New Poetry, Fiction, Essays

Poetry by D L Hume, Cathy Donelan, Dennis Moriarty, Chad Norman and Joan McNerney

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D L Hume lives off grid in the south of Tasmania. As well as poetry he contributes to the critique of ceramic art and has many years teaching and travelling. Many of his papers and other works can be found at https://www.davidlhume.com





Honouring the Beast. Part One

A breath of light
Fumed above the hill.
Tiny feet
Battered a corrugated gate
And wailed
Against their isolation.
Their mother bleated back
Keen for relief.

They had an appointment at six.
They turned over.
“Five more minutes”.
The rooster announced
What they already knew
And little feet
clattered the tin again.

He yanked back the curtain.
Most of the herd
Were already grazing
Lush spring growth,
Grass and clover,
Blackberry and wild rose.

In their boots and beanies
They were greeted at the gate.
By four long white faces.
They pushed their way in.
Patting and stroking
As they passed.
Buckets were filled
And bottles warmed.

He was fed first.
The biggest.
The bossiest.
The most precocious.
Led by the bucket
Through the gate
And down the hill.

With his nose
Still in the bucket
He stood quiet.
Until the clock ticked six
And a long barrel
Pressed against his head
struck him down.

His fall
A brief silence
Before spasms
Shredded dirt
And spat gravel
Like bullets
Into the serious air.

With a six inch blade
The slaughterman
Slit the throat lengthways.
An ejaculation
Steaming red
Stained the road,
Tracing the outline
Of the beasts head.

Topped and toed,
Hooked at the hocks,
He was winched high.
Flayed and gutted,
Ponderous ruminant stomachs
Slopped heavy
From their frame
Into the waiting barrow.

Flapping ears
Of dark brown liver
Were fished and separated.
A steaming heart too.
“He’s in fine condition.”
He remarked.
Ripping a pair of firm kidneys
From the gleaming white fat
That lined his loins.

The carcass swung
In the air
That nipped
At exposed finger tips.
“Thirty five kilos
Or better.”
He slapped the legs
That would soon become




Cathy Donelan is a writer from the West of Ireland. Her fiction has appeared in ROPESThe Honest UlstermanDodging The RainThe Nottingham ReviewSpontaneity and Blue Smoky Literary And Arts Magazine. Her poetry has appeared in The Galway Review, A New Ulster and The Blue Nib. She has won the December 2015 Poetry Pulse Prize and been highly commended in the 2016 Fool For Poetry International Chapbook Competition.



Canticum Eius

The mist hangs over Athenry,
its soft cadence
sings to the fields,
over rights long taken
and inbred into nation’s law,
echoed in the heart and womb
and minds too fragile to make sound
judgment as man.

It lays only a breadth above dew green blades
the fog, she speaks
whispered around those ancient stones
under the march of heavy, righteous feet.



Dennis Moriarty: I am 54 years old and live in South Wales UK. I am married with five children and six grandchildren. I run a contract cleaning company with my wife. I love to read, write poetry, walk in the hills of Wales and delight in the Welsh language.




Raven Day

Now is the noise of ravens
The sound of a man’s mind reconnecting
With the world,
His body discovering the finer points
Of freedom.
A gathering of the clan Corvidae,
A flock of dark shapes
Carved into the upper slopes of the
White sky.
And the day, a restless companion, and I,
Moving away
From the river where the water flowers
Like winter jasmine,
Up to the slopes under sanguine wings
Along a path
Stitched together with frost and the remaining
Flakes of last night’s snow.
The wind howling like a pack of wolves,
Until dusk
When we stumble upon a settlement of trees,
The frost
Bleached bones of grimacing winter,
And there on the very edge of darkness
We watched
The flock of black shapes darken perceptively,
Hearing the noise of ravens,
The valley and it’s ice age persona creeping
Closer. Closer.



Chad Norman, Truro, NS, Canada. His poems have appeared for the past 35 years in literary publications across Canada, as well as a number of other countries around the world. He hosts and organizes RiverWords: Poetry & Music Festival each year in Truro, NS.  In October 2016 he was invited by the Nordic Assn. for Canadian Studies to give talks on Canadian Poetry and read from his books at Borupgaard Gym in Copenhagen, and Risskov Gym in Aarhus, as well as other readings in both cities and Malmo, Sweden.  Because of that tour Norman has started the manuscript, Counting Coins In Denmark And Sweden.  His most recent books are Selected & New Poems, from Mosaic Press, and Waking Up On The Wrong Side of The Sky, from Grant Block Press, and a new book, Squall:Poems In The Voice Of Mary Shelley, is due out Spring 2020, from Guernica Editions. Presently, he also working on another manuscript, The Black Rum Poems.





In the beginning

there was

the red face-cloth;

it became the choice

during the visits

when we fell

for one another,

regardless of the doubts

and others’ belief in

the long-distance thing

never ever ever working.


In the beginning

there was (also)

the red panties;

they became the choice

the first night

we chose to touch,

never knowing

I too

would wear red


the suit I wore

on the day

we were married.





I am from Brooklyn, New York and fell in love with poetry when I was nine years old.  My first publication was in Young America Sings when I was fourteen. It has been a long and wonderful journey. After retiring from the advertising business, I have moved to lovely upstate New York near the Albany area.  The internet has been a boom to my publishing credits and so many of these ezines are outstandingly beautiful.  I feel we are in the middle of a golden age of poetry.

Joan McNerney’s poetry has been included in numerous literary magazines such as Seven Circle Press, Dinner with the Muse, Moonlight Dreamers of Yellow Haze, Blueline, and Halcyon Days.  Three Bright Hills Press Anthologies, several Poppy Road Review Journals, and numerous Kind of A Hurricane Press Publications have accepted her work.  Her latest title is Having Lunch with the Sky and she has four Best of the Net nominations. 





Haiku Cats – take your pick of the litter


the gingersnap cat stares as
I get undressed.

What does this cat think
strumming his tail with such ease
to fugues of Bach?
Shut Eye
Black and white kitten
lying under clothesline in
soft circles of sleep.
Street Walker

Calico cat
curving corners
against the cold.
Free Throw

A tiger cat with
big green eyes
tosses balls of yarn.





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2 poems by Cathy Donelan

Cathy Donelan is a writer from the West of Ireland. Her fiction has appeared in ROPES, The Honest Ulsterman, Dodging The Rain, The Nottingham Review, Spontaneity and Blue Smoky Literary And Arts

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