Zero Carbon Journey - Stephen A. Roberts

The new Saviour is here:
a girl child this time
was it prophesied?

For I have not seen it
in the runes
or written in the scrolls
scriptures or tablets.

That she would sail a boat
across America's moat
to save the World
so you won't have to.

Stephen A. Roberts

Open Mic - Richard Fleming

At Open Mic on Monday night
the theme was ‘Leave’ but still they came
in ones and twos, all burning bright
with sheafs of poems, no two the same.
Yes, Fifty Shades of Po-e-tray
few rhymed, but that’s the modern way.

Some read with breathless, high-pitched squeaks
or mumbled incoherently.
Some had perfected their techniques
and read with verve and energy.
We listened, then, with faces, stern,
stepped to the mic to take our turn.

Some read from pages, some from screens.
Some poems were fun, some poems were sad.
A few were clearly in-betweens.
Some were unquestionably mad
but then, of course, most poets are
madder than average, by far.

We heard short poems and poems, too long:
the latter made us stretch and yawn.
Now and again we had a song
then all at once our time was gone.
The readings stopped. Now I could cough,
sup up my drink and bugger off.

Richard Fleming

Sail Away - Tony Bradley

Growing up in hard stuff can distort your life
you respond to things, with a glare, and a growl
but it can be so different . . if you rise above it
and try to smile, instead of scowl.

You didn’t choose the boat you came in
so that Ferryman, you don’t have to pay
set your own course, build your own boat
leave the hardship . . . just sail away . .

Tony Bradley

Spritual Ritual - Lyndon Queripel

Did you burn out in the fire
When the flames got too high
Did you lose your shroud of cloud
When you touched the sky
Was your temple made of straw
Or was it made of gold
When the lightning struck
And the thunder rolled

Did you weather all the seasons
Or was your reign in vain
And did the blood you shed
Only leave behind a stain
When you danced across the water
Of the living dead
Did they sacrifice their lies
Or turn away instead

You ran around high circles
In the air of nowhere fast
Now you present your future
With fragments of the past
When you finally got the message
Written on the throne
You looked behind to find
Your mind had turned to stone

When you knelt before the altar
To offer up your prayer
You found your heart was empty
And your soul was bare
Without a trace of grace
Where will you place the blame
On the day when time stands still
And you have to answer to your name.

Lyndon Queripel

Empty Cans - Diane Scantlebury

So that’s why I’m on the beer this morning,
Last night I had nowhere to sleep,
Rough and ragged on a hard park bench,
The stars and the cold are the usual company I keep,

So that’s why it’s beer and oblivion for breakfast
As a salve for my lost soul’s pain,
In an existence where there’s little hope or dignity,
Only crushed, empty cans on the ground remain.

Diane Scantlebury