Thursday, 21 August 2014

In Syria, Small Beds Lie Empty

Oh Syria, where are your children?
Do they gambol through your fields?
Do they laze in the sun while clouds drift by
or picnic beside your olive groves?

They are not learning at school.
They are not seated at your table
or dreaming in their beds.
Oh Syria, where are your children?

Did they taste the hatred of your words?
Did they tremble at the drumming in your veins
and fly, small victims of your bludgeoning arms,
into paradise, or someplace in-between?

Oh Syria, stand down! You squander
the seeds of your future. Your children
are as songs gathering voice, tender buds 
unfolding to renew torn horizons.

Without them, love cannot be.
Without them, hope is empty as their beds.
Oh Syria, embrace your innocents
or suffer forever beneath guilt's yoke.

© Darrell Petska

Wednesday, 20 August 2014


Three hundred eyes for an eye,
Three hundred teeth for a tooth.
Where is the truth?
The wise and ancient retaliation law
Couldn’t just stand;
Planned or unplanned,
One way or the other it moved.
The Messiah came with the challenge –
No eye for an eye,
No tooth for a tooth,
Leading to Peace and reconciliation.
Do cry,
But, together, face the truth.
Not easy.
But now the three hundred eyes and teeth
Fly in the face of humanity:
One mother is not more a mother than another,
One father is not more a father….
One child is not more a child ….
One sister, one brother …..
How can ‘leaders’ be so blind?
What has become of our common humankind?
© John D.Kirwan 
Gaza war: the emotional toll

 Wirral born (1940!) and bred. Catholic missionary, ordained 1965. Uganda 65-68; Paris 68-71; Kenya 71-73; The Netherlands 73-78;Paris 78-79; Za├»re/DRC 1980----; Interested in poetry since the 1950's. (Title to fame: Clare Kirwan's uncle!)

Tuesday, 19 August 2014

Bite the hand which feeds.

Russia, today, aid into Ukraine want to send,
But no one is sure if it is pretend,
The whole situation is really a mess,
But no one wants the problem to be addressed,
For fear is the true ruler of all,
After all truth here doesn't stand tall,
Wouldn't it be great if we were all friends,
Then we wouldn't need aid to send.

Ukraine Crisis

© Janice A Louland 

Monday, 18 August 2014

'Kepler’s Conjecture'


Today I took some time

from staring at the stars

and ambled to the market.

Nothing too fancy, mind,

just one of those stack-em-high,

sell-em-cheap brigades

that are all the rage

in Germany. Perhaps attracted

by the colour, I got to thinking

about oranges, how lonely

they look arranged in single-file

and not the most efficient.

So I took out my parchment,

scribbled some calculations

to find the Egyptians were right

all along, and that pyramids rock.

Now I sit and wait for the world

to catch up, four hundred years

and one big computer, to prove

what any self-respecting orange-stacker

could have told you if you asked.
© Maurice Devitt

Maurice is reading for an MA in Poetry Studies at Mater Dei, and has recently been short-listed for the Listowel Writers’ Week Poetry Collection Competition. He is working towards a first collection.  

Sunday, 17 August 2014

Sunday Review

Alan Johnson's poem "Later" about the centenary of the beginning of World War 1 was our poem on Monday. It is a very evocative exploration of memories of that time and how it relates to us and the sort of choices we all make.
I think on all the young men I was, but escaped from…………being.
Tuesday's poem was Mona Dash's "The Rape of Childhood" a very strong poem about child abuse. The truly heartbreaking final stanza explains the poem in a far better manner than I can.
The one shot at childhood,
that once broken,
Nothing can rebuild the
Spire of the dreams of tomorrow
Bryn Hyfrd's "For Estela" was Wednesdays poem about and Argentinian grandmother being re-united with her grandson. The poem makes the point about keeping up protests when you know that your right.
I am the madwoman who
asks too many questions
unpicking a tapestry of lies
its holes shedding light on 
the faces of the disappeared 
On Thursday Abi Wyatt's poem "12th August, 2014",  marking the death of Robin Williams made a fitting statement about the impact it had on us.
Over breakfast coffee so much
is said, written, tweeted,
posted on Facebook and yet
there is so little left to say.
A star burned out and fell today -
Joshua Baumgarten's poem "sense of it"  gave an insight into  America's firearms problem and very astutely positioned that problem in the whole society.
 wound up maniacal states
stampeding boulevards flame filled pothole dreams
 all you can devour cannabilistic buffet

open 24hrs. 
I hope each one of you has a good week. Please keep sending your poems in because this is a time when we need to hear everyone's voices.