Poetry | Fiction | Visual Art
Webbed garden spider
strung badminton net fashion
your luncheon is served
Bio: Tracey Walsh has been enjoying life since early retirement in 2013. Indulging a lifelong love of crime fiction by starting a book review blog, she has also discovered a new interest in photographing local Lancashire countryside and wildlife. This is Tracey’s first attempt at poetry since school days.
As the street dies down,
The sea hones in on slick stones;
It was always there.
Photography and Haiku by Daniel Williams.
His oar dips and turns,
Measuring the water’s pulse;
A sketched line of light.
Photography by Kathryn Colling.
Haiku by Daniel Williams.
A stretch of colour,
Anchored through light and water;
Doubled then dissolved.
Haiku and photography by Daniel Williams.
Totes Meer
after Paul Nash.
In the time it would take for the light from the moon
to evaporate the oceans we could begin to
pile up an island with the collected dreck of wars. Downed
planes, tanks like evacuated beetles and other
chewed vehicles would provide rigor mortis foundations.
The island would be looking as if it was badly
tin foiled. Then we could skim the globe, lifting bits up
like finger nails – acned sabres, tobacco
cannons and mistakable buttons. But after the obvious
litter how do we then reclaim all the flint
axe-heads for some placement? Do we include found pots
and pans once loved by men more than
pikes and javelins? And what of the articles of the innocent –
was the trunk of sleeping schoolbooks never
opened after a certain siren? Were the child’s ditched
bike and the winded radio still tuned
to a mother’s favourite station forgotten beyond a rupture?
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