Thursday, 4 February 2016

Social Adaptation

In the 1950's
when a girl dumped a boy
he listened to sad songs,
forgot her by and by.

In the 1960's
when a girl dumped a boy
he smoked pot,
protested the war.

In the 1970's and '80's
when a girl dumped a boy
he got drunk,
demanded his ring.

In the 1990's
when a girl dumped a boy
he stalked her,
sometimes attacked her.

If the trend continues
of violent resentment
when a girl dumps a boy…

Gary Beck, 

Saturday, 23 January 2016

High Summer in the Country

Far from the city
way out in the country 
a hot afternoon in high summer

as we drive down a bumpy road 
bouncing one mail box past
another saluting

each farmer by name. 
We marvel at the giant corn 
until we come to a mail box

bent over an old table
piled high with tomatoes, 
green beans and melons.

A tin can slumps in front 
of this harvest with a note 
gripped by a clothes pin 

saying, “Take what you will 
and leave what you will. 
God blessed us this year.”

Donal Mahoney

Donal Mahoney lives in St. Louis, USA and has had poems published in Ancient Heart Magazine and other publications in the United States, Europe, Asia and Africa.

Monday, 11 January 2016


a week ago
when the piercing clarity of the moon sang
graphite harmonies, sweeping across the silent hills
before we discovered that tiny, blotted bundle
of eternity in the field behind your house
before the piercing violence of your scream 
split the charcoal night
as you peeled back the hessian shroud
revealing a tiny face 
with eyes dreaming of forever.

Stuart Buck
Llanarmon DC

Saturday, 19 December 2015

Waiting Room

First time seeing this doctor,
a specialist. Took a month
to get an appointment.
The waiting room’s packed.
I grab the last seat 
next to a lady in a wheelchair
knitting something,
perhaps for a grandchild. 

I pull out my cell phone 
like everyone else
but just to check messages,
not into games. 
No one’s looking at magazines,
it seems, any more.
It’s a cell phone world,
messages and Tic-Tac-Toe.

Half an hour later the lady 
stops knitting and whispers, 
“Sit back and relax, son. 
Life’s a waiting room.
We all have appointments.
Every name is called.
Even those who believe
no doctor is in."

Donal Mahoney

Donal Mahoney lives in St. Louis, USA and has had poems published in Ancient Heart Magazine and other publications in the United States, Europe, Asia and Africa. 

Tuesday, 27 October 2015


I was the open shirt
and the journal palm,
not a pair of wings,
the recorder of passersby.
They did not know what
to do with me. I strung
together metaphors while
they talked about baseball
cards. While they volleyed
juvenile experiences of lust,
I read the thoughts of
expatriate Parisians, sarcastic
polarizing prophets, and poems
balanced on an image. Popping
in compact discs, I imagined
the world I might one day
engage in, sketched in pencil.

JD DeHart
Tennessee, US

Friday, 16 October 2015

All entirely normal

The outlines in the dark
Were of no interest to you
But to me it was a mystery
That rocks could soar suddenly
Bigger than a tower block
Blocking the horizon
Even at night

I’d seen such things in books
And on 625 line TV sets
But not these giant silhouettes
Taunting us
Warning us to stay away
Sneering at our lack of size

The coach slid
Scattered snow into chasm
The driver reversed
Then went forward
And then reversed
And then went forward again
As though it was entirely normal
To slide on the side of rocks
near oblivion.

Anthony E Miller,

Wednesday, 7 October 2015

The Good Liar

He knows how to spin
his yarn so that the truth
is hidden under a golden
hue, desiccated stories

Reworked so that the horror
he was is now the hero,
re-spoken so that the old 
bones are not yet grown that
way, reset and shooting forth

In another, unexpected way,
trying on a new voice instead.

J 'Ash' Gamble