Okay, have a…

June 17, 2016


A Girl and her Bike…

June 17, 2016

Woman and Bicycle

Samhain/All Hallows Eve

June 17, 2016

After Life

I feel your loss more at this time
with the gathering of the dead.
I wonder if you are at the doorway
waiting to move on still.
How you loved this season
with its abundance of colour/ioldaite*,
the last traces of our own flowering
as we head for oblivion.
Today I watched the final venting
of parched autumn leaves draining
colour from my world with a ferocity
that matched your own as you struggled
to live and then to die.

*ioldaite is the Irish/Gaelic word multicoloured

Rona Fitzgerald

(Rona Fitzgerald was born in Dublin and lives in Glasgow. She has been writing poetry for about twelve years and her collection Oidhreacht / Inheritance was published by PERJINK PRESS, See HERE)

becomes the spell

June 17, 2016

Lights and benches

These are my eyes awake at midnight
smelling the muddy waters coursing down below
matters waxing sacred as put down to paper
fighting the night wind for my very next breath.
This town is a vagrant that stood its ground too long
every house illuminated with a haunting blue glow
electric eye candy radiating from nailed windows
onto empty streets – dark like caverns
beggarly, with the shadow of lurking violence.
The bile of hoodrat laughter echoes –
at every dark tormented turn
even the hustlers stay in the lamp light
waiting for felonmongers who never show
absent at their wearisome game.
This place is filled with angry Verucas
who cry for trees that are merely weeds
and wouldn’t fuddle from the same glass as me.
Eyes sunken and deaf from the cold wind
grasping desperately to my anguished,
hallowed text.

David Seaman

(David Seaman, author and poet, has had work published by Slice Magazine, Foliate Oak Online Literary Magazine, Birmingham Arts Journal, Downstate Story, Bluffs Literary Magazine, and Absinthe Magazine.)


June 17, 2016

Arslan Ahmedov

Two serving-girls in Tavistock said that the Pixies were very kind to them, and used to drop silver for them into a bucket of fair water which they took care to place for them in the chimney-nook every night. Once it was forgotten, and the Pixies forthwith came up to the girls’ room, and loudly complained of the neglect. One of them, who happened to be awake, jogged the other, and proposed going down to rectify the omission, but she said, “for her part she would not stir out of bed to please all the pixies in Devonshire.” The other went down and filled the bucket, in which, by the way, she found next morning a handful of silver pennies. As she was returning, she heard the Pixies debating about what they would do to punish the other.

Various modes were proposed and rejected; at last it was agreed to give her a lame leg for a term of seven years, then to be cured by an herb growing on Dartmoor, whose name of seven syllables was pronounced in a clear and audible tone. This the girl tried by every known means to fix in her memory. But when she awoke in the morning, it was gone, and she could only tell that Molly was to be lame for seven years, and then be cured by an herb with a strange name. As for Molly, she arose dead lame, and so she continued till the end of the period, when one day, as she was picking up a mushroom, a strange-looking boy started up and insisted on striking her leg with a plant which he held in his hand. He did so, and she was cured and became the best dancer in the town.

Classic and Contemporary Fairy Tales

Spells and stuff…

June 17, 2016

beautiful witch

Magick is a doorway through which we step into mystery, wildness, and immanence.

Phil Hine
Condensed Chaos


Then it was that the Morrigan, daughter of Ernmas, came from the fairy dwellings, in the guise of an old hag, engaged in milking a tawny, three-teated milch cow. And for this reason she came in this fashion, that she might have redress from Cuchulain. For none whom Cuchulain ever wounded recovered there from without himself aided in the healing.

Cuchulain, maddened with thirst, begged her for a milking. She gave him a milking of one of the teats. “May this be a cure in time for me, old crone,” quoth Cuchulain, and one of the queen’s eyes became whole thereby. He begged the milking of another teat. She milked the cow’s second teat and gave it to him and he said, “May she straightway be sound that gave it.” [Then her head was healed so that it was whole.] He begged a third drink of the hag. She gave him the milking of the teat. “A blessing on thee of gods and of non-gods, O woman!” [And her leg was made whole thereby.] Now these were their gods, the mighty folk: and these were their non-gods, the folk of husbandry. And the queen was healed forthwith.

Then Medb ordered out the hundred armed warriors of her body-guard at one and the same time to assail Cuchulain. Cuchulain attacked them all, so that they fell by his hand. “It is a dishonour for us that our people are slaughtered in this wise,” quoth Medb. “It is not the first destruction that has befallen us from that same man,” replied Ailill. Hence Cuilenn Cind Duni (‘The Destruction of the Head of the Dûn’) is henceforth the name of the place where the were. Hence Ath Cro (‘Gory Ford’) is the name of the ford where they were. And fittingly, too, because of the abundance of gore and blood that went with the flow of the river.

The Ancient Irish Epic Tale Táin Bó Cúalnge
Trans Joseph Dunn

Medusa in the Mirror

June 17, 2016


Early one morning I look into my mirror,
see a woman, all in all,
reasonably well-preserved, though at this hour
definitely not at her best,
eyes puffy with sleep,
the mark of a pillow on one cheek,
hair flying wild around her face.

I was born alone
live alone
alone will die.

Look upon me if you dare
feel feet legs breasts brain
turn into granite cliffs
where eagles soar.

My eyes are embers
My head seethes with writhing vipers.

Susan Castillo Street

(Susan Castillo Street has published two collections of poems The Candlewoman’s Trade, Diehard Press, 2003 and Abiding Chemistry, Aldrich Press, 2015. Her poems have appeared in The Missing Slate, The Stare’s Nest, Nutshells and Nuggets, I Am Not a Silent Poet, Snakeskin, Literature Today, York Mix amongst others.)