Emily

Mary the Catholic Queen, would not let the clamps, be attached to her Wean, for son James's baptismal, common for left footers, she waved Scots holy missal, all about that scene, I heard of unlit lamps, out to crush her dream, she never turned to fossil, refused to act a tramp, escape the blade's long kiss, like a Sunday has been, an out of town chancer, she rode seemly thru Stirling, they mourned her passing very few danced when they heard what happened, what a bloody heave, I was reading of her past, in New York's central library, my face was damp.

Della

By the garden door, of Our Lady of Sorrow, we witness the poor, across Catherine Street, their eyes forlorn, seeking linen and charity, the soul of lost hordes, accompany them home, some laugh as they walk, who needs fresh sheets, when they can wallow, to this state of being, commissioned then taught, you don't need to follow, when all truth is caught, swollen and breached. and every part swallowed, twisted and divvied, spun to a perfect nought, so never need to borrow, even their teeth , between moon and sea.

Chelsea

In a supermarket yard, her lovely face crossed, torn by pain and dark, naked uncovered yet, her trolley for a host, to where they lay bets, a spirit without a spark, laid out here in frost, its a rare clerk, not put to the test, when clearing up the cost, smiles at their best, she also works at Primark, and shops at Hugo Boss, the contrast's too stark, who could ever forget, what hurts the most, death so close to a convent, if there's ever a chart, to work out our trust, bring food to no lost, no one's beneath us.

Brianna

Stuck in the cafe' lanes, you just don't know, what you have to pay, the same with John Doe, and other one time Beaus, which way it will go, just when you say, God give me a show, someone else turns up late, boy they break my bones, think that if I dance slow, they can take me home, forget finding a mate, winter rills are full of snow, tell them I have to skate, need lightness not groans, wine to sip not jersey Joes, have no need to atone, starting New Year's happy day, listening to the wind blow, laughter rises up again, shines my soul.

Avery

By a train last night, I swore faithfully , no more just the sights, travelling to Naples, the train rocks me gently, it says everything's OK, we talk of a writer, called Andrea Camilleri, you kiss me quietly, stars know when they're made, glamorous, perfect, serene, it makes me scared, images best taken in light, show what others don't see, why so many have cried, look at how they sway, the poor on the streets, begging at St Anthony's quay. bless Saint Philip Neri.

Zara

Your house beyond the dunes, roses listen at the sky, does death bring us truth, all poets die intestate, however much they lie, is this a time for rage, even God is not immune, don't put his love aside, he's not one to dupe, fire burns in the grate, look up and give a sigh, anchors bind my feet, it isn't me you fool, dancing in the tide, you know who loves you, all our petty hates, left hanging out to dry, lover's fervant states, come to say we're through, pilloried troubled nights, God what a crew, doubts go from your eyes.

Yannie

Can you remember the sea, its swell and the spray, our dance of Thebes, now the kids have gone, snowbirds flown away, it looks after its own, we dance on windy beach, at the end of our days, all's within our reach, yet parts of the home, lie suddenly drained, we find ourselves alone, you tickle my feet, guide me like a stray, my troubles ease, across winter fields, furrowed into fine lace, I forget my worries, catch views like these, little wonder why I pray, buy me chips and coffee, introduce me to Cocaine.