Waya

Kills me with laughter, on her sunny days, dances like a warrior, talks of a writer, bright and unfazed, who never left her mother, though she travels anyway, in a young beatnik phase, it brings me no surprise, hearing trains at midnight, when love holds sway, provides no alibi, for kisses in the rain, on St Bartholomew’s quay, wonder of each new day, morning cafe' fights, the pain of daughters’, a crucifix held high, . in winter’s river.

Valentina

Truth was never easy for you, especially this campaign, your breath warm fish glue, sits frightened on my lips, this is no child’s game, iron scabbard at the hip, what really is the news, chasing my days, with a man like you, who cannot be shipped, outside of slavery, a sheath of arrows tipped, olive leaves around your hue, golden trinkets silken days, disguise your crass virtue, better to love unhindered, face down outrageous claims, sail by stars to Ardith, is Glory on your blade ?

Ula

Won’t you let me see, his only rest in peace, he only asked for freedom, the consolation of his bones, a human soul or shady tree, beside these heaving boats, I sing you all a melody, a bitter chant of make believe, for your own eyes destiny, as you wait to board, this swarm of human seed, only one remains to load, the dancing lights of Italy, Lampedusa’s moonlit sea, rock of Simon Peter, Europe hear our moans, New York light a greeting, a shoreline bears his clothes, he sailed to enter history.

Tahlia

It is good to know, by travel, wine or grounds, when our life is over, a resistance to all moaning, wooden planks hold us down, light dancing on the loam, in the luminous dawn, you may wonder, when you dream of going, will you stand by water, sunlight at the ponds, Sunday in late October, how beautiful your show, your lips echo the bounds, where my passion flows, they’ll lower me down, after a lifetime in tow, their faces brown, love always around.

Sheila

More than any laughter, love brings me to my knees, like broken water, inflated or in despair, I can cry when I please, absent what I care, it’s not a slaughter, to that other disease, a used cartridge shell daughter, the manner of her fare, she knows why I’m grieving, but no time to share, she stands by the river, swears she'll never release, the name of those pictures, there’s a time to dare, in yellow nights of feasting, ask what is really out there, is this how I feel ?

Rae

A crescent moon at Easter, I know why I'm loved, but want to be free, surrounded by icy streets, I turn my jacket up, to a steady pea green sea, have I reached a breach, Our Lady holds a dove, no matter who gets released, it’s a cold light believing, in this time of trouble, if I can skip the seasons, by the ferry at Seacombe, I wander past dockside rubble, scream a daughter's feelings, no prayers for the cheaters, my family’s good enough, but cannot know the reason, why I cut so rough.

Quianna

Her day is just beginning, she dances in the tide, fresh and alive and kicking, she kills me with her spin, next to me like a bride, twists her lips like shillings, around a constant ciggy, tobacco blonde full of lies, a dancer if not delicious, like the river with water in, her smile beams estuary wide, watching my heart give, she isn’t free from sinning, who left a family’s side, but sailed in full trimmings, an Orphea used to thrill, a Gull made to glide, she demands her fill, sunlight, water, sky.