Roshin

Those little bits of you, ignore schemes that immobilise, you need more than hooks, don't settle for any news, roll, dance, find someone wise, stay at sea, or brook, philosophers who soothe, only the edge is fine, find your own truth, read all your books, they always give reasons why, don't overlook, your piece of ruin, seize the time 'as mine,' wear jeans and shiny shoes, fall for anyone's Blues, try to inspire, why you always pay dues, take me to the fire.

Rori

My time gone by unspoken, not even drunk enough to try, afraid of kids, family broken, our place gone by boarded, beyond the grave here's a why, love here feels crowded, bridges where we stand soaking, outside heaven’s why, you look shrunk and folded, a mystery horizon foreboded, come on love you sigh, sing a song don't blow it, feels like i've been sold, being brave only to try, and question this summer’s form, to rescue god or coax, a button from the sky, not just some little token, more to wear with pride.

Ria

My weekend sings, des chit chat, une espresso, when no one rings me, the silent majority, dejeuner avec lavorro, have no time to sing, not for them the sea, Martini, Amaretto, my coastline is free, of consumptive vulgarity, no lunchtime cornetto, needs vitiate me, let them scream, pasta, wine, siesta i'm my best Sunday dream, say stupid things, at evening's excess stroll at my beach, a lonely success.

Rona

She wakes in golden belief, the sound of a Holsum van, and wonders about a novena, each dance is a feast, moves her like no one can, every tune lets them see her, like the wood colour season, the bars are full of men, she drinks within reason, they rise to greet her, she graces them with elan, each sea green evening, but barefoot pays the heating, its better than having plans, a cabin makes it easier, if communion is a keeper, between rich and poor man, justice brings no lesion, she won’t refuse women.

Qudira

You laugh like Camus, the desert doesn't frighten you, your flowers hang in ruin, we go to meet the few, my partner faintly rues, writers who exude, an almond like bloom, on a weary afternoon, against a sea looking blue, nothing here to scare you, just the yellow truth, poetry of her tunes, she 'phones someone new, 'pillow talk' she soothes, ‘we're at the Belle D'Omjou,' come and see the view, powdered to make you swoon, her fragrance like glue, saturates the room.

Quare

Your failed blown kisses, reach a maritime shingle, crying across the Ithmus, down the Atlantic, they dance and tingle, turn the blue vista, to wriggle from crisis, waves tight mingle, sea birds dash the sunlight, where you stand faceless, for the terms fingled, by a wind lashed gate, high on resistance, you hear my canticle, a quotation of pieces, sometimes you miss, the remain to be single, do you hold consistence, instead of a ring ?

Queenie

She pinned a shamrock on us, as if literature was our freedom, the ones from the Terminus, like a school bound mistress, puffed out her cheeks, she listened to our issues, on Atlantic avenue's blues, where the winds freeze you, she made us feel useful, Brooklyn’s steamy closeness, her retirement at St Stephen's, jellies, anniversaries, toasts, she died at the Angelus, listening to the Swingle singers, joy her last impetus, we stood around coming close, Fulton street market, oh Jesus, our dollars and fancy clothes, the bridge a nodding reason.