Daily Archives: November 11, 2018

Tijuana Couple, by Kushal Poddar

I am not a silent poet

A couple in Tijuana
snowballs depression.
..
Their daughter just flies over
the furthest tower,
over the border.
..
The thing about the pigeons is
they have old man hidden
in their voice and they look like babies.
..
A snowball in Tijuana
exchanges two kinds of mindlessness.
,.
.
Kushal Poddar has been featured amongst the poets for the month December by Tupelo Press, Vine Leaves Literary Journal’s Best of 2014. He presently lives at Kolkata and is the editor of the online magazine ‘Words Surfacing’. He authored ‘The Circus Came To My Island’ (Spare Change Press, Ohio), “A Place For Your Ghost Animals” (Ripple Effect Publishing, Colorado Springs), “Understanding The Neighborhood” (BRP, Australia), “Scratches Within” (Barbara Maat, Florida), “Kleptomaniac’s Book of Unoriginal Poems”  (BRP, Australia) and “Eternity Restoration Project, New And Selected Poems” (Hawakal Publishers, India)

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Widow’s Dues, by Kathryn Alderman

I am not a silent poet

*For Bridget

The fat cheque lands like a lardy cat hogging the doormat.
Twenty years too late to de-louse the babbies,
or rumble the glacier shoring up the scullery wall.
..
There’ll be coal fired tonight, like cracked black eggs,
a toast raised with the Black Stuff, for his lungs
soused in Passchendaele gas. Still. Finally.
..
No cheers for her pay spent like fags, Tommy-the-hero’s trauma
cured in ale, kids hid in the kahzi at his carousing
Two Lovely Black Eyes down the Brummagem back-to-backs.

For this, she left salmon silver-backing up the Moy,
Brent Geese overwintering in raw Killala Bay.
Blood money she says, her wages of war.

..

Kathryn Alderman is widely published online and in print, including: Amaryllis, Atrium, Bonnie’s Crew, Eye Flash Poetry Journal, Good Dadhood, I Am Not a Silent Poet, Ink, Sweat & Tears, The Canon’s Mouth and she won Canon Poets’ ‘Sonnet…

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Poppies, by Lesley Quayle

I am not a silent poet

here is the red –
of blood (obvious),
of hearts slashed open
like keening mouths,
of landscape wearing
the going down
of the sun,
here is the sap,
staunched too early
and the half opened bud,
tooth and claw (old story),
hell’s architecture
of fire
and angels burning,
embers
in never to-be-harvested fields.

..

Lesley Quayle is a widely published, prize-winning poet, currently living in Dorset. A former editor of Aireings magazine, she is now a co-founder and editor, along with Stella Wulf, of 4Word poetry press.

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