Speak Other Voices
(The last Poetry Now Festival, Dun Laoghaire, March 2011)
Speak other voices
From other mouths,
Mouths that shape the language
Of other countries, other lives.
We know nothing about each other
But we know these words -
The ones that makes the sssss
The ones that make the oooos –
The suck and pull of sibilants
The essence of the vowels
The soft touch of emotion
The sucker puncher verbs
The humour and the sorrow
Self-deprecating veins
The quick flick of an eyebrow
The slow burn of the page.
We are always, always watching
And listening for the sign.
Here, we find the signals everywhere
Their words, your words, are mine.
© Helena Nolan
Heaney wins 'Irish Times' poetry award
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Helena Nolan's poems and short stories have appeared in a number of anthologies and literary magazines including; The Stinging Fly, Abridged and The Moth, as well as on the Spoken Ink audio website and The Guardian Poetry Workshop. Last year she was shortlisted for Strokestown, runner up in the Fish poetry competition and came second in the Patrick Kavanagh Award. She holds an MA in Creative Writing from UCD (2008).
The Hawkesbury Hills are mysterious
as reflections on this terminating year.
Mists freed from the clutch of belong
eddy and tease
blur edges of truth.
The dreariness
where sex between consenting adults
is front page news.
There's nothing to soothe the soul of discontent,
the burgeoning belief that nothing
ever will get better
as resources drain to puddles
with ever increasing need.
Space dwindles,
contracting to make more room fit in it.
There's little left for creatures
condensed to extinction, the weather
is full force extreme leaving destruction.
Religion and sport our primary halos
make us believe there is worth in their worship
they're icons that keep nations focused
and both should be sainted as
beacons of reason for why we are here.
With television as mentor
we learn what to eat, how to appear,
to wear pretence as a veil
of itself and believe it is real.
and now we cannot touch children
must warn them always to be afraid,
to play outside has dire warnings
enclosed they socialise on their computer.
If as is said, witchery survives, cover your hair
red heads will again become victims of fire
from lack of comprehension.
© Susan Adams
We had sex on Premier's desk: waitress
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Susan Adams is an Australian poet who has been published in anthologies, online and print literary journals both in Australia and internationally. She has been read on ABC Radio National 'Poetica', All in The Mind' and '360'. Recent publications have included Eureka Street, Nth Position (UK), Great Works (UK), Eclecticism, Sugarmule (USA), Bacopa (USA), Hecate, Social Alternatives.
Ghosts of past plagues
Swarm between the words
Of printed paragraphs
Portraying pariahs in military boots.
Soles imprinted
Into cracked foreheads and
blood stained soil
Front page black and white
By morning halogen overhead
Lamp light.
Rise, fire drenched slogans
Burn in the shadows
Of oil field infernos!
March down streets pock marked
And scarred
the face of a nation
Scathed and battered at dawn,
Awaken.
On the television screen
Another dictator’s eyes
Attempt to glow omnipotent
Covering up an exasperated impotence
the morning news rattles on
the weatherman shares his forecast
a chance of democracy
with partial clouds
and intermittent showers of bombs.
Protestors take to the streets
A revolutionary sunrise
While western nations scramble eggs
And wonder about capital gains.
Imported coffee brews in the pot
Steam rises and escapes,
while yet another nation swipes
the butter knife blade
back and forth
across the aching neck of another
slice of toasted regime.
© Joshua Baumgarten
Libya: Allied air strikes secure Misrata for rebels
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Joshua Baumgarten is an ex-pat New Yorker living in Holland. He organises the Irrational Library evenings - nights of poetry, rock n roll and casual chaos, and performs as a Standup Spoken Word artist.
Dear Liz,
I saw you at the Roxy,
You autographed my heart.
After that, I chased you,
Through Raintree County
And straight across William's
Hot tin roof.
Suddenly, last summer,
You were the bridesmaid
Once again.
Butterfield 8
Was worth the wait.
I left you in your prime,
Long before RB
For the second time.
Take five,
Your life is in the can.
Sincerely yours,
From the edge of my seat
…a fan.
© Martin Hodges
Dame Elizabeth Taylor dies at the age of 79
Ol' Davey's a chubby-cheeked cowboy
And the common folks all love a war;
Teach them Ayrabs a lesson right now, boy
And show 'em respect for the law.
Them Ayrabs was fussin' and sassin'
They showed no respect for the Man;
While the Chinks and the Rooskies was gassin',
Ol' Dave had to do what he can.
The Colonel was shootin' and foamin'
And poundin' folks into the sand;
Till Dave moseyed out of the gloamin'
And showed where the righteous folks stand.
Ol' Dave wasn't one for the throwin'
Of stones that was first to be cast;
But a man's gotta make a good showin',
So he give all them Ayrabs a blast.
Ol' Davey he done did the doin's,
The Colonel was righteously vexed;
Them Ayrabs they stood in the ruins
Sayin' what the hell do we do next?
Them Ayrabs they now are confessin'
This ain't an ideal situation,
But ol' Davey's taught 'em a lesson:
Don't let cowboys build you a nation.
© Philip Challinor
Libya: military action necessary, legal and right, says David Cameron
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Weblog: The Curmudgeon - You'll come for the curses. You'll stay for the mudgeonry.
Books: Philip Challinor's Books
dim sun behind heavy curtain, mist
field sparkles with dew, river Ruairi
rushes to the sea, chimes the wind
moist air traces an oriental smile
On the other side,
talking to the swelled up moon
thousands of bodies washed to shore
people who have little donating food,
t-shirts, nappies to help the trapped
Here I do follow this morning land
as long as allowed – too aware
how precious - and eternal the smiles
© Csilla Toldy
Japan will overcome crisis - IAEA
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Csilla's stories and poetry have appeared in The Black Mountain Review, Southword, Fortnight, Poetry Monthly, and Strictly Writing Award. For more information, visit the website: Csilla Toldy
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