Bianca

In the yellow light of June, night is blue and flows, stars polished like jewels, no matter what we fling, the wind is fierce and bold, it knows our little dreams, what's wrong with the moon, and loving to roam, it makes our features bloom, like luck or a thing, when we’re on the ‘phone, that’s a place to sing, there’s always space for news, to tell us if we're cold, riding down this avenue, in days gone of Spring, how did you know, my name was on this ring, never a time to be alone.

Ann Marie

My bus weaves a ragged run, tied to a third interregnum, now please leave me alone, don’t pity us poor joes, life didn’t pass a magnum,, a river won’t wash our bones, anyone can pull a con, even just a simulacrum, to find one golden certitude, an even break for those, who sing to life C’mon, but don’t have fancy clothes, they call these oceans God, but dance like poorhouse bums, when they want or slump, it’s for young ones gone, such silence waves forlorn, here I am staying mum, walking down the road..

Zoey

Here's a wish for you, who do you think comes first, with all the stuff you do, wish I’d never been born, ask if you ever thirst, when summer ends forlorn, a canticle, the sea is blue, you haven’t time for mirth, to know when home is due, in a book or on the 'phone you pick a trail well versed, to know you’ll be alone, will you arrange another cruise, to make me worse, riding in your Subaru, places where all debt is gone, stars and sails converse, their reach beyond the sun, Hombre beware.

Yara

Love is a breakfast test, in this summer, of trauma, don't I feel blessed, sailing dangerously, with a would be Cassanova, all his troubles start with me, they roll around my head, this tremendous performance, the metaphorical duplicity he sheds, howling like a banshee, his complaints grow enormous, I bend like the breeze, the radio roars its manifest, everything inside me falls, goes weak, seeks wine at 8 am, shocking that he's never at ease, a boat rocking in a storm, I try to calm the sea , call upon the holy ghost.

Zanna

Who do you want to suffer more, me or your blessed mother, outside the opera in Baltimore, from a perfect sunny evening, the kids looked after by others, all your money on Diva's, scaling down knowing the score, in a life between the covers, who do you think you are, certainly wiser than me, in your cotton suited summer, Ray Bans on the seat, sunlight on the terrace floor, music offers you a lover, everything inside is stored, you drink a long Campari, the dusk’s a dark red colour, an Atlantic bay like Brittany, have you reached the bottom ?

Xantara

Give me children and dogs, you be what you are, lost in a hazy fog, help me realise, what's gone on so far, with someone unwise, is this what you want, waiting by the river Alt, a tidal rose in your car, west of these broken skies, the sea is like a scar, south of me sideways, you say you walk a lot, all my fires are marked, will you reach that far, or can your love suffice, assign me what I want, little ones would be nice, beneath astonished stars.

Whitney

Singers dream of home, Arenas are lonely places, even wearing cotton, we glide across the night, that really is our fame, how the world seems bright, heaven to look upon, the scent of our grace, we shine like polished stones, from summer nights, or gas fired winter cafe's, how different is our flight, that path ahead unknown, carried on buttered waves, to wash our fierce aplomb, waiters glow in fairy lights, carry cognac to our table, orange gold in artifice, through a mirrored pane.