First light seeps slowly along the undulating inlets of south facing curtains. A new dawn reflecting on the cliff face …
Exile. A poem by Marie Studer
Inside a walled community garden he sits on wrought iron at the edge of green foot like a bellows, in …
Coronavirus, Lockdown, We’ll Meet Again and Hippocrates. Poetry by Morna Sullivan
Coronavirus Clapping for carers and all our key workers Online shopping queues driving us bonkers. Restrictions on our movements, we’d …
Disinfectant and the Great Detective (With a nod to Donald Trump). A poem by Andrea Jordan
If ever there was someone with a good nose for bullshit You would think it would be Sir Arthur Conan …
PSA # 19 by Kathryn Ann Hill
Do you rock the COVID look? Is your hair down to your shoulders? Do you shrug at your beholders when …