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The Lonely Side My name is Homeless I carry myself in this bag On this lonely side of the street I walk down the street on my feet I smell their fear when we meet I look down at shoes not at eyes I hear the repulse in their sighs I want for the meat of their teeth I feel the quick cringe just beneath I thirst for the taste of their wheat I sink with their stare at my need I ache with the need to entreat I cry at the heat of defeat I live the long nights of that shame I’m sore with the fingers of blame I know that they would me delete I walk down the street on my feet On this lonely side of the street I carry myself in this bag My name is Homeless Click to hear the poet read the poem.
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Food Bank Another working day, Twelve hours with the elderly, Waiting for my pay, Loving family tenderly. Nothing to report but, Dreading the journey home, Claiming income support, No credit on my phone. Another payday loan, Council flat is dank, In shadow seeds are sown, Waiting at the food bank. Britain Needs Gurdwaras There are 300 Gurdwaras in the UK, A little-known statistic, If you’re hungry, they will feed you, This gift of community ensures survival, Filling hearts and bellies. All ages, all creeds, all needs, good deeds, No questions asked, just humanity with a smile, Our flesh and blood are the same, just different, A first world country, leaning on community efforts, Dedicated volunteers lift spirits, When there’s nowhere else to go, What happened to social mobility? Rising beyond origins, carving success? A lost term among hidden beneficiaries, As teenagers we talked of eradicating child poverty, Eradicating world hunger, yet here we stand, Poverty and hunger in a first world country. Politicians shrug shoulders – let’s set up a working group, A Royal Commission to report back in five years, Some subjects are too big for one lifetime and a million politicians, There’s enough food for us all, you know, not just the few. Gurdwaras show society the errors of its ways, They offer true leadership, true ambition, true humanitarian love.  Born in Manchester, England, Vince first started writing poetry influenced by the 'punk' poet, John Cooper Clarke in the mid-1980s. Since then he has travelled extensively and enjoys writing about both beautiful and disturbing things. Coming from a tough background, Vince recognises the difficulties of ordinary people. He works as a trainer helping people overcome the fear of public speaking.
Loaves and Lilies There is this Chinese proverb stating that, when you have only Two pennies left in the world, you should buy a loaf of bread With one and a lily with the other. Which is a good illustration Of an admirable message – feeding not only the stomach but Also the soul… man cannot live by bread alone… those sorts of Sentiments. But there is now a higher truth that involves altruism And our common humanity: spend one of your pence on a loaf For yourself and the other on a loaf for a faraway fellow human Who is desperately hungry. Involving a lack of lily, conceivably Compensated for by my sense of virtuousness – of having done The ‘right thing’. But here, for me at any rate, there is a bit of a Problem. Call me greedy or selfish if you must but I favour the Lily before me to the temporarily satiated individual, unknown to And distant from me, noble though my gesture might have been. So, what to do? Possibly fourteen of us should share the lily in Question between us and dispatch a baker’s dozen loaves to a Zone of famine – and there are multitudes of those. But, here Again, that doesn’t work for me: I want my lily, not a share in a Lily but sole ownership thereof. Any other ideas? Well, how about We clear the fields and we provide the grain and the agricultural Implements and some fertiliser, thereby enabling those starving People to produce loaves (possibly alongside lilies) themselves? Which involves some initial sacrifice on my part (half a loaf is Better than no bread) but, in a year or two, I would not need to Go without my lily and my conscience would be clear. What’s That – the rich landowners have seized the land? The villagers Have eaten the seeds? There’s no money to fuel the equipment? The fertiliser fails to meet environmental standards? Let us face It, there are some questions without answers, some problems Without solutions. I’ve certainly enjoyed my daily bread but I see That my lilium convallium has finished flowering. It must now be Deadheaded, pruned, cut back, and mulched in readiness for the Year ahead and so I’ve just no time to think further about hunger. BIO: MIKE DOUSE has worked in education internationally since 1963. His publications include An Enjoyment of Education, One World One School, and numerous journal articles and conference presentations, along with four collections of his poems: Old Ground, Gone to Ground, Grounded and Groundhog Nights. He is living happily ever after in South Wales with his dear wife Patricia.
The Recipe may take its name from the country of birth or from the author, but depends on the right amount of ingredients in the right order: no higgledy piggledy. Although tastes have proved as fickle as simile, the seas dishes sail in are groups that rise and fall in frequencies that follow whales feeding in plastic fields. Between the poetry and metaphor, between our finger and our mouth, hangs an image of a starving child above rivers of uneaten flavour. The lost recipes of Eden live in golden grains of singing wheatfields.  Deirdre is an award winning playwright and poet. Her first book of poems 'The Language of Coats' was published by New Island Books and includes the poems which won The Listowel Poetry Collection Prize. 'The Mermelf-A Fable for Our Times' was published by Austin and Macauley in April 2024 and is a verse novella for younger readers.
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