Featuring work from Meg Burrows, Matt Tomlin, and Alfred, Lord Tennyson.

Doll’s House
by Meg Burrows

Building on a foundation of sand,
the house was never meant to stand tall.
It had no ladder, no staircase, and no key
Just a lock.

Its ceilings had been lowered, hung, drawn and quartered,
by the bitter-sweet nothings falling in the night.
Bed sheets lingered on the stairwell,
mattresses longing for cover.

It had no ladder, no staircase, and no key
Just a lock.

* * * * *

Tell Me 

by Matt Tomlin

Silence spurs me,
Powerful lashings of secrecy scattered
Around your eyes like dust.
Minute, traceable, enticing
To my intrigue.

Waiting, whittling each second
Like shavings from wood.
It will be carved from you,
How hollow will you be?

* * * * *

Kat

by Meg Burrows

She lays in a haze of zeppelin rain,
her paws upwards, serenading the sun
and smiles to her neighbour, serendipity,
who plays with paw prints just for fun.
He lollops in the branch opposite,
a Cheshire smile glued in place with cream;
She calls him ‘Tommy – the – nap – cat’
who is forever in a dream,
of pouting goldfish and catnip,
of a place where all the alley – cats roam.
She laughs, he is mistaken,
purring on his throne.
She has no time for a Macavity,
that charisma can take its toll.
No, she’d rather share her tree with a cat of logic,
one that knows to rock but not to roll.

* * * * *

Two Trees

by Meg Burrows

Their trees are found in a forest of the deep forever,
so entwined into the inconceivable,
they are no longer sure where their own leaves touch the sky.
Branches tangle in all direction and roots of one anchors to the other like a vessel on the waves of a dancing sea.
They greet each other for the morning, the evening, their leaves morphing into colours, growing, dropping and growing again.
Yet, they stand far enough apart to spread small hands out onto the clouds and to make their own indent of pathways and lines.
They’ve been together like this longer than we will ever comprehend and will do so long after we ourselves have spread our wings and flown from their branches.
For their trees are immortal, rooted in each others presence, forever and always in the forest.

* * * * *

The Mad House

by Matt Tomlin

Floating along the walls,
Hilarious hush.
In here we are, I am, we are
Lucid, reasonably unreasonable
And perfect hosts.

Floating, for walking is calm.
I am not collected, we are scattered.
Drowned in the bathroom,
Skinned in the kitchen,
Relaxed in the lounge.
Hanging in the hallway,
Tortured in the loft.

The garden is for repose.
We can’t forget ourselves.
We relive sanity so we can best
Practise madness.

* * * * *

Ostenstad in Requiem 

by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Ostenstad of Haugesund,
Long-forgot saint, Viking of lore
Once Rover, then Ranger,
but Citizen before

Ostenstad of Haugesund
Heaven called to her child of yore,
He returns to Valhalla;
a Viking once more.

 

* * * * *

 

My Chocolate Shop

by Meg Burrows

Ladies and Gentlemen, for your contemplation
I give you the Megorium Emporium of cocoa creation!
Where warm Ganache tumbles onto the tongue
and chocolate peppermint twists have all of the fun.
Where soufflés melt on top of themselves,
oozing out chocolate all over the shelves.
Where milk chocolate kisses tap-dance and shake
and coffee and cream serenade beautiful cake.
Where ginger and orange go out in the dark
and round up a party of raspberry hearts,
Who long to be saved by a white chocolate knight,
who’s valiant and brave and will put up a fight,
To the fruits and the nuts who always have their way,
never allowing the beetroot or chilli to say
“Hey, we’re good in chocolate too, any day!”
It’s where you’ll find cupcakes and biscuits and muffins galore,
all dressed like afternoon fancies with icing and more.
It’s where cheesecake meets fridge cake meets chocolate abyss,
where ice cream and cherry share a sugary kiss.
It’s where truffles stand tall, boasting the most,
Fairtrade cocoa and playing the host,
welcoming you in and giving a dose,
of perfectly Divine Chocolate, the one we love most.

Welcome, one and all, to my chocolate abode,
a place of sweet heaven, of jubilant odes.
To wonderful chocolate of the highest degree,
something on which we all can agree,
is a necessity, a comfort, a true certainty.
To the happiness of life,
we owe a chocolate or three.