Davy Three

Do you remember the sea, the swell and the spray, our dance of Thebes, now the kids have flown, gone away, have their own homes, we dance on the beach, at the end of the day, our loving out of reach, each part of the gloam, is suddenly drained, somewhere I’m alone, you grab my feet, show me the way, my troubles cease, I'm windblown happy, I hold your face, forget the party, catch moments like these, it’s why I pray, buy me chips and mushy peas, listen to what I say.

Davy Two

My house lies in ruins, roses bow beneath the sky, death doesn’t bring truth, all Chefs die intestate, however, things may lie, better than my cupcakes, even God is not immune, when there's love inside, he won't be duped, fire burns in the grate, see them how they cry, laughter on their plates, it isn't me you fool, waving in the tide, seeking out the tunes, all our different ways, we leave out to dry, all my lovers' faces, they come to sing Boo Hoo, their poisoned eyes alight, a relieved and laughing crew, debts put aside.

Davy

In any place, when you figure it, there's always an Old Lady, while the kitchen shakes, chefs toil in fits, to get a living wage, they’re all on the make, with these new gadgets, that circle this space, my back is out the race, no mouth can spit, around this pain, it spins before my face, a lover in a launderette, puts me out the game, hangs me on a door frame, music from a Tablet, plays again and again, it'd be wrong to say, love doesn’t exist, but the wife and my mate, look like they’ve hit.

Monica Three

Sometimes with this pay, you just don't know, what it takes, the same with those, who forget to show, don't understand the flow, and when you say, give me a blow, another one turns up late, they break your bones, as if they know, you can’t get by alone, you really need a mate, sunlit hills come with stones, you'll have to wait, the café trade is slow, red wine’s not to waste, a crowded bar would atone, for some a happy day, listening to a jazz solo, a cigarette to taste, it brings me home.

Monica Two

In a supermarket yard, her lovely face etched, by rain and dark, worn not defeated, the trolley she leans across, where they take bets, a spirit brims with spark, put there to rest, it's a rare clerk, not put to the test, when clearing this park, to be at their best, she works at Waitrose, and shops in Netto, but life is so stark, she can never forget them, they don’t soar like larks, precise in their movement, says if there’s a chart, to make our corrections, give food to no marks, we are all vagrants.

Monica started again 17th April only to keep posting thru the crisis

Smoking a lucky star, chasing numbers, going out the door ajar, the same calendar, my sister says 'i wonder', she's a great heart, then she bought a car, near the Rotunda, should have seen her park, right from the start, out of kilter, she hits the tar, all in tears our Ma, ten years later, we still hear her laughter, it finishes our Da, the loss of a daughter, stores pictures in a barn, love always hungers.

Ellen Three

My vision comes quite late, it's not easy to believe, what I have to say, you rolled within my thunder, exploded like a spree, lost in moans and numbers, you'll find out one day, if you let me keep, plans you’ve thrown away, my mind is uncluttered, inside screech, who needs love, I won’t stand in the way, of your retreat, or make any last refrain, it makes you wonder, stones, graves, wreaths, who splits who asunder, the memory of your face, is easy to receive, the poetry of our days, always by the sea.