she still believes
pier on fire
only mud beneath waves
the house next door
has no blinds
sunset in winter
they make a lovely couple
white sand between toes
Chaucer Cameron has been published in journals and online including: The North 63 (forthcoming) and I am Not a Silent Poet. Her film poems have screened internationally at film and poetry festivals, including: Zebra (Berlin) Athens and Ledbury. Chaucer created Wild Whispers an international poetry film project. She runs poetry-film workshops in the UK and is co-editor of Poetry Film Live. She tweets @ChaucerCameron
Further information can be found by visiting the below links…
Photo credit @timothypaulsmith_436580_sink at http://www.unsplash.com
At Anchor, Las Cuevitas
This is not one of those nights
when the empty wine bottle
will lurch from the table
then roll to the left, roll to the right
(for hours,) when the wind will play
the stays and shrouds, wail unearthly harmonics,
when the unlatched cupboards will spew their plates
to shatter on the floor.
This is not one of those nights
when we’ll listen for drug boats,
worry about being boarded.
On this night, Venus
will lay her wake on the water.
The ocean, for once, will hold itself still.
Invisible dolphins will circle the boat,
in the dark: only their breath.
Come below with me
to the nest we’ve made
of orange sheets and sweat.
Toss your salty clothes on the floor.
Climb into the cradle formed
by these slant wooden walls and my arms.
Kiss the fear from my lips.
Let the day sift from you.
On this night, the anchor will hold.
Katy McKinney lives in the Pacific Northwest for much of the year, and on a sailboat in Mexico for the remainder. She has published poems in a variety of print and online journals, as well as in several anthologies. She is the author of one book of poems, Fireproofing the Woods.
Photo credit @acastillejos at http://www.unsplash.com
Found Footsteps in the Sand
Found the trails of molluscs
washed away before the tide
could tell their tale
Found the cormorant
still as a statue
his ebony body, talking
Found a tree its leaves
the hair of a dead dog
Found the seagull hovering
landing his message:
this log is my log
Found the seal
grinning up close
spreading his word
Found the girl running
young limbs breaking
feathered lines of retreating waves
Found her footprints in the sand
unreadable in the surf.
Sheila Aldous lives by the River Teign and often walks down the beach to the smugglers’ tunnel. She has been widely published in several journals and has won the Yeovil Prize for Poetry. She has been short-listed for the Bridport Prize. Her collections Paper Boats and Patterns of All Made Things were published in 2018 and 2019. Sheila can be contacted at email@example.com
Photo credit @rawfilm at http://www.unsplash.com
Tracks come easy to the world…
a line of forks in snow,
dour imprints in the mud,
tiny blots on shifting sand.
My footprints are forgotten
the moment they are made
but these spoors speak of
movement, hunger, the camaraderie
of flocks and packs and herds.
The paw is a mighty story teller.
The hoof speaks from an hour before.
Talons are brief messages
for heads to separate
their barred owls from their hawks.
I walk a beach, a thousand crisscrossed journeys:
sanderlings, snipes, ruddy turnstones.
The tide rolls in, intent on blotting
out these tales.
But that just gifts the laughing gulls
something else to laugh about.
John Grey is an Australian poet and US resident. He is published in
That, Dunes Review, Poetry East and North Dakota Quarterly with work
upcoming in Qwerty, Thin Air, Dalhousie Review and failbetter.
Photo credit @topazspirit at http://www.unsplash.com
From Brean Down
The puddled beach reflects a cloud
that floats off to glistening mudflats,
then to Steep Holm, Flat Holm, Wales
over water thick and brown with silt,
though from the Down, you can see
how the murky waves catch the light
so a blue lustre glazes their crests
and a day long forgotten comes back:
brown sea with a blue iridescence,
strong hands on your waist, lifting you
onto a donkey, its sweet dusty smell,
the shreds of pale straw in its mane,
Dad holding you safe in the saddle.
Sharon’s poems have been published in print and online. She won the Borderlines Poetry Competition in 2017, was among the winners of the Poetry Society Members’ Competition in November 2018 and was Highly Commended in the Bridport Prize (2019). Sharon has recently moved to Otley, in West Yorkshire, from the Isle of Portland. She tweets @sharoncowling
Photo credit Sally Griffiths at https://www.thewestonmercury.co.uk/news/can-you-visit-steep-holm-island-1-5232312