Secret and Confession

Maria Bautista

Confession is integrity of mankind to know but cultivation to achieve
Compressive to maintain the evidence but occupied to hide
Aggressive to multiply for other to give the evidence but accurate to control
Assemble for connection to urge but severe to persuade

Advance of word to compress but un-trust to fulfil
Secure for conversation to comes out but uphold to care with it
Achieve of mind know but assemble with care to provide
Condition to mark the length of lips to consultation of review but the power of integrity is stop to make it through

Continue reading

Poem, secret, confession

Mine is Yours, Yours is Mine.

Mandy Mullen

Come closer...

Can I tell you a secret?

No-one knows but my heart!
I have hidden this secret for some time now.
I am ready to reveal!

Are you ready to hear it?

How will you react I wonder?
Will you be shocked? Surprised?
Or will you open your arms to me,
open up your heart and let me in?

My heart is knocking at your heart's door!

I need to confess . . .

Bless me, my love
for I have sinned . . . 

What then my PENANCE ?

Are you ready?

Continue reading

A Theft

Debbie Cannon, @Debsca

Here. My fingertip
on the hole that's healed
in the lobe of your ear
and probing
the gash in your cheek
from the fight you don't remember
and soothed down
the broken line of your nose.
And my sight
penetrates the dark tunnel
of your eye
as your fingers
join up a cuff
around my wrist.
And my fingernails
feel for a new scar
in your chest
to close on what I want.

Continue reading

Poem, scars

The call came

Audrey Biscotti

The call came at 4.56, I remember because I liked the pattern,
The rest of that day I did not like,
The irony of my ‘born to sleep’ nightshirt hits me as it hits the floor,
The morning more appropriately wore a coat of grey mist,
Headlight pinholes, tunnel the way, as I drove to your end.

Continue reading

Brave Words

Zoe Johnstone, @beanf0x

I read the poem you loved aloud to you
Over the telephone, heard your faint gasp of thanks.
You snatched at air to speak this final message to me
From 4000 miles away.
Already numb with dread, I sat and stared
And waited to be told you had died.

Continue reading

The Shadow

M J Frame

A shadow is calling, it wants you to come
the shadow is safety from witness and tongue.
Hide in the dark from the wind and the rain
savour this sanctuary, away from the pain.

Dark envelops in routine embrace;
you may never escape from this helpless place,
unless and until light seizes attention
and then can begin the quiet intention  
of being reborn back into the world, 
changed, but hopeful of filling the void.

Continue reading

Poem, darkness, resurgence

Aye, aye, but...

Paul Shanks

I have read of a world-kenning that gleans
the zenith of a mountain in an untroubled loch.
I have seen, as you have seen,
the sharp intellect in a gannet’s eye,
the poised cross shape of a cormorant on
its outcrop of stone. I have known bare facts
in snow flakes and icescapes beyond the call of words.
A bazaar of guillemots is company there as is the keen
of a storm that wipes out brain, body, self, the lot.

Continue reading


Lori England, @lori_up

I have swallowed the key,
taken the words down
into the deeps of me.

I confess:
I stitched my lips shut,
anchored the corners,

so that my sadness stayed
underneath my teeth.
I confess:

that I twisted my tongue
to keep you from seeing
the stain that seeped, 

like old smoke on silk,
right into my glass bones.
I confess: 

that I thought if you saw
the images that invaded
my mind, that you would


Continue reading



Toronto’s strict - no safety measures
must be sold
to encourage illicit love. 

So I’m the scion of an office secret,
the pest who made the test ring pink  -
with no scope for a quiet termination 

(but I’d have understood that course of action –
                                  had there been an I).

Toronto harries unmarried mothers
into homes where they're herded together
as fallen women - some reputation. 

Continue reading

Poem, secret

Don’t Worry About the Dead


All around are bent people
dark and still
fashioned by loss
bound by amen 

rain scurries
as rats upon a roof
a smell
like burnt umber 

hangs spiderless in the air
dust preys on flowers
and he longs for an angel

to bring him back to life.

Continue reading