POETRY

THE FISHER QUEEN by DANIEL SHARPE (Northern Ireland)

Sweet Erin you lay far from me,

In soils toiled by blight and blood.

Your deplorable, horrible, despicable, ignorable.

You reiterate, evaluate, desiccate, and exacerbate.

Can’t you accept the way you look?

Late afternoon.

I never knew a whisper, soft and sweet, could sing

In tranquil lapse.

A poem is when a scattering of swallows suddenly form a perfect v.

A poem is the angle which makes dew on a rose petal look like diamonds.

On a frosty October morning, I walk to a field

And lie flat on my back in the dewy grass.

I believe in

People Places,

A Place for every Person to

The silence can be eerie

Dark, damp and cold