I Have Something to Say About Crochet, by Carla Scarano D’Antonio

I have something to say about crochet

I was trained by my mother
when I was only 5 or 6
and could make granny squares and doilies
with tiny hooks and bright cotton.

She taught me how to chain first,
I made long ones coiling around my feet.
Then double crochet, treble, half treble, double treble.
They developed in patterns,
in things to use and wear.
Can you believe there are people who don’t value such a work?

The long solitary confinement of lockdown
required emergency.
I intensified my crochet work,
survival was suffused with the rituals of choosing the thread,
matching the colours, developing patterns
and creating something I felt.

How to break the sadness of isolation?
How to heal the unhappiness of lost social cohesion?
The thrill of creation, the minutiae of the stitches
were extra revelations.
I shivered with recovery.

Carla Scarano D’Antonio obtained her MA in Creative Writing at Lancaster University and has published her creative work in magazines and reviews. Her short collection Negotiating Caponata was published in July 2020. She was awarded a PhD on Margaret Atwood’s work at the University of Reading in April 2021.
http://www.carlascaranod.co.uk/

 

The Poem that Got Me Cancelled, by Daragh Byrne


Daragh Byrne is an Irish poet writing in Sydney, Australia. He has had work published in various journals and newspapers, and his poems have been commended or placed in numerous competitions in Ireland and Australia. He runs The Sydney Poetry Lounge, a long-running open mic night.

 

Something Fishy . . . By Carole Donaldson

This is what culminated from a brief encounter at Sainsbury’s. It took five minutes to make up a rhyme about the extremely brief dalliance, but I think I had a close shave and dodged a bullet, yet unfortunately if the guy hadn’t been in such a hurry to ‘get his leg over’ we could have made fine music together, but I’m pleased that I usually always go with my gut feeling about things, and this guy was far too forward for comfort. Shame, really, he wasn’t bad looking but he let his mouth run away with him.

SOMETHING FISHY …

I met a man, while out shopping, at the salmon counter,
he came over quite suave and quite slick,
a few weeks on from that chance encounter,
he turned out to be naught but a fanciful dick

He kissed me and hugged me the minute we met
So charming – he addressed me “Dear Madam”
But how familiar is it right for a stranger to get
When I didn’t even know him from Adam

We exchanged our phone numbers and as days went by
I waited to hear from this Casanova
But I’d text and then wait but get no reply
So before it begun, it was practically over

He finally rang and arranged that we meet
His excuse for no contact? He preferred not to text
We went for a coffee on a posh market street
Where he wasted no time saying how much he loved sex

Well, I was appalled and quite taken aback
It was far too soon to be talking that way
But he took me to lunch, at Kings Road Seafood Shack
And when the huge bill came, he was happy to pay

(80 quid’s-worth of food was devoured that day)

Though we chatted at lunch and duly both laughed
With the same sense of humour we shared
I got a bad vibe and I thought myself daft
I could’ve been an old boot and I don’t think he’d’ve cared.

He mentioned the sex thing again I had noted
He clearly had his own agenda
He was quite up front, not a thing sugar-coated
And showed himself up to be a pretender

This encounter has taught me to be somewhat wary
This chap had manners like a pen full of swine
His ulterior motives can seem somewhat scary
But in truth that’s his problem, and certainly not mine

It’s been over a week now and he’s disappeared
At his hinted intentions, I told him where to go
Asking if I was adventurous – far too forward I feared
And on that score the arse’ole will now never know

 

Too Many Straights, by Claire Duthie

There are too many straights on telly
The situation has really got very silly
And out of hand
Wny don’t you understand?

There’s far too much prancing
On strictly come dancing

Wny wallow in the mire
And watch ” married at first sight?”
It really, really is dire.

Lionel Blair
Is no longer there

Mayday, maidez
Paul O Grady

Heaven help us
Russell T Davies

 

Frames, by Eddie Gibbons

FRAMES

He met her at the Art Gallery.

Made eyes at her
across a Caravaggio.

Saw her framed against a Miro.

Watched her glide along
an avenue of Monets.

She saw him standing
like a prick
between two Pollocks.

Published in ‘The Republic of Ted’, Thirsty Books, Edinburgh, 2003.

Eddie Gibbons has six published poetry collections. ‘What They Say About You’ was shortlisted for the ‘Scottish Poetry Book of the Year’, 2011. He was a prizewinner in the inaugural ‘Edwin Morgan Poetry Competition’, 2008. He has a poem in the Bloodaxe anthology ‘Land of Three Rivers’. Twitter- @1Eddie_Gibbons

 

Oh Me!, by beam

Oh Me!
I am a soggy biscuit
I am murking
at the bottom
of your
mug

I am a sang-widge
you thought you threw away…
a Summer ago

I am a surprise from a stranger
who’s known to the Gardaí
you didn’t wear your glasses
you thought I was waving
but I was wanking

beam is a 26 year old poet from Ireland. She has participated in workshops led by Kevin Higgins, read at Galway City’s Literary Organisation event ”Over The Edge” and has been published in Cabinet Of Heed, Broadsheet.ie, Impspired, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Spilling Hot Cocoa Over Martin Amos, WordCityLit, Ink Sweat and Tears & Open Skies. Recent work includes; surviving the pandemic and several disappointing sourdough loaves. She is becoming the kind of person who says the things you ”aren’t supposed to say”. You can find more of her poetry @personalbeam on instagram.

