EWAN
Any fears that we may have had that a return to his studies might
slow Ewan  down have completely disappeared. I was particularly impressed by his poem Dancing which is already part of the Nexus exhibition collection. Here it is again for us.

   The dance of fools, along with the rest
   Multi lingual and multi faceted displays
   Of many distracted views
   Canyons of mis-views
   Bridging many gulfs
   Because we all have canyons to bridge
   Before the one true to you is found

   And when found, the party begins
   Of doubts and misgivings
   Inhaled and imbibed

   I think a party is better
   With Beer bottles rolling
   Full blouses and flowing skirts
   Music playing and empty fast food containers
   Empty like your heart
   Once full but now empty
   Making do, with empty promises and a full blouse.

Dropping - a poem which drives home the desolation of life in study
halls is another fine piece with its poignant observation

  There was a time
  When this was unthinkable
  Weak kneed and lazy
  Now my 65 yr old uncle
  Carries coffee to my table
  And I contemplate dropping the lot
  I end up dropping two
  Even that will be hard.

It must be said that this month, there hasn't been one poem from Ewan
which didn't have something that lingered in the mind. As I sort through
the March collection I find myself saying - now this bit is good, this
is worth talking about - that's nifty, the other is well expressed. This
makes review time highly enjoyable.. it also has it's drawbacks. We
would be publishing a three volume novel if I didn't leave some things
out.

Among the very best this month were  and it ran and ran which is one 
of the 'top three'.
       And the damn thing is still running - past the bunny
       Out into the night - Escaping the crutch of the box
       Past screaming owners - arm flapping trainers
       And ticket waving punters
       A tongue lolling run for the money
       Leaping high with an energy it never showed before
       Where is the finish line for this fine dog
       Far away from here, Far away from captivity
       And full food buckets and stupid crimson colours
       Ah, what a dog to run like this
       To escape the clutches of training schedules
       Petty little squabbles over scraps
       And win/lose days.

Also worth a mention: of many -, Kaboom, Loving and liking, "Where have all the young men gone? Separate a remarkable insight into the mind of another person, and another place.

   We can now cleanse our country
   Of the seeds that we don't want

continues the 'seed' imagery is part of what is becoming a fascinating
group of poems about the troubles in Eastern Europe. I'll look at them
in more detail in the next review.

HEATHER
has had trouble with her Scribble feed. It was during this time
of dearth that she wrote Tree, which I'll let speak for itself. 

               A moonlight night, a swaying tree
               A sleepless night, just tree and me
               I watch the pattern cross my bed
               Lacy pattern by moonglow spread.
               So much pleasure from that tall tree
               Who danced in moonlight just for me.
               On still black nights it stood so tall
               Like trusted guard on city wall.

               Then one day, the chain saw scream
               I looked to where my tree had been
               When I can't sleep, I miss my tree
               My leafy night time company.