Ava

Who will tend our bones, listening to the rain, does a river run alone, let our song ring, on suburban trains, the thrush we hear sing, herring gulls that soar, may we see again, hear their eerie moans, their cries a broken thing, these winter days, driving before the sea, swore we’d never go, just to count our gains, birds already know, when we fight with everything, they always find a way, drain all our suffering, Spring will come again .

Zizi

Stumbled steps at evening, heart beats like a hurricane, stripped of an Ocean breeze, at times a summer whistle, by some haunted door frame, a drumming metal twisted, a wish, more than anything, how different is your game, Oh we missed those scenes, the sight of you forgetful, leaving from the station, a face torn and fretful, your fame on cafe' ceilings, a portable serenade, now you adjust our feelings, you arrive again by ship, blown in like any freighter, rake us with your lips, give us back our names.

Yolande

She hates the dull why, the pleadings for freedom, in sought after light, but what is she doing, making chocolate marina, painting yellow fascia’s, a drink of the wine, fire tunes her seasons, she will be fine, night boils her troubles, afternoon's her reason, it makes her days frozen, who knows the time, the walls of this prison, christened by a child, the kids will get through, regular as the heating, lilac as an evening tune, their faces awry, beneath a moon’s steeple, to chant without crying, all of love’s leavings.

Ximena

My security and hope, stretches out on lovely days, I know I’ll always cope, will go home soon, in a sun that flays, all the pockmarked yellow stone, down New York’s City slopes, can feel its rays, splice all of Brooklyn’s ropes, when evening’s blue, debt are paid, so many with their dues, do my parents know, how I pray, indifferent skies unfold, clouds chase by like schooners, who needs a quota of praise, I am not a loser, to wonder at my gains.

Wyona

Your tunes still trace, patterns on shimmering trees, from my blue pathways, add them to a shipwreck, a pirate roving sea, I’ll spill a golden confession, on swollen straits, I kick my heels, down cluttered seaways, can't feel my knees, but I still see dreams, you cry too easy, before a mass one Sunday, bread, wine victory, torn netting wood and sail, your privateer schemes, billow before me, like a broken creed, your howl is lovely.

Vicky

Dancers are ill at ease, with spiritual gain, it molests their release, with ladies, girls and women, I feel their technical gaze, am sweating like an oven, Our Lady holds the beam, on cold lit Sundays, no matter what they sing, my Ma is all scorn, lost within her ways, forgets what I adore, she'll invite herself along, chant without praise, my most precious songs, on trips to the sea , you won't wear grey, no need to argue, where love has no shame.

Una

Can you love me, your eyes like fireflies, in the way you sing, look at me, I whisper, they dance like satyrs, say what you think, you make believe, two bottles gone by, this Sunday on the lee, one side of the river, our thousand nights, made you quiver, dancing on the beach, exploring all you like, you buzz like a bee, do you want to live, and not ask why, this side of the Ocean, where we collide?