How to wake up by Pat Edwards

7th June 2017
By Robert Garnham

Always set an alarm, although you may not need it. Becoming fully awake is more a process than an event. My recommendations are as follows:

Accept that the sound made by your alarm is real, not imagined.
Accept also that it heralds the prospect of a day that requires your attention.
You would not have set an alarm if there was no imperative to get up and out.
Avoid thinking it is safe to close your eyes and drift a little.
We both know that you will fall into a deep sleep,
which will either precipitate lateness or a headache.
Acknowledge the presence of any other humans or animals sharing your bed.
Rushed or even luxurious hanky-panky is not recommended,
as this only makes getting up more complicated and/or upsets the pets caught up in the commotion. You could, if deemed thoughtful and/or encouraging, voice the fact that you did think about it, then move swiftly on.
Get some clothes on pronto, to discourage aforementioned prospect of a physical encounter,
and to preserve your dignity for Christ’s sake.
Do not try to make the bed immediately if persons or pets remain within its confines.
If they too have vacated, feel free to carry on.

That’s about it really.
It’s safe to assume that you are, in fact, up.
The awake bit may depend on caffeine, shower and other sundry paraphernalia but, essentially, you’re good to go.

Repeat ad infinitum as the alternative is, for the most part, singularly unappealing.

Pat Edwards is a writer, teacher and performer living in Mid Wales. Her work has appeared in publications such as Obsessed with Pipework, Amaryllis, The Fat Damsel, Picaroon, The Rat’s Ass and Ink Pantry. Pat runs Verbatim poetry open mics and is curating the 2017 Welshpool Poetry Festival.

A Painful Condition by Susan Jordan

27th May 201727th May 2017
By Robert Garnham

A while back she had the cartridge

removed from her knee. They put her

on stereo to reduce the information.

Then she had to have the cactuses

taken out of her eyes. Sadly her friend

contracted M & S and her husband

had trouble with his prostrate gland.

It made him incontinental, but his new diet

did wonders for him – polyurethane margarine.

But when she started going to Weight Lifters

that finished all of them. They had no-one

to turn to for consolidation.

Susan Jordan writes both poetry and prose. She has had poems published in a number of print and online magazines including Acumen, Ink, Sweat & Tears, Obsessed with Pipework and Snakeskin, and in Spilling Cocoa. Her first collection, A House of Empty Rooms, is coming out later this year.

Clog by Jonathan Humble

9th May 2017
By Robert Garnham

Clog

In search of worthy epithet to praise the lovely clog,

The poet’s mind went AWOL in a thick prosaic fog.

And though he searched as would the most creative pedagogue,

The words remained elusive like Idukki’s Purple Frog.

So he gave up …
Jonathan Humble is a deputy head teacher. He is the Poet Laureate for the Tripe Marketing Board and Rossendale’s Sunday Clog Market. Other than writing poetry and short stories, his hobbies include beard growing, pointing at poppies and keeping the international coffee industry afloat with his patronage.

The Rules of Salsa by Maeve O’Sullivan

6th May 2017
By Robert Garnham

The Rules of Salsa

1. Warm up beforehand.
2. Let the man lead.
3. Stay relaxed.
4. Let the man lead.
5. Take small steps.
6. Let the man lead.
7. Maintain your balance.
8. Let the man lead.
9. Tie your hair up.
10. Let the man lead.
11. Keep a straight torso.
12. Let the man lead.
13. Swing those hips!
14. Let the man lead.
15. Shoulders down.
16. Let the man lead.
17. Turn on a dime.
18. Let the man lead.
19. Never refuse a dance.
20. LET THE MAN LEAD!

Maeve O’Sullivan has published her poems and haiku widely over the last twenty years. She is the author of three collections of haiku / poetry from Alba Publishing. When not engaged in writing poetry or performing her work with the Poetry Divas (wearing boas), she works in education in Dublin.

Two Poems from Nick Littler

30th April 2017
By Robert Garnham

Vinyl #1

It’s my latest middle class obsession:
I’ve got into collecting vinyl records.
Yeah, I know it’s such a clichéd thing
To do, but there it is. And now it’s in
This poem I wrote, for which nobody asked.
Christ, I must be such an insufferable arse.

Vinyl #2

About two years ago I stopped abusing
Torrent sites to download all my music.
I got into the habit of travelling in
To town a couple of times a month to get
The things I wanted – CDs, books – and bringing
Them back, stuffed into plastic bags. And it
Was strangely satisfying. I had a routine.
About six months ago I changed it up.
I bought a record player – a pretty machine –
And started getting 33s. I stopped
At 78s. That seemed a step too far.
But I did come to love the faintly hissing
Needle in the groove. I took the car
To town at first, but much preferred the pissing
Rain to hit me straight. It seemed more pure
Somehow, the faintly hissing sound. I heard
The voice of angels in the noise, endured
The wetness and the din. I felt a certain
Calm. I sold the CDs and the books
And then the car. I didn’t want distractions
Anymore. And though I got some looks
From strangers, who considered it an infraction
When I gave my clothes away, it didn’t
Bother me. To friends, I bid good riddance,
Left my home, and ditched my family.
I ditched the record player. I was free.

Consommé Soup by Mike Gallagher

28th April 2017
By Robert Garnham

Consommé Soup

The hardest winter since forty-seven,
they said, builders moved
indoors to the factory,
made soup,
pushed trolleys, hauled loads,
chatted up the girls.

Boring though –
till Eddy Lynch
strayed to the roof,
found the sherry,
(industrial grade),
secret ingredient
of Crosse and Blackwell’s
consommé soup.

Ah, sixty-three,
the coldest year,
the warmest year,
since freezing forty-seven.

Mike Gallagher, an Irish poet and editor, has been published and translated worldwide. He won the Michael Hartnett Viva Voce award in 2010 and 2016, the Desmond O’Grady International award in 2012 and was shortlisted for the Hennessy award in 2011.
His collection, Stick on Stone, is published by Revival Press.

The Battle Hymn of the Bowling Green Massacre by Marcus Bales

25th April 201725th April 2017
By Robert Garnham

The Battle Hymn of the Bowling Green Massacre

No eyes have seen a massacre occur at Bowling Green
As non-existent soldiers met with students never seen
Where Kellyanne’s imagination lit her silver screen
Her lies go marching on.