 

From the Rag, by Christian Scully

From the Rag

Time drags as the barmans rags wipes another stain away from the bar top Feelingas though the clocks have all but stopped and the hourglass sand or the biggest hand are heading backward
Its funny how stood here in this palace of beer church to excess as tobacco laden breath requests another and sings a sad lament Cursing them who lurk on borders them past into obscurity and them who are royally fucking up the country whilst doing their best as you see… its complicated

Bleary eyed hobbling from pint to pint to bookies and back handing over scrunched up notes pulled from grubby back pockets as there lips smack down the sweet nectar.
Straightening ties telling the same lies how its just a quick one on the way to the office when we both know they will be back tomorrow.
Hearing grumbles and strife about distant kids and ex wives after pint after pint after pint
Some starting early
or some continuing
a perpetual night out that
they can never bare to end

Best mates at breakfast become bastards by lunch
as they are too drunk to stand let alone throw a punch
but then its all just a part of the carbon copied institution once known as a pub
Where now they serve kiddies and professionals grub
whist in the corner they lurk
all crude gestures and smirks
till its time to wobble back to bed
rest their red faced weary heads
grab a sarnie
grab a kip
buy the paper
and repeat

 

Iona walk of shame, by Jay Whittaker

Iona walk of shame

No minister
I did not leave
my sodden knickers
on the rocks
after semi-skinny dipping
on the Sabbath

that must have been some other pilgrim.
But there is learning here –
wet black pants
look just like kelp
strewn across a rock.

Jay Whittaker lives and works in Edinburgh. Her debut poetry collection Wristwatch (Cinnamon Press) was the Scottish Poetry Book of the Year (Saltire Society Literary Awards) 2018. Her second collection, Sweet Anaesthetist, (also Cinnamon Press) was published in 2020. Jay is widely published, including two poems in the recent Bloodaxe anthology, Staying Human. www.jaywhittaker.uk / @jaywhittapoet

 

What is a marriage?, by Bridget Hynes Murphy

What is a marriage?
A marriage is the strangest thing
It’s really not that clever
To squeeze two folks together
And tell them it’s forever
The first few months of wedded bliss Are really like a dream
You walk together hand in hand
A handsome, youthful team
But then reality comes to stay
And he never plans to go
Just like the one you married
The one you really didn’t know
You fight over the dishes
Or who got two hours sleep
You wasted all your wishes
On this Prince Charming what a creep But then he does the kindest thing
He let’s you sleep in late
He changes baby’s nappy
And tells you, you look great!
He stands beside you in your darkest hour He’ll gently squeeze your hand
As you say goodbye to one you love
And softly you will land
The years go by as they always do
Time, it never stops
Your lovers hair gets greyer
But you think he still looks hot

Now you’re hot too
But its not the same
Your flushes are mean and sweaty
Hes aging like some fine wine
But you’re feeling like a yeti
Then he takes you home and sits you down
Hands you a glass of wine
I don’t care how hot you get
I’m just glad you’re mine!
If time rewound this minute Would you still pick me?
I would indeed my darling For your love has set me free.

 

Attitude to Life, by Nancy Tully

When I was young and told to mend my ways
Because I was turning my mother’s hair grey

WHO ME? I DON’T HAVE AN ATTUTUDE PROBLEM

Just take a look around today
It happens in a similar way

WHO ME? I DON’T HAVE AN ATTUTUDE PROBLEM

As we progress through life
We are always giving someone strife

WHO ME? I DON’T HAVE AN ATTUTUDE PROBLEM

See that queue, well I’ll push to the front
If anyone complains, I’ll be blunt

WHO ME? I DON’T HAVE AN ATTUTUDE PROBLEM

If someone is helpful and kind to me
Do I feel I have to return that kindness? NOT ME!

WHO ME? I DON’T HAVE AN ATTUTUDE PROBLEM

I’ll drive my car so close behind yours
Do I really care about an accident and the laws?

WHO ME? I DON’T HAVE AN ATTUTUDE PROBLEM

I don’t need to drive with my seatbelt on
I don’t care if it’s right or wrong

WHO ME? I DON’T HAVE AN ATTUTUDE PROBLEM

If you drive through town at night
I’ll just walk right out and give you a fright

WHO ME? I DON’T HAVE AN ATTUTUDE PROBLEM

My children are so precious to me
When they are in the car they stand so they can see

WHO ME? I DON’T HAVE AN ATTUTUDE PROBLEM

And so we go on through our lives
Without a care and full of jibes

WHO ME? I DON’T HAVE AN ATTUTUDE PROBLEM

So when are we going to show people we care
I would like to think we could all be a little more fair

WHO ME? I DO HAVE AN ATTITUDE PROBLEM