Picaroon Poetry - Issue #10 - September 2017
We have a strange and wonderful line up for Issue #10 - including (but not limited to) smugglers, dinners, literary icons, an octopus, a tapir, pop stars, and the passage of time. Featuring poetry by Stephen Daniels, Stella Bahin, John Grey, Claire Lloyd, Lorraine Carey, Kathleen Latham, Natalie Crick, Leda Muscatello, Billy Malanga, Sarah Shirley, Pat Edwards, Monique Byro, James Croal Jackson, D. Dallas, Neil Fulwood, Howie Good, Michele Stepto, Tristan Moss, Joe Cottonwood, S.E. Acton, Brett Evans, Samuel Kendall, Philip Flynn, Belinda Rimmer, J.A. Sutherland, Kathleen Strafford, Catriona Yule, Patricia Walsh, Nick Romeo, J.P. Bohannon, and Hannah Stone. Enjoy!
We have a strange and wonderful line up for Issue #10 - including (but not limited to) smugglers, dinners, literary icons, an octopus, a tapir, pop stars, and the passage of time.
Featuring poetry by Stephen Daniels, Stella Bahin, John Grey, Claire Lloyd, Lorraine Carey, Kathleen Latham, Natalie Crick, Leda Muscatello, Billy Malanga, Sarah Shirley, Pat Edwards, Monique Byro, James Croal Jackson, D. Dallas, Neil Fulwood, Howie Good, Michele Stepto, Tristan Moss, Joe Cottonwood, S.E. Acton, Brett Evans, Samuel Kendall, Philip Flynn, Belinda Rimmer, J.A. Sutherland, Kathleen Strafford, Catriona Yule, Patricia Walsh, Nick Romeo, J.P. Bohannon, and Hannah Stone.
Enjoy!
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Lorraine Carey<br />
Teenager<br />
You used to fit<br />
in my elbow’s bend,<br />
the early days<br />
when I could sit<br />
and scan your features<br />
for ancestry.<br />
Hours spent watching<br />
crap repeats<br />
of daytime soaps<br />
and movies long forgotten,<br />
as your father slept<br />
and it was just you<br />
and me.<br />
I sat before the sun<br />
rose, before light<br />
woke up the house,<br />
flooded through<br />
the bungalow.<br />
Company for the ticking<br />
of Agatha’s clock,<br />
whose coiling stem<br />
stood like a question mark.<br />
Placing little<br />
arms and feet<br />
in softest cotton.<br />
The click<br />
of poppers<br />
peppers my sleep,<br />
as you potter now<br />
with insomnia<br />
in the adjacent room.<br />
Just six inches short<br />
of my crown<br />
and the silver<br />
hairs, more here
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