Lola-Rose Yussuf, aged 11 years, wrote this poem after attending a Black Lives Matter peaceful protest in the Guildhall Square, Portsmouth. Lola-Rose told S&C, ‘I am amazed at the amount of positive feedback from the [… read more ]
An Isogram is shy of icons It only likes sole runes alone No want for right or for wrong And a word as bare as bone Pangrams, however, need them all: Judge my vow, [… read more ]
I tell my children you are here because in 1913 a Maori chief gave the captain of HMS New Zealand a piupiu, a skirt made from flax. A ceremonial gift with the prophecy [… read more ]
A trolley bus clatters on sparking wires, the bowling alley echoes through thick smog, cathedral with no roof but bell and spire, school dinners all year round, Noggin the Nog. A concrete slab, a prefab, [… read more ]
By Helen Salsbury I went in search of the plot, in the metaphorical forest, where all the trees looked the same. I went with an older, American Writer, who’d seen it all before. ‘The story,’ [… read more ]
I will build a great, great wall on our southern border, and I will have Mexico pay for that wall. I will build a great, great wallaby on our southern bore, and I will have [… read more ]
By Amanda Garrie We used to stand on street corners watching old men, fit for the slag heap, wondering if that were it: destined for the pit. We’d smoke our shag, curse everything and spit. [… read more ]
Breaking the long black silence they shyly call darkness be gone darkness be gone ancestral melodies stir the still damp air light is coming light is coming tiny shining eyes watch [… read more ]
We gathered on the Common were searched at the gate for illicit chairs – no dispensation for me. We watched the ukulele rap duo and waited for the voices our bums on beanbags on rainbow [… read more ]
I am the sea I would live and die here (with grace, as our ancestors did) If I could outswim this spike embedded in my side I never dived to the depths wanting [… read more ]
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