Jody Porter

 

 

 

Café Auteur

On every café commute your Godard eye
transmutes the mannequins of lingerie windows
into beings just like us (with regrets and sorrows and loves).

You command a New Wave brilliance for things
in each of your photographs. I feel terribly mortal
in the company of your beauty.

A melodrama of lipstick upon a cup
with a backdropped fringe of ivy spilling black and white.
An unspecial bird made special mid-flight.

You’re more artist than I will ever be.
Who was it by breaking made
your cinematic heart?

 

 

 

 

Jody Porter is poetry editor of the Morning Star. His work has appeared in Magma, Best British Poetry and elsewhere. Originally from Essex, he now lives in London where he runs events at the Stoke Newington Literary Festival. This is his website: http://alldeciduousthings.tumblr.com/

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Mark Totterdell

 

 

 

Temple Meads

Beneath vast curves of brick and iron and stone,
I bend towards the small black tablet,
trying to establish a connection.

His works are mighty; the fabled bridge
that spans nothing, the great ship that came home.
Now, everything is shrunk. I search for links.

On an old map it’s shown as simple fields.
There’ll be some story of gods and nature
that a few clicks will find. My finger’s poised.

 

 

 

Mark Totterdell’s poems have appeared in magazines including Ambit, The Interpreter’s House, The Rialto and Stand. His collection This Patter of Traces was published by Oversteps Books in 2014. Website; http://marktotterdell.moonfruit.com

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Gregg Dotoli

 

 

 

Isthmus

we are on the Isthmus
past-present soil
growing crowded and carbon-hot
is that tide higher?
where is that lake?
those polar bears swim
but aren’t walruses
scary-odd December-spring day
in the big baked Apple
I like Florida, but
it’s coming to me
not me to it

 

 

 

Gregg Dotoli lives in New York City area and has studied English at Seton Hall University. He works as a white hat hacker, but his first love is the arts.  His poems have been published in, Quail Bell Magazine, The Four Quarters Magazine, Calvary Cross, Dead Snakes, Halcyon Magazine, Allegro Magazine, the Mad Swirl, Voices Project, Writing Raw and Down in the Dirt.

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Charles G Lauder

 

 

 

Late in the Evening
 
The rapid tap of rain
is hands on skin,

ground hard
from the day’s dry tread

made loose by this
roof-tap down-piss.

Lost amidst slap-dash
dots and splashes,

nothing to be seen
but still a sense

of something relayed
in the rhythm,

like code passed
between posts,

between a tree falling
and an ear waiting,

an old know,
that we are never alone.

 

 

 

Charles G Lauder Jr is from Texas and has lived in south Leicestershire since 2000. His poems have appeared internationally, and his pamphlet Bleeds was published in 2012. He is the Assistant Editor for The Interpreter’s House.

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Sue Birchenough

 

 

 

after Landscape with the fall of Icarus

sun
she love
dem pleat on he peasant frock
an’ dem pleat he ploughin’

an’ dem curve sail, an’ river moute,
an’ dem plough pleat curvin’
sun
she love
do mes tic:
sheep an’ shepherd home ly,
an’ dem cliff an’ rock pretendin’
sun
she too damn love up
an’ never see poor icaru’

 

 

 

 

 

Sue Birchenough lives in Buxton, and is a regular visitor to Manchester poetry events. She has been published in English PEN anthology Catechism ,  PBS press anthology No Spy Zone,  Like This Press anthology  Austin Bronte Shakespeare  and KFS anthology  Yesterday’s Music Todayin red ceilings , street cake, ink sweat and tears, m58, and forthcoming in zimZalla. She was highly commended  in 2014 erbacce poetry  competition. Her pamphlet  ‘housework ‘  is to be published by KFS this year.

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Matthew Friday

 

 

Banana Man on the Bakerloo Line

With the delicate, cautious care
of a first-time mother
reaching for her crying baby,
the man on the Bakerloo line train
tip-toes his fingers into his bag.
With surgical precision he extracts
a blackening, limp banana skin.
Not looking up once from his paper,
he sneaks his hand behind his back
and deposits the skin there.
Reading continues
as if nothing has happened,
just like the cigarette butt flickers,
the chewing gum spitters
the wrapping-paper discarders.
I should speak out, start a revolution
of responsible rubbish but
like the million of tongue-less
citizens, I just watch, and now
dump these words on this page.

 

 

 

Matthew Friday is a writer, professional storyteller and primary school teacher. By all means check out the results at:www.matthewfriday.com

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