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Mark Cooper
Born in Manchester, raised on the Isle of Man. Have lived in Belfast for last 11 years and love the place, the people, the craic. Writing poetry is release, of experiences, ideas and feelings: It is also escapism. Initial writing was precipitated by the birth of my first niece, and as a result a significant proportion of my poetry could be classified as childrens. Most recently, three poems appear in Speech Therapy (Issue 2), including 'Ladybirds Jewels' which earned me a place in the final of the Belfast Poetry Cup 2006 . A poem recounting the fortunes of a vagrant called βFivedogsβ appears in Citizen32, and is my first magazine publication.
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The Dance by Mark Cooper
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Morning cold, misty air of change
A farmer lays seeping carpet
Slurry pit brew
that wrenches the nostrils and catches the throat
Swallows newly dressed
in tails, white cravats, red neck ties
wait in line
for the ball to begin
Experienced wings unfold
Following lead, gaps appear
Tying about each other the dancers glide low
on a cushion of summer memory
For many this is graduation
For some continuation
Now as one they turn south
Again the old farm is deserted
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