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By Julian Matthews -

She read a poem I wrote on laundry

And said she liked it

She said I'm prolific

Perhaps if she met me in person, she would know

I smell

and reek of dirty doggerel

and mucky metaphors

I am missing meter and cadence like socks missing their pair—

found under the washing machine a month later

with some bits of underwear

I stink of rhymes prostituted and drenched in cheap perfume

To please daddies, sugary or otherwise

I am a walking pile of a week's unwashed verbiage

Waiting for a line break

To be hung out to dry

And here's me making my last stanza

To separate the wordy whites from the coloured clichés and soppy delicates

So soak it in

Before I dye...


Julian Matthews is a former journalist expressing himself in the pandemic through poetry, short stories and essays. He is published in The American Journal of Poetry, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Beltway Poetry Quarterly, among others. He is based in Malaysia.

Updated: Apr 9, 2022

by Peggy McCarthy -

near buckets - aluminium and red plastic,

brimming with well-water and hot cows’ milk,

near drooping fuchsia and bristling heather

grazing my legs when I scouted the hills,

near old photos in the parlour press, faded faces,

their clear American smiles spanning the ocean between us.

And later by factory gates when the hooter blew,

and chimneys spewed the smoky breath of a winter day,

between vinyl threads, the chords sparking,

singing through me their every turning note.

I was born when I mouthed an answer

before the question was formed.

I was born was first published in Southword 41 in 2021.


Peggy McCarthy is an Irish poet who completed her M.A. in Creative Writing at UCC in 2021. She won the Fish Poetry Prize 2020, was shortlisted for The Wells Poetry Prize 2020, and won third place in the Oliver Goldsmith Poetry Prize 2021. She has had work published in Hold Open the Door, A Commemorative Anthology from The Ireland Chair of Poetry 2020 and Southword 41. She was born near Skibbereen in West Cork and lives in Waterford city.

By Phil Lynch -

a wedge of geese

in perfect flight formation

carve their way like arrows through the evening sky

I ask if you have seen them

you tell me no

but that you heard

their plaintive cries,

you tell me you admire their uncompromising

determination to make it

to their destination

you grab hold of me

my feet tread the air

I coast at ease in your trail, our flight path

carved between moon and stars

we make landfall


Phil Lynch lives in Dublin. His work has been published in a range of literary journals and anthologies, most recently: Skylight 47, The Honest Ulsterman, Vox Galvia, The Bangor Literary Journal, Live Encounters Poetry, Days of Clear Light, The Music of What Happens, and 2 Meter Review.

Phil was the winner of the live Intercompetitive Poetry/Spoken Word Competition, and a runner-up in the iYeats Poetry Competition. He was highly commended in The Bangor Lit Journal 40 Words Competition (2021), the Francis Ledwidge Poetry Competition (2021), and short-listed in a number of others. Phil is a regular performer at poetry/spoken word events and festivals in Ireland and has performed at events in the USA, UK, Belgium and France. His collection, In a Changing Light, (Salmon Poetry), was published in 2016

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