Picaroon Poetry - Issue #12 - May 2018
The return of Picaroon Poetry! After nearly six months away while Kate had a baby, we are back. Features 32 brand new poems by Rachel Burns, Marissa Glover, Charley Barnes, Maggie Sawkins, Kitty Coles, Lennart Lundh, Heidi Slettedahl, Simon Perchik, Adrian Slonaker, Ceinwen E. Cariad Haydon, Bob MacKenzie, Jack Little, Neil Fulwood, Carl Boon, Sophie Petrie, Tobi Alfier, Bethany W Pope, Brett Stout, Thomas Tyrrell, Jonathan Humble, Scott Redmond, Abigail Elizabeth Ottley, Irene Cunningham, Jenny McRobert, J.S. Watts, Sunita Thind, Michelle Diaz, Bethany Rivers, Stephen Seabridge, Martin Zarrop, Ian Grosz, and Michael McGill.
The return of Picaroon Poetry! After nearly six months away while Kate had a baby, we are back.
Features 32 brand new poems by Rachel Burns, Marissa Glover, Charley Barnes, Maggie Sawkins, Kitty Coles, Lennart Lundh, Heidi Slettedahl, Simon Perchik, Adrian Slonaker, Ceinwen E. Cariad Haydon, Bob MacKenzie, Jack Little, Neil Fulwood, Carl Boon, Sophie Petrie, Tobi Alfier, Bethany W Pope, Brett Stout, Thomas Tyrrell, Jonathan Humble, Scott Redmond, Abigail Elizabeth Ottley, Irene Cunningham, Jenny McRobert, J.S. Watts, Sunita Thind, Michelle Diaz, Bethany Rivers, Stephen Seabridge, Martin Zarrop, Ian Grosz, and Michael McGill.
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Jonathan Humble<br />
Aberration<br />
First thing in the morning, watch the mirror yawning,<br />
just another Monday when it hits you without warning.<br />
Lost your medication, feel the irritation,<br />
quickly followed by a burst of weird exaltation.<br />
Quite enjoy a chinwag, talking to a spongebag,<br />
interrupted by the coffee pushing back the jetlag.<br />
Called the boss a fishface, must have been a nutcase,<br />
lose your mind in increments while running in the rat race.<br />
Drowning in the bearpit, looking like a nitwit,<br />
watch out for the killer viral fungus in the armpit.<br />
Have a right good chortle, walking through the portal,<br />
be a mixed up manic panic borderline immortal.<br />
Listen for a raindrop, waiting by the bin slop,<br />
wondering just who you are and why you're at a bus stop.<br />
Feeling cold and left out, swimming in your own doubt,<br />
glaring round and looking for a fight with any young lout.<br />
Fed up with the mucus, wade around in fucus,<br />
staring at the night sky looking hard for Ophiuchus.<br />
Used to be a boy scout, give the moon a good shout,<br />
wave goodbye to sanity while searching for the way out ...<br />
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