Tag: Featured Poet

My Granddaughter, Almost Twenty by Michael Craig Kasper

I watch my granddaughter Walk before me Or rather, I watch the men Staining their necks As they watch her walk by, Young hips swaying like the sea Oblivious. And I am proud That the blood of my blood Can draw such rapture Such…

The Dancing Trees by Michael Craig Kasper

There was a stand of trees Where the road from work Teed into the road home. They would dance in the wind, So close, their branches mingled, If one moved, they all moved, Choreographed. I would sit at the light, Waiting to turn, and…

Whistle Stop by Michael Craig Kasper

some minor city in Illinois past midnight, the neon signs running on the wet pavement the tavern hard by the tracks we stop here to let one off or two get on — minutes of stillness in the long rough night I watch him…

Final Fifteen Minutes by Martin Christmas

Cabin in deep forest home alone in upstairs flat. Final fifteen minutes midday movies creepy music. Young woman older guy or younger shonky lover the ending won’t be pretty. He arrives by car by lift by open window music heavy light but always ominous….

Mount Everest Cockroach by Martin Christmas

Standing at base camp in the dark of early night watching this huge cockroach not even donning an oxygen tank about to climb to the summit of Mount Everest and off it goes. Easily scaling the rough trunk terrain the breaks in the track…

Outback ruin by Martin Christmas

Hot sun, cloudless sky. As far the eye sees, flat empty plain. The track threads its lonely way to the shimmering horizon. The merciless sun drums the mulga bush. On one side of the endless track, a homestead slowly crumbling into dust. Roof long…

Seven Thousand Tigers by Martin Christmas

I was dapping through the archives 21st century, olden days, when I came across this cryptic note, ‘Seven thousand tigers left’. But before my birth they’d all been killed. Dad says, ‘Stick to generic brands, son’, so when the food tube came I read…

Sunset Adieu by Martin Christmas

Sun sets. Cloud tips gold. Silver exhaust jets upward through the blue. Sun’s rays fade. Nodding yachts silently dip their masts. Water surface scuds a fond farewell. Sea gulls almost now departed. Mum’s framed image propped up in the front seat, takes a gentle…