All posts tagged: A New Ulster

“Finding Symmetry” and other poems by Jo Burns

Conchita reads Pablo’s letter to God (while he is painting)   Your committee for time-keeping has ruled diphtheria a highly unpunctilious event. By consensus you can’t seem to remember this being planned into any agendas.   You call me precocious but Pablo, honestly it’s you that Mama has always adored, Papa ignores me, I can’t even draw. It’s all planned for you so perfectly.   You’re a stickler for timeliness, and planned these years differently. You have the domestic dates regulated but I heard you, silently   trying prayer on for size, gambling paint for my life. You waver clandestine. Your brushstrokes will sacrifice us all and I will be the first in line.   First published by Helen Ivory at Ink Sweat and Tears for National Poetry Day.   Mrs Violet Schiff at The Majestic   At this gathering of society horsemen behind Parisian oyster cream gates, Proust is here. He drives me insane. Bloody Joyce is silent and seems irritated.   I’m waiting for you Pablo. Please wear, for me, that faixa …

“Mallards” by C. Murray

Mallards This is the crossroads, this is where it is. Black cat has killed a male chaffinch. There are rusty feathers all over, feather blown they roll down the steps                            |they indicate a way| your freedom,                             robin heralds it,                             someone has put up bunting                                                                 even, and you are caught on that first step of your descent in a pause of red, of white.  “Mallards” is © C. Murray & it was first published in ANU 48

‘I wanted to tell you, but there was no time’ and other poems by Csilla Toldy

Kitchen   With hot chilli in my eyes I read between the lines, a coded message of noises: A child’s scream sheathed in wind blasts,   gashes through the cracks. The mandalay porcelain clock, riveting, ticks between my shoulder blades. I carry my life like a snail.   The fridge sighs, a boiler roars into motion, it broils the oil of the seas and heats – my place, the kitchen at dawn.   Clouds scrub the stratosphere with desert sand; a mad dog, stuck in fear, just shrills. The river at the bottom of our glen, shushing its song, cushions our senses.   In my body’s kitchen the heart spins unrelenting. Organs send impulses talking to each other. “Thanks for the parcel, we enjoyed the food.”   The universe of enzymes awakens, matter is transformed, vibrations vocalise. My body is gauze, from Gaza, letting through the particles of light – staunch at covering the wounds, so absorbent.   Beyond its wonders I remember last night’s cosmic dance at this table, our conversation about intelligence and …

Blank pages and Other Poems by Ellie Rose McKee

  This Feeling   This feeling is a soft, slow touch A gentle trickle, A dying ember and a silent whisper   A glistening, glowing light A haunting melody, A sad smile and a quiet sigh   This feeling is longing Love and waiting wrapped as one The girl by the window Scanning the wide, still sea Waiting for her prince Blank Pages I got a new notebook today The cover was so bright – shining And the pages: the highest quality But it was difficult deciding Just what to use it for Part of me didn’t want to use it at all, lest I spoil it I wanted to fill the pages with something important That I’d want to keep, and look back on Wanted to take extra care, so I’d never need to rip out any pages And then I thought to myself, how much this notebook is like my life And I still don’t know what to write And the years are slipping by   Festival (To Be Young) Sweat, on top …

Fossil 1 , by C. Murray

press-to     drop-by-drop   raindrop-and-sinew   the whole woman   not tamp-in     onto the still-living-soil   a new shape   embed-in     the bone and the   living-sinew-of   the still-warm blood   slowly-so     and infinitely blue   the milk-flow from crystallising breast   a stone-dress    .material as silk-soft   caul or veil   can be sweet as silk or rain or   blue     rain sinews against and into   chalice of womb.   half-into the wall   and often not   still   a lone bird night-sings   Fossil 1 is © C. Murray   First published, A New Ulster issue VI , 2013