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Nick Bantock, Howard Young, Laura Hemmington, Marcelle Newbold

BULB

Howard Young

I am born of the holiness in the flower

That precedes me and follows me, in the one moment

I am the axis of the circle around which my time spins,

I weave the earth and grow, settled in winter

Exploding in the the far spring

I am always glorious in my own imagination, and yours

I am expectation, and hope

One day, falling through the tumbling years I will be broken by my own wheel,

The power will run out, my husk will crack,

I will spill out my stories into the pale earth around me

And become the fractured mirror of my own dreams.

But you are no different, walking the pathways with indifference,

I know what you are thinking all the time

Because it's always the same

You seek the light in greed and aspiration

Walking the lands of your dreams, stoking fires

With your own waiting, panting breath,

You think success will last like the sun

But even as you hold hands with your expectation

The light fades on the pale afternoon,

All arrogance will fall,

Autumn leaves and Spring blossom

Are all trodden down on the garden path -

If you ever join me in the earth it will surely be too late.

MOTHER HEARTH

Laura Hemmington

What is a hearth, flame fallen,

the floor the ceiling draughts

of separation, the only heat your pulsing

frame. The cavern wells to your touch.

You crouch in the damp earth

scent the writhe and spit of moss

the spores that hold the line

of old blood, a body split from skin.

You steady yourself from the gaze

held by wet walls of stone scraped

to lines of meaning, where drips

of lime and chalk grow tall as melted wax.

What is a hearth in a fallen house,

a whispering cliff and a fox to dig out

her shape in the pit, whorled. Mother

turned to hidden flame, tail russet

as your coppering hair that no longer rains

as shells strung from lintels.

Mama. As dust she is eggshell and lavender

a rosemary glyph, loose clutch of digitalis—

pressed and paper bells, her gloves are off

you cup the heart that brought you home.

THE FOREST WANTS, WE KNOW THIS

Marcelle Newbold

scents the air, tests a tremor of leaves,

breathes the quiet. Impatient, fresh greens

unfurl their extravagance, a bloom

or two peacocks, calls us.

Canopies part, suggest a fated den,

directs will. Low boughs discreet our beauty,

patterns a rhythm - sonorous, iambic.

We lay, altared, honoured guests,

as the forest slowly feasts.

Nick Bantock was schooled in England and has a BA in Fine Art (painting). He's authored 30 books, 11 of which have appeared on the best seller lists, including 3 books on the New York Times top ten at one time. The best selling ‘Griffin and Sabine’ stayed on that list for over two years. His works have been translated into 13 languages and over 5 million have been sold worldwide. Once named by the classic SF magazine Weird Tales as one of the best 85 storytellers of the century. He has written articles and stories for numerous international newspapers and magazine’s. His paintings, drawings, sculptures, collages and prints have been exhibited in shows in UK, France and North America. Nick has a lifetime BAFTA (British Oscar) for CD Rom ‘Ceremony of Innocence’, created with Peter Gabriel’s Real World. For 20 years he’s spoken and read to audiences throughout North America, Europe and Australia. Given keynote and motivational speeches to corporations and teachers state conferences. He’s worked in a betting shop in the East End of London, trained as a psychotherapist, designed a house that combined an Indonesian temple, an English cricket pavilion and a New Orleans bordello. Between 2007 and 2010 he was one of the twelve committee members responsible for selecting Canada’s postage stamps. Among the things he can’t do: Can’t swim, never ridden a horse, his spelling is dreadful and his singing voice is flat as a pancake.

Howard Young is the author of To Know The Way Back published by Sunday Mornings at the River Press. He also is one half of The Chalk Lines a Sussex musical collective with work out recently on Bandcamp. He is a sculptor and artist. He lives in Brighton, with his family and far too many books.

Laura Hemmington is a writer and freelance copywriter who lives on the Isle of Wight with her husband and their cat. Her poems have appeared in Crab Creek Review, No Contact, Lucent Dreaming, Black Bough Poetry, and The Madrigal. She's currently working on her first book.

Marcelle Newbold's writing explores place, inheritance and domestication. Bridport Prize shortlisted, her poems have been widely published by Propel, Ink Sweat & Tears, Black Bough Poetry, Indigo Dreams and others. Marcelle lives in Cardiff, Wales where she practises as an architect. @marcellenewbold