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Growing gifts<\/strong><\/p>\n A church spire sky and it birds have gone the flowers spring, the milkman a thankless job is forced outdoors comes indoors in its branches December <\/p>\n Nikhil\u00a0 Nath <\/strong>has been writing poetry for eighteen years. He has been published in various magazine in India, the USA and the UK. Nikhil Nath is his pen name. He lives and works from Kolkata, India. \u201cWrite rubbish, but write”, said Virginia Woolf. This is Nikhil’s maxim for writing.\u00a0 Allegro, Aji,\u00a0 Laughing Dog<\/em> (Poem of the Month), Ehanom, Ithica Lit, Germ Magazine, Leaves of Ink, Linden Avenue and Pif Magazine<\/em> have recently accepted his work<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n A Commuter\u2019s Prayer<\/strong><\/p>\n In the frosted dark of Market Square, Stealthy council workers drape streets Beneath the Chemist\u2019s neon crucifix Gazing at the electronic display, Suspended between penitent streetlamps, Angel unbound in departing Plexiglass, <\/p>\n <\/p>\n John Paul Davies<\/strong> was born in Birkenhead and has been published in Crann\u00f3g, Manchester Review, The Frogmore Papers, Orbis, Smoke and Grain.\u00a0<\/em> He was runner up in the 2016 Cheshire Prize for Literature, and placed second in the 2017 Waterford Poetry Prize.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Malawi Christmas<\/strong><\/p>\n Evening meal shared, sun bled beyond the horizon, One poor candle emits yellow light. Christmas stars soak it up, Generous hands guide you. The air fills with giggles and hyena cackle. falls into your whiteness, close enough to touch, Above a perigee moon sheds a spotlight, the inky black a backdrop parallel to the heavens, counting stars, drawing constellations, <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Maggie Mackay<\/strong>, a jazz and whisky lover, has work in Algebra of Owls, Amaryllis, Atrium, Prole, The Everyday Poet, Southlight <\/em>and Three Drops Press.<\/em> Her poems have been nominated for The Forward Prize, Best Single Poem and the Pushcart Prize in 2017.<\/p>\n Note: A version of this poem was published on Angela Topping\u2019s blog: Poetry about Hygge, 29\/01\/2017<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Growing gifts A church spire pricks the dull sky and it starts snowing birds have gone into hiding, the flowers will wait till spring, the milkman finds his, a thankless job and the snowman is forced outdoors while the\u00a0coniferous comes indoors growing gifts in its branches on the night of December twenty […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[82],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-15354","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-twelve-days-of-christmas-2017"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/15354","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=15354"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/15354\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":15502,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/15354\/revisions\/15502"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=15354"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=15354"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=15354"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\npricks the dull<\/p>\n
\nstarts snowing<\/p>\n
\ninto hiding,<\/p>\n
\nwill wait till<\/p>\n
\nfinds his,<\/p>\n
\nand the snowman<\/p>\n
\nwhile the\u00a0coniferous<\/p>\n
\ngrowing gifts<\/p>\n
\non the night of<\/p>\n
\ntwenty fourth.<\/p>\n
\nhours before Supermac\u2019s opens,
\nthe camel-backed Magi spark to life.<\/p>\n
\nwith pearls of light, flashing Santas, sleighs;
\nstar of Bethlehem crowning a twelve foot tree.<\/p>\n
\na hooded commuter sways,
\ncradling a polystyrene cup.<\/p>\n
\nhe offers up a silent prayer
\nthat \u2018Delayed\u2019 might defer to \u2018Here\u2019.<\/p>\n
\na fibreglass angel traipses across
\nthe tinted windows of a bus \u2013 not his.<\/p>\n
\nthe 104 lumbers towards its guiding star.<\/p>\n
\nthe stone step draws you to the shuttered night.<\/p>\n
\nleaves you sightless and as off-balance as a one-year-old.<\/p>\n
\nUnder Paul Simon\u2019s African skies you squint as the space grows,<\/p>\n
\na blur of radiance, a liberation. You know not what is below your feet.<\/p>\n
\nto silver fury and smoky glow. Flighty besom, stretch out forever<\/p>\n
\nwalking on your back, drunken with possibilities. You long for a star bed<\/p>\n