by Fathima Zahra | Jan 9, 2025 | Filmpoems
Splice Asemic Triptych Asemic (adjective): using lines and symbols that look like writing, but do not have any meaning. Katie Beswick is a writer from south east London. Recent poems appear in Rattle, Dust Poetry Magazine, The Waxed Lemon and The Haibun Journal. Her...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 9, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
A Farmer’s Son Watches Galaxies Turn, Groes Bach Spring 1833 – mists folding their sheets in the fields. Isaac Roberts feels the turned earth, his father’s farm an island in the hurtling Milky Way – splashes of cream across the churning ocean...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 8, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
Baldwin St, mid-November Wet tarmac blinks red and gold, names shine outside the Gaumont. Stop dreaming, you’ll get lost. I trot to keep up, past the chip shop, past a big man bellowing Mind out! as he shifts a stack of crates, past Carwardine’s...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 7, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
Driving lesson Before the first turn of the key, before adjusting the mirror, before releasing the handbrake even, Dad said: there are two things you need to know. The first, he said, is double-declutching. It’s got me out of many a scrape. It...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 6, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
If you didn’t know what a storm is This thing will enter your perception with a swagger. Kick open doors, slam wood to wall, shake rooms, with the impatient knock of nature. Alive, but not exactly, as it fills the frame, flicker-lit by lightning....
