All posts filed under: Indices

Merry Christmas 2018 Dear Poethead Readers ♥

Poetry publishing will resume in January 2019. I will be reading and responding to your submissions in the intervening period. Thank you for your emails, your queries, your support and responses over this year of 2018. As always, the site remains open and accessible. Please visit An Index Of Women Poets and Contemporary Irish Women Poets during the season.  My thanks to Salma Caller, whose wonderful artistic response to my 2018 publications graces this message, her work can be found throughout Poethead. Thanks to the many poets who submitted during 2018. Your tremendous work was an utter joy to read. Thank you for your patience in waiting for publication. I am delighted to have welcomed first-time poets, poet-translators, and work from experienced poets through this past year. Merry Christmas and best wishes for the season. The image accompanying this short post reminds me that in January, the first flowers begin appearing, something wonderful to look forward to.  (Image details) Chris Murray December 2018 Contemporary Irish Women Poets An Index Of Women Poets Recent features on Poethead  …

‘Reluctant Oration’ and other poems by Fiona King

Birth The last point of the quadrant remains to be drawn, Out on the fringe of a shadowy dawn. The air is still, devoid of all sound, The raven encircles the battleground. The troops are assembled, their swords held with poise, To face the enemy engulfing his choice. He arrives with his foe, emits a loud cry, The prophetic bird falls dead from the sky. Morning’s mist begins to fade, The child is here, no longer afraid. CHILD’S PLAY The couple play a childish game, Their toys are guilt, betrayal, shame. They scatter them across the floor, Expose insecurities raw and sore. Their song is angry, well-rehearsed, A tune of sadness, bitterly versed. Their painting, an unfinished mess, Made in haste, under duress. They dance a dance of hideous precision, Wrong is right, final decision. Nothing to lose and less to gain, Familiar role play, hate and pain. Their child looks on, he takes the blame, Discarded toy in an adult game.   WOODEN SPOON Deed is done, misdemeanour little, Anger rises, no acquittal. Shriek …