Sunday, 29 September 2013

haiku by J D Nelson

the computer hums —
the black moth on the ceiling
has been there for hours

J D Nelson, Colorado, USA

Sunday, 22 September 2013

The Corner by Holly Day

the beetle in the
web clicks soft
in time to the spinning of its
body in the long arms of the spider
that has made its home in
the dark corner of
my office. it clicks
so regular I turn off my computer, my
desk clock to make sure it's
really him

the clicks speed up
when the spider
reaches out
with one long, pale
leg to spin
the trapped insect
another turn, they slow down
fade to near
silence whenever
the spider
pulls away

Holly Day, Minnesota, USA

Sunday, 15 September 2013

Ladybird, Ladybird by Alison Lock

I stop the sh sh across my page
to watch a squirrel nuzzle the ground
all auburn fuzz,  nose down
re- checking the co-ordinates
on a mental map for a nut called X
the shrubs wear their prettiest bonnets
of permed seed heads, legs
black stockinged from stalking
the late summer rains
the lawn has had its last trim of the year
concentric, whorled
shaved into an Italianate maze.
A four spotted ladybird comes to my sill
I lend her my pen for a bridge
I am curious
now there are six spots
two on the edge of her shell
as if about to fall off, and they do
with a shiver, she splits
into a pair of dash away wings
taking her back to her home.
I carry on with the sh sh across my page.

Alison Lock, UK

This poem is from Alison's collection  'A Slither of Air', published by Indigo Dreams Publishing

Sunday, 8 September 2013

Samara by Joseph Harker

Where did we
learn about gravity?
The playground--
but not from
Newton's apocryphal apple
plummeting to earth.

Our source was
September maple
gone slow gold,
the sunlight
preening the paper wings of
its whirligig seeds.

And since then,
the verb to fall is
less fearsome.
We learned it
as slow rotation; we don't
believe in impact.

Joseph Harker, USA

Sunday, 1 September 2013

Space Station Blues by Les Merton

in an interplanetary space station
with bustling pedestrian zones

he sits on his own in a buzz bar
drinking a glass of cloud nine nectar

it is an orange sky day
with smile impregnated air

he doesn’t respond
to the feel good waves

he’s thinks he is the loneliest man
in the universe and he’s feeling down

wondering will he ever hear
a language he can understand again

Les Merton, Cornwall, UK