Faither

Half way down the ward,
Clinically cushioned.
A husk of a man.
Inert.
Post operative psychosis
They called it.
But where was he?
This world or another?
Deep, deep down inside
Clutching at wisps of fleeting knowledge,
In pursuit of his being.
In this world.

© Helen McIntosh

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Eden

The garden is liquid gold

streaming along glossy

leaves, drenched in light,

green  underwater chamber,

my womb, my ignorance.

Suddenly, I look down,

the mirror of my blotchy flesh,

the creases, crevices.

Then up into the

azure sky.

  

Where else can I look

to ask my question,

Why?

© Valerie Taylor

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What's wrong with me?

I haven't got a phobia, an -algia or a hernia,

nor yet a simple complex to bewail so they can cure yer.

My feet were pretty grotty once but they've been chopped and changed,

I'm really fully better - though the dog is quite deranged.

So when the general boasting starts I just sit still and stumm

and listen while the whinges go cavorting round the room.

I shake my head and smile and tut and quietly sip my tea

because I never ever can decide: what is there wrong with me?

© Sheila Rogers

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FEELINGS

I am thinking of your eyes looking into mine

The pair of emeralds that truly make me pine

My thoughts then wander to your golden hair

I imagine your golf club swinging through the air

Today I woke to see the springtime snow-drops glisten

Do I hear the softness of your voice; do I really listen

Is that your breath; so soft as only I can feel

I smile…for I am feeling everything; not least your zeal

 I even feel the purr and gentleness of your snoring

And laugh… for life with you is never, ever boring

In truth, you were in my mind throughout last night

Again I had those special feelings…so right; so right

To some a break away may be very well

To others it’s a cause for pining, and only they can tell

© Kenneth Campbell

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THE QUESTION

When he popped the question on his bended knee

A reply was anticipated with certainty & glee

This early morning gesture that was so very strong

Merely prompted a terse comment about the Seagulls’ throng

So beware of a question that might not hoist the sail

Disappointment is the only message from this thorny tale

© Kenneth Campbell

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The Question

Stumped.

“Guys, let’s unpack this question...”

The keen and the stupid put up their hands to guess. Mr Middlebrow, palms down, tried to contain curiosity mistaken for adulation. Later he would boast of his pupils’ problem solving strategies.

The answer is in your fat head, thought Carl. Just teach me.

© Tim Scott
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Same place, same street, same house

Swirling swooping returning

homing in on home

riding currents,

watching shadows

sun pointing

moonlit way

guiding

them back each year

same place, same street, same house,

same neat and tidy nest

like me they are returning

knowing safe will be there

knowing there will be safe

our blind faith rewarded

© Liz Redfern

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The Reverend Jim Jones.

"I am the truth: come follow me."

"To where, Lord Jim?"

"To Guyanese forests lush with peace and light, to live and love as one, each one with me.

There is a better life. Come, follow me."

"Yes, oh yes."

"Together we'll transcend the mire in glorious sui-cyanide."

"Amen, Lord Jim."

  

© Sheila Rogers. May 2013

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The question

was not, “Are you willing to take me out?”

nor, “Are you inclined to come with me?”

 “I’ll take you if you want to go”

is not an answer.  Neither is,

“I’m happy to.”

That’s not what I asked you.

 “Do you, or don’t you, want to? 

Yes?  Or no?”

© Sophia Roberts

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