An update on the new direction of ‘The Poetry Jar’!

8th July 2013,

Hello to all aspiring writers and poets!

I have recently taken over this blogzine from its creator Bruce Ruston, who has decided to focus on other artistic endeavours at this time.

I have many thoughts and goals on the new direction of The Poetry Jar, the main aspiration being to provide a platform that explores the ability of different forms of creative writing, to access unconventional disciplines that would not traditionally be associated with the creative arts.

At this point in time, I would like to put forth a call for submissions of poetry/short stories/dialogues that marry creative frameworks with unconventional subject matter. There is no limit on creativity, imagination and scope.

There is no payment made for published material. All copyright rests with the writer. Please feel free to publish work elsewhere simultaneously.


Stacey McPhail


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Catacombs – Stacey McPhail



My final resting place, lugubrious lighting.

My bones turned to meal, used to fighting.

Absent is the lustrous effulgence of life.

Present are the markers of imperial strife.


The tomb of my Father’s, built by the Sons.

Inscribed of filial love and marked noble ones.

I am taught, I am trained in this family stead,

To rest here with honour with the Kingly dead.


Patrician and Knightly are the mode of my lectures,

But I am shamed to admit it is mostly conjectures.

What of the minutiae of the life before death?

Please don’t rule me till my last lusty breath!

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New year’s poem – Susie Sweetland

New year’s poem


Late at night on a roof

surrounded by smoke

and effigies burning

in every direction

I see the furniture

shop across the street

is full of people



I love you like

the sun and moon

stars and sky,

but closer,

like an oft read book

whose well worn cover

fits perfectly into my hands,

both comforting

and exciting,

new and old,

unknown and familiar.


Rain returns like

an old friend


and greedily I

gather you both

back to me.

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daylight – Susie Sweetland


I come into

the presence

of wild things,

quiet things.

The stillness

of water and cold

at night with only

a coyote singing

to remind me

of movement

and the rest

of the waking



Dreams are


in the daylight.


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Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini – Anthony Ward


Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini


Apparelled in ethereal garb,

He takes to the stage,

Towering above the audience,

A mere figure of himself,

Embodying a caricature.

His diabolical appearance

Hypnotising them with virtuosity,

Contorting compositions with resounding impossibilities,

Astounding animosity of admiration,

Creating pandemonium through mystique of phantom scores,

Deified in league with the devil,

Producing heavenly sounds

That has the audience fainting,

Vanishing with music,

Wondering if they’d imagined it.


This poem is about Paganini who was the original rock star of the time. But rather than having the audience rocking, he had them hypnotised, not only by his music but by his appearance. Tall and forebodingly dressed in black, he would play the violin like the devil himself, which left the audience unable to believe what they saw


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