Today’s choice
Previous poems
Sue Moules
SURREAL SHEEP
I sell the postcard
of multi-coloured sheep
over and over again.
“Done on a computer I suppose”
says a lady as she hands over forty pence.
“Yes, I expect so” I say.
I’ve only seen white,
black and brown sheep,
earth coloured in the fields.
Not hand-coloured
like my parents’ wedding photo
so they were always young.
I sell the postcard
of multi-coloured sheep
over and over again:
Weather good
honey ice-cream lush,
wish you were here.
Sue Moules‘ most recent collection is The Moth Box.(Parthian).
Salvatore Difalco
No green swell this evening
will detach me from my hat.
Annah Atane
That night,
the stars had slept. The wind
silent as something dying.
Jake Roberts
hamlet asked it to the dark night sea
where do waters end and i begin
Miguel Cullen
The pelican is so dovey, with her funny crème anglaise feathers with pink and her split-ended crest and mouth.
T N Kennedy
inside the apiary it is always spring
human beings and honey bees cohabiting
Kate Vanhinsbergh
We Should Probably Get Up Now
but, outside, the world has paused:
the wind has put down its loneliness
Bel Wallace
Interior My dear, I washed you out of my sheets. And now I sleep softly in them. My dreams are sweet and free. I opened the windows to air out your smoke. I liked it for a while, how it held the past in its wispy fingers. I emptied your cigarette...
On the Twelfth Day of Christmas we bring you Rachel Burns, Lauren Middleton, Hedy Hume
I start the day early with a cup of tea.
A new diary asks I make an affirmation,
while cleaning my teeth.
I have nothing to offer –
On the Eleventh Day of Christmas we bring you Mary Mulholland, Edward Heathman, Edward Alport
No Nordmann firs in Bethlehem.
No holly or ivy. But pomegranate,
almond, fig and olive trees to anoint
with signs of blessing and peace.
And houses don’t smell of Balsam