Today’s choice
Previous poems
Gita Ralleigh, Julian Matthews, Jackie Taylor on Colouring Outside the Lines
Summoning
“Pink is the navy blue of India.”
Diana Vreeland
The hue of brides, appliquéd dark with henna.
Citron’s acid curl, vernal blades between teeth.
Beneath a virginal sky, weren’t we confections?
Pistachio and rosewater, saffron and cardamom,
greyed to drab by conker, navy and wine-bottle.
What we called home was only tarmac, ashes, dim
with tea stains, ink flecked. Candy-stripe days lost
under jalebi light. Slatted blinds slid shut against
Time, always stalking us. Her cape of night, lined
in clouds. When did colour seep from our blood?
Gita Ralleigh is a poet, writer and ex-doctor born to Indian immigrant parents in London. Her books are A Terrible Thing (Bad Betty Press)Siren (Broken Sleep Books) and Empirical (The Braag) She teaches creative writing at Imperial College.
LINES
Colour inside the lines. Line up. Underline. Straight line. Come online. Pickup line. Cross the line. Go offline. Decline. Keep in line. Don’t park on the yellow line. Sign on the dotted line. Meet your bottom line. Bee line. Snort a line. Shots in a line. Line dance. Deadlines. Front line. Firing line. Hook, line and sinker. Toe the line. Tread the fine line. Walk the line. Run lines. Poetic lines. Line breaks. Remember your lines. Fluffed your lines. One-liners. Setup and punchline. Deliver your lines. Fall in line. Crooked lines. Feed them some line. Line their pockets. Hotline. Throw them a line. Ass on the line. Hold the line. Blur the line. Clear the lines. End of the line. There are no lines…
Julian Matthews is a Malaysian poet published in 60 literary journals, anthologies and websites in 17 countries. http://linktr.ee/julianmatthews
paper chromatography
we shared a pipette
as part of the experiment
leaning into electron shudder
shoulder touching shoulder
observing the stutter-steps
of pigment
on white
paper : molecular
array of desire
paths
unstoppable
bleed
Jackie Taylor is a Cornwall-based writer of poetry and short fiction. Her short story collection, Strange Waters, was published by Arachne Press, and she holds an MLitt in Creative Writing from the University of Glasgow.
Corinna Board
Pond life Take this pond, for example. Goldfish blow ellipses… you pause, breathe. The pond counts the beats: in for four, hold for seven. Lily pads float like Pac-men in a plant-based alternative to the game you wasted hours on as a kid. The pond...
John G. Hall
Thrift In the shadow of Drumadoon the pink bobble headed Thrift stitch the bones of basalt scree summer's wreath for the cold stone that once rose angry red hot columns pastry cut pressed into the science of my camera. John G. Hall...
Sue Finch
A PELICAN IS DANCING ON THE PATIO And there is a disco very deep in the woods. The pelican is tapping out its rhythm and no one can quite name the tune even though it is right there on the tip of tongues. And the people that know about the disco...
Neil Fulwood
TOSCANINI In later life, he will profess to dislike it, this symphony from a besieged city, this masterwork of human resilience its score smuggled to the States on microfiche, spy-story tradecraft the order of the day. Still, it is his the...
R.C. Thomas
Waking Memory Whether the documents, separated by type, format and function are easily accessed depends on the amount and the quality of the oil applied to the filing cabinet. There are nights when the metal doesn't glide, nights when the rollers...
Elizabeth Osmond
Action Man When he was a kid, he crucified Action Man He enjoyed that the rubber hands submitted perfectly to the hammer, nails passing easily into the wooden cross. As Action Man hung in the garden he reflected upon how unhelpful the trappings of...
Emma Gawlinski
Freight Train For Elizabeth Cotten (1893 -1987) American blues and folk musician, singer, and songwriter. At a gas station in Malta, Angelo fingerpicks that song as the boys eat ricotta pastizzi and Ruth restrings her banjo and Romey plays at...
Michelle Diaz
The Sorry Letter I’m nine years old & it’s 6pm & I’ve been sent to my room. I open a new pack of felt tips & grab some Victoria Plum paper. It’s time for The Sorry Letter. I want to be in the laughing living room, watching Knight Rider...
Michele Benn
Sephardi Legend When Susona ben Susòn betrayed her father did she beg for her head to be severed from her body and nailed to the door or did she hide in the cloisters of a convent an orphaned Conversa enduring her days in penitent contemplation or...