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Poetry, Australasia, Australia
By Maurice Fairfield.
Somebody sentenced me to life some time ago.
For something I can't remember doing.
Now as my sentence dwindles to its close,
Freedom no longer pulls me as it did.
My cell though cramped, is cosy,
And the meals arrive on time.
Also, I have grown used to them.
I have some cell-mates.
One I chose: the others just turned up from somewhere.
We have our ups and downs, but on the whole
I would miss them
Last night a warning cough rang down the corridor
The door has stood ajar for some time now.
How long before it stands held wide
And a calling finger beckons?

Copyright © Maurice Fairfield 2004

Pictures at an Auction.
By Maurice Fairfield.
A poem suggested by memories of visits to Gilbert Baitson's on Anlaby Road, Hull, England.
Into this place of dust and dealers come
The kitchen dressers and the chests of drawers
Which lived with families while the families
Grew, grew old and died.
Pianos wait the touch of vanished hand and here and there
Pathetic boxes of possessions stand.
The tacks and rasps
Three-footed iron lasts
Boot mendin gear
From harsher times than now.
The china ornaments and souvenirs
From seaside holidays long gone.
Chipped crockery and rusty kitchen knives,
Honed to a thrifty leanness by the years
And always, photographs.
The children holding prizes,
And wedding groups
And laughing girls in nineteen-twenties hats
And always, soldiers.
Brand-new young men all stiffly posed
In stiffly tailored brand-new uniforms
All different yet alike
Tall, short, clean-lipped or moustached
But always young.
The squandered husbands,sons and fiances
Whose pictures hung remembered
On, rose-patterned parlour walls
Who knows how long.
Outlasting all surviving love
And now brought here
By relatives too far removed to care.
One time a decent burial at the tip
Would have conferred some dignity
On these remains, now bought as kitsch.
"I've got to have him darling, he's so sweet."
Being, ourselves, above this kind of thing
We turn to share a brief embarrassed smile.
Your hand finds mine and linked
We seek the sunshine and the open air.
Our mood is clouded by our brush
With those whose lives and loves are gone
Seeing ahead a coming time when all
My strength your beauty dwindle to
A frozen shadow fading on some stranger's wall.

Copyright © Maurice Fairfield 2004


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Asia, Iraq, Poetry - My Beloved Country
By Michelle Dee.
A state of emergency has been announced
just like those years before
Ever since they invaded and started
this bloody war.
Nazim my lover I lost him,
when they blew him up,

Europe, UK, Poetry - AMOR VINCIT O By Carol Coiffait
Over the greasy cobbles of their youth
at night, they sometimes risk it; arm
in arm and slow as spring-time
seeking out the truth, the depth
of friendship in the nearest bars.
But once a week, on pension day
never mind the weather, they lock

Europe, UK, Poetry - Poem For November By Carol Coiffait
In 1914
Austria declared war on Serbia
Germany declared war on Russia
Germany declared war on France
Germany declared war on Belgium
Great Britain and therefore Canada, India,
Australia, New Zealand, South Africa & Newfoundland

Africa, Poetry - Mosi Oa Tunya
by Michelle Dee Clark
Smoke that thunders, masking the coming storm
Young men of Chinoyi disappear
Men and women tortured for telling the truth
Tyrannical regime, that's what they fear
And who, are they?

North America, Poetry - Guantanamo
by Lee Cassanell
The Lord is my Shepherd
And I am his Sheep

He keeps me in Chains
And he watches me sleep


Europe, UK, Poetry - Mermaid By Carol Coiffait
She swam beyond the realms of possibility
Lazed her days away in chilly pride
With such utter equanimity, that the North
Wind blew her back into hot water.
Well, she was her Mother's daughter
In a Pacific, non-specific sort of way
And she craved the lick of an ice-berg

Europe, UK, Poetry - Shingle Street By Carol Coiffait
Of course the waves help
She uses them for lift-off.
Out, past where they break
She waits for the seventh one
See, it's bigger than all the rest.
She leaps astride her boneless horse
And it lifts and flings her beach wards.

Europe, UK, Poetry - SINGING THE SPRING By Carol Coiffait
Be quick, be quick, be quick.
The thrush in May has no time for sorrow.
It sings in the wind on the only tree
left clinging to the ruined cliff.
Hawthorn, briar and furze,
salt-bitten grass, have all let go to slide
beach wards- whole allotments

  Europe, Uk, Poetry
Carol Coiffait
Photographs by
Andy Hogben
  Asia, Iraq, Soccer
Kurdish HASSG Lions and Qandil
Weekly look at this Kurdish and Qandil teams progress.
  Europe, Uk, Music
Riley Band

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