Ikechukwu Obialo Azuonye
Where's all the laughter?
Do you know her mister?
Poets in Dialogue: Adage Adagio* Parts I & II
David Nettleingham and
idols are the seeds
of a new
plea to the fertile dead,
a way of
movement of rivers.
Do you think it might possibly
Be time, at last,
To stop thinking
And start living?
By Yolanda Lindsay Mabuto
The past sings in my present misery and I awaken to a
silhouette of your absence
I keep hearing the echoes of your breathless goodbye.
Words unsaid yet those words tame my intuition-and arise as
Whispers of an embrace that held tight to this heartbreak,
that brought warmth to my every cold desire.
By DJ McVey
Creosote cuprinol vapours
cling to the barbecued air
hundred lawnmowers sing in unison
a thousand strimmers harmonise
as hoses wash the sound with a
bubbled cacophony of
Summer Sunday afternoon cleanliness.
By Michael Brooks
Hope Is the Rope You Hang Yourself With
So I amble up Deansgate past
Alfresco dining on rain-stained Manchester paving stones
Get lost in the Northern Quarter same as ever
In music shops peruse Gibsons and Fenders that
I will never ever own.