Veronica Von Pegg is a mixed media artist, a photographer and writer, who expresses a past life through images and words. She collects second hand items, and is a firm believer in reincarnation.
Charlie Brown is Sad
Charlie Brown needs a slap to bring him to his senses
dragging his baseball mitt through the snow
like a reanimated, headless rabbit on an A road
I can’t be doing with your black cloud Charlie Brown
It’s all me, me, me with you, you, you
little sad American boy with Christmas in blue
Walking across my television like a headache
Your pumpkin shaped head haunting all my bulbuls.
I have tinsel and paper chains to hang in the hall
I have a child in thrall to Argos tat
I have a fuck-off turkey to baste and bake
elderly to ferry, carpets to shake and vac
This is no such thing as good grief, Charlie Brown,
But a fuckety-fuck you! should bring you round.
Andrew McDonnell has published various poems in various places and is a director of Gatehouse Press and steering editor of Lighthouse Literary Journal. He is working in his first collection
A Heap of Broken Images
After T.S. Eliot and Robert Smithson
Rob Stuart is a media studies lecturer, filmmaker and light verse enthusiast living in Surrey. In addition to Ink, Sweat and Tears he has contributed poems to Light (USA), Lighten Up Online, Magma, New Statesman, The Oldie, The Spectator and SnakeskinRead More
Chris Guidon is a confessional artist and poet from Kidderminster. Like a snake he needs sunshine to live.Read More
Love is the sea
I cling to you, my arms around your neck;
let the water take the weight, you tell me.
Michaela Ridgway lives in Brighton. Her magazine credits include Magma, Other Poetry, Orbis, The Frogmore Papers, Purple Patch, The Ghazal Page, Obsessed with Pipework & Moodswing. She hosts the monthly Pighog Press poetry night at the Redroaster http://www.pighog.co.uk/events/index.html
The Invisible Banquet
Sip on the sun, trapped
under the bridge
poached and runny as an egg.
Chew on the beech leaves
red, plump and leathery
like tomatoes, sun dried
and clinging to the riverbed.
Crunch on young shoots of reeds
buttered by ripples
like spring asparagus spears.
Nibble on the willow
like peppery rocket
dressed in olive oil
swimming in the sky.
Drink the bubbling foam
flowing from a pewter tankard
the colour of swan muscles.
Jason Howgate: ‘Mount Analogue is one of a series of paintings based on the River Hebden Water showing the river throughout the sessions. This image depicts summer. I wanted to show the many disorientating reflections that give an almost hallucinogenic feeling to the scene. I was also partly inspired by René Daumal’s novella Mount Analogue. “The door to the invisible must be visible.”
I have exhibited this painting in an earlier guise at the Albert Street Festival Gallery and in the Hebden Bridge Open studios.’ Mount Analogue, Blake DeanOil on canvas. 2012 (80cm x 120 cm)
Winston H.Plowes writes his words with two cats on a narrowboat on England’s inland waterways. His compositions have been widely published, hopefully making people pause and ponder the magical details of life. To find out more visit Winston’s website – www.winstonplowes.co.ukRead More
Simpson dingo girl
safe inside your canvas dreaming
of the red track westward across the dunes
the lean shape-shifter with toes of a dancer
foxtrots the fringe camp follower
nose to the north she takes the shape of
a desert grass spinifex dry
same pale yellow same drift as the wind
it’s then you daub the ochre the black
white for the star in the eye insinuate
a dark shadow minimal abstract perhaps
next morning the palette licked clean
Julie Maclean was born in Bristol, UK and now lives in Victoria, Australia. In 2012 shortlisted for The Crashaw Prize, (Salt). Her debut collection of poetry, When I saw Jimi, is out now from Indigo Dreams Publishing. Poetry appears in US and leading Australian and UK journals including The Best Australian Poetry (UQP). She blogs at at juliemacleanwriter.com
Simpson dingo girl first appeared in Rabbit (Aus) 2012Read More
is a common word. Don’t let your jaded mind
forget its purest derivations.
A topiary forest,
home of a hungry paradise,
a rotund heaven.
The round rind bed
on which a baby roundling sleeps
blanketed in ove leaves.
for there is no rain or snow;
without insects, snakes
Sugary rush from
feasting on melons
as middles grow.
Inheritance of seeds.
Bathing in honeysuckle streams.
When any sense of wrong
is swiftly righted by a twirl through
fields of wildflowers.
The Circular Interval
before Square Time.
like a watermelon lover.
C. Albert is based in Seattle, Washington. She is our resident artist and can be contacted through firstname.lastname@example.org.