Schooly McSchoolface - Donald Keyman

Lisia, Lesia, which one is easier?
Are both of them not barmier
Than good old Sarnia?

Lisia, Lesia, are they not both uselesser
Than the people who have made
A school without grades?

Lisia, Lesia, which do you prefer?
The question they'd never ask
Until it was answered by Craske

Donald Keyman

Grandma’s picture - Tony Gardner

She stands there just exactly where
I stood the other day
The only difference is we were
A hundred years away
I was in Twenty seventeen
For her the War raged on
Her man was out there fighting
She was home here with their son
In the photo she looks haggard
She knew some would not return
But Hope burned bright within her
And her lucky candle burned
For Grandpa came back safely
Though he left some brothers there
Sleeping through the history
And Time that should be theirs
Grandma, Grandpa Thank you
For facing what I don't know if I could do

Tony Gardner

The Body Keeps The Score - Kate Gallienne

As I stand in my garden, surrounded by trees
I question what’s real and what’s not
My senses inhale the nature around
My memory brings back the forgot

See my body remembers what my mind's erased
Taking me back in time
As if I was reliving the past that was
I begin to question my mind

I am safe here, it is not true
The feelings I feel deep inside
I look to the outside instead of within
I begin to question my mind

Confusion reigns as I’m torn between
Myself and all that I know
How can I trust my feelings
When to do so, I’d let myself go

So I hold on tight to this day and time
I breathe into myself again
I steady my body which soothes my mind
Bringing me back today…and then…

Calmly and slowly I begin to heal
Understanding the disconnect
For my body remembers what happened
Whilst my mind it's tried hard to forget.

Kate Gallienne

La Biche - Richard Fleming

This is the age of clarity:
we know more than our fathers did.
Vulgarity, celebrity,
exposure of what has been hid,
has made us seem immune to fear:
in short, disdainful, cavalier.
But when, returning from a bar,
through labyrinthine, narrow lanes
in old St Martin’s parish, far
from lights and noise, the wind complains,
the bushes sigh and move apart,
fear, beyond reason, grips the heart
and suddenly, instinct, within,
alarmed, awakes to fight or flight.
The child, inside the adult’s skin,
feels terror in the starless night,
imagining an outline, stark,
twin-horned, approaching through the dark.

Richard Fleming

2020 Vision - Joan Etoile

Such an act of brilliant trickery
Of this tiniest island state
To elevate itself beyond pinprickery
And punch way above its weight

Because - we built the steps of cathedrals
And were visited by Saints from Rome
Our Duke controlled old Mercia
And Hugo called it home

The Führer was besotted
By the gem in the silver sea
They were our darkest hours
Until we were all set free

Great times then came upon us
Wealth that we still see
From money, fruit and flowers
All free of VAT

But now we're like dumbwalkers
Staring at our phones
We can't decide on progress
Or hiding in our homes

Once there were great leaders
Who ordered quays and reservoir
But to build the Route Militaire today
Would surely be a Bridge too far

Maybe in 2020
Our vision will be so
And we'll only vote for deputies
Who'll make this island grow

Joan Etoile

Just Living For Today - Lyndon Queripel

When I find myself in the open
And I can’t hide away
Surrounded by words I’ve spoken
With nothing left to say
I won’t think about tomorrow
Forget about yesterday
I’ll take the time I can borrow
And I’ll be on my way
Just living for today

When I find myself alone
With no one there at all
Like another rolling stone
Where love is just a fall
I won’t think about tomorrow
I’ll hang up on the call
Leave behind my sorrow
Back in the shadow play
Just living for today

When I find myself at last
At first or in between
All the places that I’ve passed
And the faces that I’ve seen
I won’t think about tomorrow
Or what I might have been
I was not born to follow
And I didn’t mean to stay
Just living for today.

Lyndon Queripel

Psycho ... (Mummy’s Boy) - Tony Bradley

When I get home these days, I've got the same laments
that my mother often croaked.
"Oh,let me get these stupid shoes off...
bloody rain, I'm tired and soaked!"

Or, sometimes, I just THINK, things she'd say
it's weird, because, for Heaven's sake
She wasn't a good Mother, we were never that close
it just seems a very hard bond to break.

Am I morphing into my Mother? Heaven forbid!
"What a day, I'm as tired as can be...
and that stupid assistant,... be an angel
get your Mum a cup of tea."

Tony Bradley

Holding Hands - Diane Scantlebury

We still hold hands
You and I,
In quiet affirmation
Of our affection,
A gentle squeeze,
Nothing ostentatious
In any way,
Just a discrete
Silent, public display,

We still kiss ‘good night’
And again,
In the morning
When we awaken,
Nothing over amorous,
A gentle peck,
Neither of us wishing
Each other for granted
To be taken,

Holding hands
Down leafy, dark lanes,
Sometimes together
We’ll walk,
And just occasionally
You’ll try to
Encourage me to skip,
But I’ll laugh and refuse
Then hold on even tighter,
In case upon the rough tarmac
I might trip,

We still hold hands
You and I,
Because we’re comfortable,
Not caring
What others think,
A gentle squeeze,
Or a loving peck
Will haul us happily back,
On miserable days
From sorrow’s brink.

Diane Scantlebury

Lycanthrophilia - Edgar Allan Poet

In straitjacket and padded cell,
I struggle when the full moon calls.
The doctors say I am unwell.
I hurl myself against the walls
till, gradually, my lupine howl
dies down into a weary growl.

At other times, I am a man
and therefore I must integrate
with other men as best I can:
a human beast, approximate.
But, in my heart, the wolf-pack cry
commands me so I must comply.

There are no mirrors in this place
but I discern, in my mind’s eye,
the snarl upon my stricken face
whenever nurses happen by.
To murder would not be a sin:
I am a wolf in human skin.

Edgar Allan Poet