all of the places I knew in childhood even the ones which made me sad. it is vases of lily - orange pollen sticky, and ruinous of cotton dresses. raised voices and early bedtimes, late nights, waiting for her dark eyes to return. it is the time I have passed with you - sunflower majesty … Continue reading Home is
I play hide and seek with myself: concealed behind bed sheets, curtains and the lines drawn in childish crayon across my face. I giggle in the darkness then trace the oyster edges of my bones in the mirror - whisper “I am still here.” Here, despite the fact you rest your head against my back … Continue reading Object Permanence
"stepping boldly and bravely / into the glaring unknown."[Floodlights] Moonglow on Mercy Street is John Biscello's newest poetry collection which reflects on the past year and showcases Biscello's wondrous talent for poetry and storytelling. Part one of this collection is beautifully kind to the reader: 'bless your broken softly' [How the Light Gets In]. 'Birthing … Continue reading Advance Review of Moonglow on Mercy Street, John Biscello
All The Things I Never Said by Jennie Louise is a short, personal collection of poetry exploring relationships with family, lovers, strangers and the self. The illustrations by Gina Stavrou complement the pieces gorgeously as Louise reminisces and pines for the past as well as the present in beautifully nostalgic pieces. 'To family' opens with … Continue reading Review of All The Things I Never Said, Jennie Louise
"the world will feel too tight - the skin of a peachabout to burst." [For Louise] These lines from Feroze’s poem,‘For Louise’, from her debut collection The Colour of Hope beautifully and evocatively summarise the collective experience of people across the globe, this year. ‘For Louise’ spoke of a universal hope which the Foreword of … Continue reading Advance review of The Colour of Hope, Jen Feroze
after Kait Quinn The girl, the husk powdery to touch, frightened of fear and the secrets it keeps. The awe in my eyes when I see you, stitched in the elegant bow of willow trees. Love and beauty, the kingdom of frost melting into mid-july, the childhood of us. The begging, words thick with dust, … Continue reading What are you letting go of?
she meant sometimes the trees seem to whisper every name but yours, and the bluetits titter as the sun rises and sets each day as if mocking your inability to make anyone smile; or the lack of warmth you feel even within your own bones. She meant sometimes love is too short and too sudden; … Continue reading When Sara Bareilles sung ‘she is lonely most of the time’:
My mind, the corner I have kept for you has become a shrine I no longer wish to visit yet heed and pray before each night. My prayers are not gifts nor sweet nothings; they are not even prayers. They are misshapen thoughts, ounces of love without weight. There is nothing for me here anymore … Continue reading Ghosts in black coats
Moonlight shimmers across cobbled courts and Notre-Dame stands stoic in silence; omniscient and omnipotent, stained-glass eyes watching the Seine move beneath the twinkle of stars, the Eiffel Tower and the streets. Men with roses harangue tourists, but we are all seventeen and this is no time to love like strangers at midnight, our bellies full … Continue reading Paris, 2011.
after Jericho Brown When people ask when I first began to write, I think of the walls I first ran my greasy fingers along. The homes I would never call my own but would be called home by everyone who knew me. I knew the walls though - the peeling paint and the damp. I … Continue reading A poem is a gesture toward home