Don’t tell -

Don’t delve
into the depths
of unimaginable dangers.
This dark secret as impenetrable
as the deepest mine.

don’t tell -

No one will go there.
Curiosity glossed over,
by trite chit chat,
inconsequential giggle conceals -
flash warning!
quick change of subject -
deft diversions.

Smoke screening a fortress,
defending the darkest secret.
Fight, destroying relationships,
deceit upon deceit,
Like gouache over canvas
and lie, lie, lie.

The darkest secret mushrooms,
elusive as nightmares -
repressed
with a veiled vodka here,
assuaged
with a bitter cut there.
Threatening to burst;
obliterating your entire world.

Kathryn Ford

An extract from:

Joan of Irak

Trilogy for the Middle East

Poem One

Of them, not with them, set apart by faith I observe

the ring of excited faces. Spellbound, eyes wide open, they anticipate my fate.

Senses heightened, my ears hear the faint crackle as unlit tinder starts to catch,

a faint whoosh as the fire takes hold.

Wisps of smoke rise

tickle my throat

sting my eyes

Tears run down my cheeks as the assault on my senses begins.

The circle of faces grow ghostlike behind the folding curtain

of smothering smoke; watery vision.

Expectant looks now distant, drowned in smoke and tears.

A distorted veil of grey.

Wrists feel the chaffing twine, the rough stake. Edacious flickering flame

creeps and licks around my feet. A deadly kiss.

Yet in my moment of ecstasy I am oblivious

to pain. Ears closed to the shouts and jeers.

My being soon to be consumed by eternal flame.

A willing sacrifice,

prepared for paradise.

II.

With them, not of them. Set apart by faith. I quietly observe

the circle of excited faces as, eyes wide open, they anticipate the day.

My rucksack feels weightless. In my moment of ecstasy

I have no fear. My fingers clasp the catch, sweat stings

my eyes as I touch the rough twine that when pulled

will deliver my gift. Our end will be swift. A sacrificial lamb

prepared for paradise.

Berni Mundy

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Taster Poem:

Deadline

Let sunlight

hold you gentle

let its fingers caress

that light deep within

that which shows

your best

as shadows deepen,

wind begins

to blow, blows cold

wet across your face

now the tears set

concrete

proof now

you were on this street

so take a bow

Mr Johnson,

before you depart

leaving your once-home

to those needing more

needing more than you

could give them

you slowly walk

away, unaware

that you’re welcome

instead

you go

away

Kim O’brien

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