home knowing these roads won’t swallow you whole,
drive home safe in the knowledge that your Mum’s annoying phone call
will be over after twenty minutes of banal conversation about Christmas dinner –
how the beef was too bloody in Marco Pierre Whites and how cack it was for the money.
For those offended by war, when parents cry on polished prams
do not say they died for nothing then have something to do in peace
whilst meanwhile a Mother is staring into space and hoping there is a heaven
where mist smells of blown tobacco and the chilli con carne she made him before
he went off to war is still warm like the shape of his Ma’s red lipstick welded to his cheekbones.

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letter to a friend 6

sonja benskin mesher

letter to a friend 6

~ 21 & writing alone ~

I used to write alone.

gradual public appearance,
now slowly and slowly.

yet after whiles,
i can write in public, in plas newydd
and places, places.

people talk , enquire, join
in the general converstaion.

when people are dying, others
fret over the little
things, that
should not matter.

i know. i did.

new place, new faces.

i am enjoying projects
regarding love letters,
never sent, to be sent.

i am smaller now, slightly brown,
enjoying the things i do.

treasure your friendship,
however difficult.

i wish i could start again, some times,
be a traveller, enquire on new things,
yet there may be time.

enjoy your exhibition,
viewing, tell me of it.

when you are settled,
i may come.


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