Jane Pearn





arrives in a blink
lands light as a coat of dust
bounces on spindle legs
sharp glance around
dips head
neat stab at crumb of moving soil
tilts neck
bright berry eye
lace-strutted shoulders lift wings
flurry into hawthorn
blends with dapple
and chorus



Jane Pearn lives in the Scottish Borders.  She has two published poetry pamphlets. She was longlisted in the 2018 National Poetry Competition, and is one of the winners in the 2019 Guernsey International ‘Poems on the Move’ Competition.

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Phil Vernon





He rides a train
through slow flat land:
nothing to see
but horizon,

then wanders clumps of yellowed grass
and sand,
and sets a wounded beetle
on a stone.

With awkward clattering
a lone jackdaw
and takes its unexpected prey.

Sometimes he waits all week
for a metaphor,
then two – or more –
turn up in a day.



Phil Vernon’s poems have appeared in magazines, journals and websites. A micro-collection, This Quieter Shore, was published by Hedgehog in 2019, and a full collection is forthcoming from Sentinel www.philvernon.net/category/poetry.

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Julian Dobson




A Torteval greenhouse

You’d hardly think this structure could stay up.
A rabbit darts from bramble cover. There
should be first buds now, sun catching hairs
on shooting stems. A few years: thorns let rip,
squeezing the wooden frame left and right, glass
fracturing gently, or raised with the roof
as side panels bulge out. What once was craft
and care, ragged-star flowers and hoverflies,
has fruited falsely. What we sow we reap,
we’re told, but no-one planted this: it’s just
whittling entropy, dragging tide shifts, rust,
mildews and markets, costs always inching up.
Exhausted, we swapped harvest reds for cash:
what will survive of this? Perhaps a blush.



Julian Dobson lives in Sheffield. His poems have been published in various journals and on a bus in Guernsey.



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Sophia Nicholson




I didn’t really want you to touch me but I let you

It seemed polite.
Talk to me.
All my longings are floating

in front of your eyes. I want you
to have laser surgery to tell my needs
from my neuroses like pieces

of seaweed and washed
abalone. Maybe if you kissed
the back of my knee and whispered

I’d gleam more. Am I unlike
a hyena that eats til the blood’s
pouring down my cheeks? You act

like a mud runner but all I want
is for you to wash my feet
in sandalwood, tell me my opinions change

your worldview, stroke my face
as if it were your daughter’s. If you want
to do one last lap I won’t

say no. What spurs you on
to have sex with more
and more women?



Sophia Nicholson is a poet and songwriter from Hertfordshire. She is a member of Covent Garden Stanza and practises yoga.

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Joseph O’Callaghan





This is the last voice singing
my love has gone
my love has gone

to the great silence
of the animals and trees



Joseph O’Callaghan is a lawyer and poet, living in Shropshire, England.  Joseph participates in the Shrewsbury poetry group and sometimes reads his poetry in Birmingham. He has an MA in philosophy from St Andrews University.

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Brian Rihlmann




Brick by Brick

how tough a wall
you can build
from bubbles

they stack like bricks
and solidify
into something
you couldn’t break
with a sledgehammer

when you pick up the phone
the words are fewer

not flowing
a sponge
wrung to its last

they are tired, too
they get lazy
they limp with age
and overwork

or they slink away
and hide
ponder their betrayals

we grow more silent
as we prepare
for silence




Brian Rihlmann was born in New Jersey and currently resides in Reno, Nevada.  He has been published in Blognostics, Red Eft Review, Spillwords, Synchronized Chaos, Cajun Mutt Press, The Rye Whiskey Review, and others.

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Reuben Woolley




it’s cold outside & burning

worlds fall
you know


a sky a full
collection i made
& didn’t you sound
a sad & bitter i
said was there ever
a further mile or
other star

this is not
a final play
the oceans where
we hold the fibre

mother cells adapt
easy said da vinci
& rising a man all
geometrical & i
don’t know how to write
these broken words this cataract

& black

a space

i didn’t find

repeats come on say
repeat an end

an end

the end

bye bye





Reuben Woolley has been published in quite a few magazines such as Tears in the FenceLighthouseThe Interpreter’s House, the anthology, The Dizziness of FreedomInk Sweat & TearsProletarian PoetryAnd Other Poems, The Otolith, and The Poet’s Shed. He has five books to his name, the latest being some time we are heroes, published by The Corrupt Press (2018). He has a book forthcoming, this hall of several tortures, to be published by Knives Forks and Spoons Press (September 2019). He edits the online magazines, I am not a silent poet and The Curly Mind.

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