Archive

This week's Showcase is a delightful poem by Herman Richards. Your Beauty celebrates the couples in the world who champion their love for one another, day in, day out, not with extravagant gestures or gift-giving, but by simply being there for each other. It is a realistic and mature perspective ...

This week's entry by Mary Walsh is a simple but timely poem. Submitted to Pen to Print for consideration several weeks ago, the original purpose was the paint a picture with words of the beauty of a Mediterranean coastal view, specifically in Spain. But given how the world has changed ...

by Eithne Cullen   The tea hut’s closed no rowing boats for hire the Alfred Hitchcock’s shutters down; people walk despite the cold and mud and warnings to stay home and stay apart.   A little girl flies a kite laughing and free, a game of catch keeps women metres apart. Two guys walk past with bottles in their hands and swig Corona, trendy brand. Gorse glares blindingly, swans ...

by Philip Shamplina   In the beginning, from your birth You’ll never know, in the future, what you’ll be worth Hatch, match and dispatch For some, for a living, they have to scratch Living on the wrong side of the tracks With no-one to watch their backs   For some it will be a battle And many cages they’ll have ...

by Benedict Ushedo   Ragged.   He walks on … In gentlemanly dignity Confident in his strides Threadbare tie in its place   He walks on …   Oblivious of the holes on his shirt Never worries about the patched trousers Unmindful of the toes that have liberated themselves from suffocating shoes.   He walks on …   Bearing the burden of lost time in the rags of ...

by Denise Woodhouse   I like to think I’m not superstitious, yet I always slyly nod or take a sharp, sideways look for your mate, hoping she is not keeping some date with sorrow,   some meeting with ill fate.   The two of you, foraging through your lifelong match, carry me away, in this mirthless stony-skied season, with ...

by Mary Walsh   When I was young, I looked for the brow of the hill. With light footsteps, I made my way to the top but as I reached the summit, I found another hill beyond, another brow beckoning me and leading me on. “Don’t look back,” it warned, “lest you be turned to salt.” And so I ran or ...