Category: Poetry

Taking pictures at funerals by Romina van Maaren (Lucent Dreaming Issue 8)

Hold still While time passesFor us, not youThe flowers look lovelyOn your clear light woodI almost feel the warmthWith my eye’s hand,Smooth and a splinter Hold still While I remove itAt least there is sunwarmthAnd a nest against the skyLight blueLight veinsWhen we lift the spiritTo the underworld Hold still You are focusedWe are blurredThe spirit we fight is oursYours

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The Catacombs of Coal by Jane Burn (Lucent Dreaming Issue 8)

They craved a cloistered bounty. Exhumed this great wonderof our industrial age, set their skill to drift and shaft, blinkedtheir way to wealth through an opening of dusky adit eyes. They made a history of wheels that carried even children to hellin a cage. The gouged seams bled with gas, damped with chokeand blistered with sudden flame. Deep and dark

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I’d like to spend a day within your mind by Sam Hickford (Lucent Dreaming Issue 8)

& make a tent out of loose-fitting neurons:a tabernacle in the daily grindof contrapuntal voices overlapping.I’d like to spend three years inside your mind& build a temple & a sacred site –an icon made of cerebrospinal fluid.I made a cistern. Through the pitter-patterof thoughts attacking like a thunder-stormthere is a reservoir which draws the massof hopeful yearnings, duly dissipatedin the

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Moving again by Molly Howell (Lucent Dreaming Issue 8)

Moving againTrees blur by window burrsDuvet covers soft against toesPlastic stars on ceiling beamsNavigating thoughts by their fluro lightAs I sitThinking of tomorrows flightMissing what is hereNowThis holdingWanting to be heldDoes that require stillness?Moving again from this feeling of home grown in no time at all and all the time in the worldWalls are made of paperThat get sketched and

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Kelafonia, 2015 by Angeliki Ampelogianni (Lucent Dreaming Issue 8)

The summer I was walking barefoot, everywhere.From your house on the hill to the beach, the asphalt burning my heels. Barefootto the mini market for garlic and tomatoes. Later, to the beach bars for Zombies and Mojitos,my sandals in my hands, wearing a strapless dress and my salty hair. Barefoot from the kitchento the balcony, overseeing the Ionian sea. Tipsy

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The Open Drawer by Alice Willington (Lucent Dreaming Issue 8)

the sky is insidea dark bright blue edged gold and redcuriously still lifted outthe dawn shivers clouds appearred printed roses mist stretches across fieldsmy hands are cold caught in the hedgerowshemming the dress Alice Willington won second prize in the 2009 Ledbury Poetry Competition and in 2012 was included in Lung Jazz, an anthology of British poets under forty. Her

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Sputnikola by Lew Furber (Lucent Dreaming Issue 8)

There are two things you can do while waiting for eyelash glue to dry: you can wonder what kind of wave to give the people in the glass-bottomed boat of mediocrity as the arc of your life crests under their little viewing window and disappears into the murk, or you can watch a drag queen fall from the sky into

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Space Gun by M Chambers (Lucent Dreaming Issue 8)

Bright nebulas light the round eyes,As the hand boy-stretches towards the shelf.Fingers close lovingly round the prize,Not plastic and paint but space-hardened metal.Not lights and sounds, but endless adventures.The shop vanishes; he is gone.He is leaping across deserts towards a fabled city, on the edge of a silver sea.Wrestling with monsters, gargantuan, unspeakable,In the raw visceral depths of some alien

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Vorest Boar by Bethany Handley (Lucent Dreaming Issue 8)

Over the mines and under the oaks, the cratur ploughsthrough the bracken. Followed by a dozen humbugsit oiks and tosses the drying moss, pizzin’ the vorest,the nesh ground crumples and flumps, releasingthe hum of the miners as the boar snaps daddocky:thou’ it the song as they hauled up the dipple, tushinthe coal from the heart of the Dean. Armed with

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