Saturday, 24 October 2026

Tom Skerritt – d. October 21st 2026

The camera tracks in close-up
to a cast of faces; all the same
bones, hewn from granite yet
softening at a woman’s smile,
skin like prairie scrub, eyes blue
as the bayou or the empty sky.

Douglas Dunn – d. October 16th 2026

I must revisit your library of times,
to browse, to study, to be renewed.
The books within call out, brimming
with ideas, yet easy as an old suit.
The doors are heavy, but always open;
my friend, say you’ll come with me.

Eva Marie Saint – d. October 6th 2026

The house lights go up; just me
as the reel ends…and a woman
on her own, three rows back,
svelte and luminous, hair like
threads of platinum. She lights
a cigarette, says great movie,
and time stands still, and so do I.

George Fenton - d. October 5th 2026

Wait, wait, I know this one; Bergerac.
Gandhi. Groundhog Day. I, Daniel Blake.
Composed, scored, played, proof
that we hear with square-eyes, that
we remember the lives we’ve seen
when we can whistle their theme.

Jeffrey Archer – d. October 5th 2026

The church clock stands
at ten to three; words are
priceless in the mouths
of chiselers and shysters.
The benches groan with
fabulists, and the book
writes the man. Nothing
of this, of course, is true.

Lena Martell – d. October 5th 2026

Yesterday’s gone; the ballrooms fall
to the wrecking balls of talent show
and karaoke. A woman takes the mic
and rakes among the ruins of a heart,
pokes at the embers of a gospel tune,
does every day what she has to do.

Esther Rantzen – d. September 30th 2026

Turn down the volume on the froth;
the talking dogs, phallic vegetables,
odd odes and high street vox pops.
Do you hear it? A child, repeating
to themselves a telephone number
given out by a woman on TV with
wonky teeth, promising to answer.

Peter May – d. September 25th 2026

The isles are full of bodies,
weighted down in dark lochans
or buried under lush machair.
The heart is a blackhouse, and
there is blood to be written of.

Stephanie Cole – d. September 18th 2026

I speak as I find, and when I speak,
I find the voice of the woman inside;
matron and matriarch, hard-faced
yet tender-eyed, perfecting a look
that could sharpen a bread knife.

Bonnie Greer – d. September 15th 2026

How to live without portfolio:
ask more questions, provide
fewer answers; disagree
agreeably; offer your truth
without assuming it to be
universal; counter hate with
reason; take it easy, but take it.

Craig Douglas – d. September 4th 2026

Curtain up on another cabaret,
last chance for your counterfeit
nostalgia - hey, remember this?
This is the sound of long-soured
milk, memories of me at sixteen,
a time I was too young to know.

Richard O’Sullivan – d. September 4th 2026

It used to be that you could get by
on butter-wouldn’t-melt, playing it
light in heavy times, living over the
brush and under the thumb, with
hilarious consequences. That nest
is empty now; the birds have flown.

Gloria Steinem – d. September 2nd 2026

Revolution first stirs in the head,
then the hearth, boardroom, bed,
even the womb. The just fight
rallies just fighters to the call, 
making activists out of us all,
not for a cause, but for a right.

Tim Curry – d. August 25th 2026

A man falls to Earth from space,
not sure if he’s a boy or a girl.
He/She licks his/her lips, looks
straight (but not very) into the
camera, straight into us, saying
why don’t you stay for the night?


Dolly Parton – d. August 25th 2026

Across the Smoky Mountains
I heard a voice like torn satin,
singing of good love gone bad,
how she could never love again.
I heard the heart of a country girl
break for the hundredth time,
and when she cried, she cried
rhinestones.

Billy Boston – d. August 24th 2026

A dark warrior bursts through floodlit dusk, 
like a wardrobe filled with lightning, stepping
away from hands that would dig his grave.
His path to the posts is a blur of light and
power, smiling as he reels the try-line in. 

Frank Beard – d. August 17th 2026

They came out of the cantinas
and honky-tonks to see them,
that little ol’ band from Texas.
An old boy with bourbon breath
said man, that drummer, shuffle
as tight as a cheerleader’s tush,
backbeat like nails in my coffin.

Gary Dwyer – d. August 10th 2026

Every so often the muses of a city
align; sound, attitude and rhythm,
all waiting for someone to pick up
the sticks, adjust the drum stool,
set the tempo for a song called
Everything is Possible, Here, now.

Cheryl Hall – d. August 9th 2026

This is a Dear John letter from
the eternal girlfriend, eyes bright
as a mirror ball, a laugh in every
smile. She will love, but she will
never marry. At least, not you.

Phyllida Law – d. July 27th 2026

Stage directions for life:
Enter as if everyone is waiting for you;
Treat each line of dialogue as a gift;
When a good actor cries, so does
the audience; Exit, but disgracefully.