Today’s choice
Previous poems
Charles G. Lauder
Craftsmanship
beneath night’s skin he unearths raw stones
serrated encrusted enigmatic cold
tumbling them in two-twenty grit wears away the dull
four hundred six hundred highlights the delicate
garnet’s exposed seam agate’s brittle dendrites
whilst softest serpentine disintegrates to dust
in quiet solitude he worries
facets of captured moonlight won’t be enough
in the age of electric light blue light
boutiques and diners that never shut
the glow of irrelevance radiates
Charles G. Lauder, Jr, is an American poet who lives in the UK. He’s the author of the collection The Aesthetics of Breath (V.Press, 2019) and three pamphlets, the most recent being Year of the Rat (Blueprint Poetry Press, 2025).
Annie Powell Stone
dis)connecting do not disturb is a phone setting and a feeling as I set out the evening breeze biting my cheek is an invitation I walk until I remember how to find shapes in clouds until I can smell the sweat on my upper lip until I can really...
Camille McCawley
Maungawhau Fed up with sitting dormant I shove my legs into compression tights double knot laces and leave the house for the first time in weeks. At the base of Mount Eden I muster the strength to move through its shadow. Pounding against the hard ground...
Elaine Westnott-O’Brien
Present Good love is not always easy. It is driving rain and wind A small vessel in stormy seas Drowning Good love is not always hard. It is melting chocolate in the sun A slow, languorous heat Rising Good love is not always certain. It is a...
Sven Stears
vii) spray paint (Canto from Larger work – PHYLACTERY) accidentally italian again nozzle flecked in tricolore borrowed back from the streets of bristol and new york grubbier somehow embossed with...
Jade Prince
A Mother's Love: a contrapuntal Jade Prince is a 21 year old, recent BA English Literature with Creative Writing graduate. Over the last two years, she has fallen in love with constraint and experimental poetry. In particular, she enjoys pairing strange forms with...
Emily Rose Galvin
12.10 At precisely ten minutes past 12am, a poem was written. The location being less precise, we can say that somewhere on this, our dear planet, one poem was birthed. Pushed through crimson, through a prism of metaphor, through cranial channels...
Eve Atkinson
Timing I’m growing as slowly as Pangea broke apart invisibly, but Colossally I won’t be recognisable, save for the jagged edges of 2 lives...
Jenny Lester
Topple The Statue On the statue of Henry Dundas on the column in St Andrews Square, Edinburgh It will fall Left Onto George Street It will crush 3 cars There will be no fatalities The column will lie for 300 years The buses will be redirected...
Sue Burge
Moongirl menstruates moongirl, plump and gibbous as a bee shiny pollen bleeding silver down her starwhite moongirl, shimmering gymnast each luminous clot a tumbling planet moongirl, astride basks in the glory of her deep silver moongirl, whispers...