Picaroon - Issue #5 - November 2016
Welcome to Issue #5 of Picaroon Poetry, or as I've been affectionately (and unofficially!) calling it, 'the sex and death issue'. It's an unquestionably autumnal/wintry collection of poems for our last outing of 2016, bleak and unflinching in places (though there are some wry, hopeful, and funny moments as well). Still, as long as these things are being written down, everything keeps moving forward. Includes poems by Ava C. Cipri, Ojo Taiye, James H Duncan, Charlotte Ansell, Monika Kostera, Zoë Sîobhan Howarth-Lowe, Jackie Biggs, Lesley Quayle, Amy Kinsman, Derek Coyle, Cheryl Pearson, Bethany W Pope, Nenad Trajkovic, Jane R Rogers, David Susswein, Emma Lee, Jo Burns, Brett Evans, John D. Robinson, Shauna Robertson, Bobby Steve Baker, Holly Day, Courtney LeBlanc, Jessica Mookherjee, Paul Brookes, Pat Edwards, John Grey and Steven Bruce.
Welcome to Issue #5 of Picaroon Poetry, or as I've been affectionately (and unofficially!) calling it, 'the sex and death issue'. It's an unquestionably autumnal/wintry collection of poems for our last outing of 2016, bleak and unflinching in places (though there are some wry, hopeful, and funny moments as well). Still, as long as these things are being written down, everything keeps moving forward.
Includes poems by Ava C. Cipri, Ojo Taiye, James H Duncan, Charlotte Ansell, Monika Kostera, Zoë Sîobhan Howarth-Lowe, Jackie Biggs, Lesley Quayle, Amy Kinsman, Derek Coyle, Cheryl Pearson, Bethany W Pope, Nenad Trajkovic, Jane R Rogers, David Susswein, Emma Lee, Jo Burns, Brett Evans, John D. Robinson, Shauna Robertson, Bobby Steve Baker, Holly Day, Courtney LeBlanc, Jessica Mookherjee, Paul Brookes, Pat Edwards, John Grey and Steven Bruce.
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I’d have a day like this<br />
every week of my life.’<br />
I had read about you<br />
and forgotten, until<br />
a child sucking a lollipop<br />
saw you come back to me.<br />
Your face blended<br />
with that black<br />
hard rock of solidified sugar.<br />
I could see your tiny fist<br />
wrapped tightly around<br />
bright red gobstoppers,<br />
only this wasn’t some cartoon<br />
smash and grab, a comic<br />
strip. This was life.<br />
Which means, you were dead meat.<br />
There were centuries<br />
of evolution behind<br />
the small steel bullet<br />
that pierced your leg,<br />
a swift blink of an eye<br />
from iron-age axe-heads<br />
to the machine gun, that rifle.<br />
Connolly shouted out the order:<br />
“Shoot some looters!<br />
Shoot them blasted looters!”<br />
This bullet was made<br />
for a child, this bullet<br />
was made<br />
for you.
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