Indy

Smoking a lucky star, chasing numbers, going kicks the door ajar, right from the start, dreaming and bewildered, she bumped a bar, the same calendar, my Da says he wonders, jail will tear her apart, then she bought a car, wheels that thundered, laughs to see her park, ten years after my ma, i still hear her laughter, from the Apple and afar, she had a great heart, but all got bungled, didn't hear a truck's horn, love always hungers.

Harriet

I'll smell like an ashtray, Robin Camilla or Stevie, if I let them habitate, inside my dreams, they'll cut my wires, deep as a coal seam, let them go on their way, someone then will realise, what I want to say, listening to their schemes, all the old talk's ire, brushes a cackle of leaves, hung beneath December's days, mouthing being free, makes me whisper God's sake, run beside the icy sea, dance the tingling tide, that's where I want to be, riding on the sky.

Gracie

you're a fool to go away, the cafe'where i keep, guard to burn the flame, Ice and blue skies colors all my eye sweep, distances other why's, you had nowhere to go a leather coat for sleep, dancing year of the blow, the time your da died, set his pigeons free, the symbol of their line, Liverpool under snow, geese rise from the fields, my hair appears to grow, white on one side, sloping, honking, blowing, into a New Year's flight, struggle to keep it going, am I lucky just at ease, standing in the combing, calling on the breeze.

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.