Today’s choice

Previous poems

David Belcher

 

 

 

How to not exist

Allow yourself to be elbowed aside
become a non-person
an avoider of lingering looks

Ask
how can I best be ignored?
foster a gnawing sorrow
howling complaints to imaginary friends

In portraits
your eyes should be nebulous
stare at your reflection in a mirror
until you no longer recognise your face

Eventually
the people who knew you
lovers and enemies
will find someone else to hate or to love

Once you are entirely invisible
sit in a chair
with your feet trailing on the floor
the tea in your cup gone cold

If you look from a window
to watch the street
and someone posts a letter in a red mail box
don’t enter into the experience
don’t be tempted to participate
to add your heartbeat to the ebb and flow of life
stop there
or you will be writing lists
driven by enticing urges
entertaining fantasies
you will poke and fidget
overcome by frenzied
deranged expectation
an unwarranted confidence

singing to the walls to hear yourself rejoice.

 

 

David Belcher lives in North Wales, his work has appeared in journals and magazines, online and in print, and he writes and reads for enjoyment. David is not a complicated person.

Zoe Davis

I joined a secret society
advertised in the back pages of a magazine.
I forget which, but I found it nestled
in 8pt font and fancy border
between time share apartments in Lanzarote
and the commemorative plates.

Callan Waldron-Hall

long weekend ← or ← perhaps ↑ summer holiday →
from the back of someone’s car boot ↑ the strange →
sweated plastic all pink and blue and folded →

Pat Edwards

Watching the ‘Strictly’ Results Show on a Sunday night
 
Knowing what we know about the pain of the world,
who wins and who loses might feel like a betrayal.

Jean Atkin

Wear a coat, you’ll pass through light rain at the wood-edge
under Helmeth. Sing loudly, so the snakes can hear you.