By: Safiyah I have these intense fantasies of spectating my own funeral; that I would die today and be the object of your melancholic affections tomorrow as I lay in the pathetic fallacy of a dark gothic cathedral in the middle of an unidentified plain. My troubles would be known to you all and conveyed … More A SELF-IMPOSED EXILE
By: Hammama Issa Every morning after breakfast you always savoured your coffee, One cup was all you needed to see you through the day, ‘You shouldn’t be out alone,’ I heard, A dark, murky lake outstretched before me – still and lifeless, The faint cigarette smell that lingered on your clothes, Faint boomerang scars … More HELLISH DELIGHT
By: Claudio Fedele Disturbing silence darkens your sight We’ll cast some light and you’ll be alright We’ll cast some light and you’ll be alright Lucy in the sky with diamonds The maid had left the manor just a bit more than five minutes before. She had given the last, final touch of polishing to … More LUCILLE
By: Sagal Haji They say that humans are social beings But I can’t seem to conceptualise The way we have to socialise Vain talk and vapidity Are thrust upon us As if it isn’t toxic To our hearts Our minds Searching for authenticity In world filled with dishonesty I feel out of … More SOCIAL BEINGS
By: Leila Vignozzi I was in the National Gallery the other day, and while I was wandering around I had some sort of deep connection with some of the paintings. I was in the Renaissance section, which is mainly composed of Italian works, the majority of which are from Florence, the city where I … More THROUGH THE EYES OF A PAINTING
By: Melissa Garrett In large cities and small villages live many cats, as they do in England’s capital. One of these cats lived at number ten downing street with the Prime Minister. This cat’s name was Billy. Billy, like any cat, spent time scratching behind his head, sending fur balls flying all over the … More A TALE OF THE CAT AT DOWNING STREET
By: Abbie Dunn There is a man who lives beneath a grey, decaying bridge. Of all the days I passed beneath this bridge, always in a rush, I had not once thought to take notice of him. Until one day, when the man beneath the bridge was gone. I recall walking at my … More THE MAN BENEATH THE BRIDGE
By Yasmin Rahim Gathering along the sill At dusk Collecting Like fibres of dust Falling, floating silently My figure wrapped In a blanket Of dust My being comes and goes Swells and disperses Swept away, by a soft blow Like dust The city is roaring Outside my window Yet I am here Aggravating dust Silent, … More WOMAN OF DUST
Wells Street Journal 