Today’s choice

Previous poems

Antonela Pallini-Zemin



Mix & Match

but what if we mixed
the smoke of my incense sticks
& the smoke of your rolled-up happiness
in a room only suitable for two?

what if we mixed & matched
your hundred fingers
with my four fingerprints?

what if we let my kundalini
meet your ever-hissing snake?

what if we allowed
my stars-wisdom
match your rationale?

what if we introduced my kindness
to your ancient shield?

what if we mixed my akashic records
with the records of your past lovers?
you should be able to forget…

but what if we mixed
the smoke of my incense sticks
& the smoke of your rolled-up happiness
in a room only suitable for two?


Antonela Pallini-Zemin is an English Language and English Literature Teacher with an MA in Creative Writing Poetry by UEA. Her poems have been published in different newspapers, literary magazines and journals across the UK, the US, Mexico, Argentina, and Spain.
Twitter: @PalliniZemin

Cleo Madeleine

    do not eat you dry out my tongue, dry off, dry off, wither in my mouth like the ripe white leg of a lamb breach-born, caught dangling between guts and dew, fingers of mist still laid in the valley biscuits in a long cardboard tube sticky with crumbs, the...

Katherine Collins

    The unsheltered places The unsheltered in their places might remark if asked, that a pavement at close quarters is like the surface of the moon just before the sun disturbs itself to snuff out, one by one each florescent streetlight’s fizz that crowds...

Charlotte Knight

    HELL IS REAL Travelling southbound on Interstate 71, motorists pass a sign which reads HELL IS REAL. It stands in a plowed field and serves as a reminder to all God-fearing farmhands that they must indeed fear God. I am not so easily influenced, I could...

Hilary Hares

      The Film-maker and the Poet after ‘A Matter of Life and Death’ (1946) The film-maker begins at the rim of space where he hurls constellations through Shakespeare and war; from a place where he condemns a man to unrequited death. His screen fills...

Charlie Baylis

    daphne & moonlight daphne on the bonnet of the car her father stole off with your head daphne in a black lake moonlight plays inside me in the wrong register in the rearview my legs below her legs above the moon is white i slice peaches with magic...

Kevin Higgins

      Towards A Dennis O’Driscoll Re-write of A Cesare Pavese Poem   Stupid takes after you, its smirk the one you wear while confidently doing whatever it is you do worst. You wouldn’t recognise stupid if it superglued your eyes open, threw a bucket of...

Natascha Graham

      Summer in the 1990s Sunset. Mid-July with a cloudless blue sky electric pink and flared with gold The window frame of the caravan digs into my elbows I lean out further My best friend squashed against me Side by side Watching our dads sitting in...

Paul McDonald

  Mother and Daughter  (after the 2013 photograph by Gregory Crewdson) When your mother walks barefoot to your house, you welcome her, the February morning, pine-scented freeze that follows like a phantom through the door. A single set of tracks print snow into...