Genna Gardini

      When we die, do we   go back, small cell, atom slit by light. It takes up  space, an ocean, a planet, a  god. Too large to understand  the scale, although we accept the concept. Constellations, tongues of vibration. Unlearnable logic between...

Fran Hayden

      Sunflowers   a friend messaged me: “every time I see sunflowers, I think of you” and somehow, that was all I needed to remember that somewhere in this world I still bloom in someone else’s mind.   Fran Hayden is an emerging poet and...

Betty Doyle

      At Sea   Both cast out to sea, I wonder –  did your ashes ever meet?  It was under the same sun setting, although years and miles apart. My grandmother, loosened slowly into Cardigan Bay under a Hay Moon. My best friend, spread across a bed...

Mark Rutter

    Well after Thomas A Clark when the people are gone and the wooden house has been burned down to recover its nails for a short while afterwards there may flourish a small orchard and a well blinking at the sky   Mark Rutter’s poems have appeared in...

Gráinne Daly

      Not for me Glasnevin Nor its Irish revolutionaries. Not for me the slate rain  on my headstone for ten months of the year and intermittent showers in the other two. Not for me the tomb of Irish soil. Put me on a plane and let me make one last...