Emma Three

Who hasn't thought, alone and vexed, about what we’ve been taught, a drink of wine, the burdens of text, anniversaries supine, what we could have bought, trying to live our best, life is short, with lovers Online, who’ll pop up next, wasting our time, generally divorced, lying through a spun web, drunk and overwrought, unspoken down the line, I'm sorely perplexed, love’s not a crime, cast a bed of noughts, a pregnancy test, is not to be forced, filed like the rest.

Emma Two

you have such giving ways, you bring me Bollinger, on my birthday, what can we do alone, without the sense, to live for our time, wine pours down my face, it’s like a Christening, you slice the Angel cake, are we here or gone, without a stitch to spin, laugh at the unknown, frazzle the waste, our jellied lives crowned, when called upon to pray, we roll and pitch astern, like rhythms of the sea, will our trips atone, on greatest days, awash with slips, find easy to celebrate, your beautiful spirit.

Emma

A painter of religious scenes, she dabs around a glaze, a thirty-year-old dream, regards the work she’s honed, never wise in this game, to think it’s set in stone, in yellow days of sunbeams, she even feels the same, images not what they seem, the canvas lets her roam, a sketch of wooden nails, in many ways she's gone, a matchstick in the sea, bobbing without a name, floating for eternity, work's too hard to own, the pull of certain days, in this ocean town, her body cries for relief, deep brown eyes are crazed, her mind is never easy, she nails another frame.

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.