Poetry Corner
falling
PETE DONOHUE
there’s a drone in my ear
firing bullets at me
if it does drop a bombshell
i’ll die like a bee
my legs in the air
my head on the ground
the rest of me floating
through space & through time
in a soup of confusion
with war crime spice
when loved ones go mourning
to fall on my grave
the death toll at dawn
calls thousands the same
all over ukraine…
The Belfry in Winter
VERNON KEITH FOWLER
The belfry tower in winter is very cold.
The paraffin heater has little or no effect.
Those who would ring here must be brave and bold
Or unconcerned about their health being wrecked.
Recklessly we climb the spiral steps.
Valiantly we pull upon the ropes.
We exercise our arms with many reps
And with a bulldog spirit each one copes.
The treble’s going. Yes, the treble’s gone.
The other bells ring out in hot pursuit.
How orderly each ringer follows on.
Let not the tenor or the bass be mute!
The rounds are rung, once more the ropes are tied.
We’ve borne the battle, bloody but unbowed.
The cold is not a thing from which we hide
For we are English. We will not be cowed.
Ode to a Seagull
MATTHEW ALEXANDER GIBB
Hate crime and chips rail against you
Like the moon in the sea you see me
Do what you want, just take it.
All heaven’s enraged if not free.
Kick, scratch, scream, survivor.
Sirens and shouts, smack, the sea
Come back, go up-down, sideways
Salty lardons and whelks for your tea.
Cold killer eyed-up from a distance
Misunderstood, on the edge of a dream.
You do what I can’t – god I love you
Live raw and soar for ice cream.
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