The Last Star

It was a cold, gloomy night 
when I received such a fright 
I doubt I’ll be able to explain the sight, but I just might!
I was staring at the grey, thinking about the day.
 I watched the sun go down 
and the stars fill the sky 
when I received a surprise. 
A star came to me and it said Good luck (for what I did not know).
 I stared out to see, not just stars.
I saw planets and black holes, the mysteries of space and souls.
 I looked behind to see Earth glow,
 Then a Blast. 
The last. 
Earth was blown to pieces and lost to the void of space, 
never to see another face.


​By Stella Rose

I hope when you smile
Your heart matches your face,
I hope when you’re grown
It’s only dreams you chase,
I hope when you look in the mirror
You see what I see,
Two ambitious souls
Untamed and free,
I hope when life gets heavy
You pick up the pieces and
Carry on,
I hope youse keep each other safe
After I am gone
I hope when you hear certain songs
It will remind you of happy times,
I hope the light inside you
Will forever shine.


By Jennifer Johnston
  

Author bio: Hey I'm Jennifer, age 31 from Derry, I love wandering through nature, it makes me feel alive, going the gym, cooking healthy food, pouring my heart into my words whilst trying to maintain a positive attitude, spending time with my girls who keep me on my toes, I love writing poetry it helps me deal with my struggles, allows me to express my feelings in ways I didn't know I could, engulfs my wildest desires to be expressed that I kept deep down in my soul until it was safe to release.

You can read more of Jennifer's wonderful words on her Instagram @jennifer_johnston_89

No Lady in our Dame

Autumn. 
Barreling in now against a backdrop of a forgettable summer.
Leaves, dance a frenzy
before making a wet slap and whoosh then vanish down the gutter.
Grey-black prismed puddles refract neon and 
The default setting is vandal.
The city commences and turns on itself.
Awake now, her homily aloft.
Gaining her strength. 
Tone shrinking the flock.

With creatured-cold movement her procession begins. 
The veil thin upon her, the journey's end.
Dragging and limping with matted black hair.
Cursing and screaming. Pounding and heaving for air.
No news of salvation. No doomsday call. 
She takes leave of herself , the saviour of all.

The wind, sleet and engines pursue their mighty roar.
Rickety conveyors of bikes, cars and buses startled to a stop. 
And jut. And stop. And jut again.
And go ab-solutely-nowhere.
Time steam-rolls down the clock.
Red and green traffic lights, like starburst. 
Amber blinkering, saintly and fuzzy in the distance.
Licit faces strain against the conditions, 
 and play dodge with the spent rigs strewn around. 


Further on, Small camps shelter tin-foil-havens.
It's a welcome but temporary home.  
Beams of street light seek dank dusty air and give glimpses of those with-in. 
Colourful play-like lighters, spent,
adding hope while wading the junk covered floor. 
A lingering scent of smouldering plastic and stale damp cloth and the  
Steam rises from the squatted shapes. Prepped for the cure.
The rock takes hold and soothes their soul. Then back out to the gutter.


The arousal, palpable now. 
The air is thick. 
Crowded buses outperform one another on Dame St, 
and jostle with taxis at the lights.
The rush. 
Still gathering. 
Sucking up its pace at a million miles per hour. 
Humanity unfolds before us, 
Our citizens are on their knees.



By Shane Cahill
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