Today’s choice
Previous poems
Tristan Moss
Faith
… without any irritable reaching
after fact and reason. John Keats
I try
not to think
about my daughter’s
condition
when I
hug her
as all
I have to do
is think about
how I walk
down the stairs
to lose my feet.
Tristan Moss has recently had poems published in Litter Magazine, Tears in the Fence and Snakeskin. In 2023, he published a pamphlet called Ligaments, with The Red Ceilings Press. @tristan-moss.bsky.social
Kate Noakes
That’s best to try In the magic mirror of competition, you’ll never win, best not to try. You have that loose neck, goosey-goosey, and those crow’s feet around your eyes. With their ebony-haired youth and rosy-lipped beauty, step-daughters are the...
Marcelle Olivier
halfmens namaqualand the halfmens feeds off rare fog that travels inland from the coast, and struggles to seed. she is my sentry to the afterlife: the hills here look dead but they burn with grievances and blooms; they paint their poisons daily....
Jon Alex Miller
Aum Desire shudders like a yawn to my surface, a deep song rising for air – a sound at the centre of myself. Sometimes I can feel it in my fingertips. Other times a colony of nights confounds me and my heart stammers. Without sound my body is just...
Dami Ajayi & Emma Neale
THE PARABLE OF THE IMMIGRANT The mirror lies. You cannot touch the reflection you see. You smash the mirror, yet the reflection votes remain on your mind. In the parable of the immigrant, the hummingbird wanders into a car park & finds the...
Martin Rieser
How to Walk to the Sea Follow the footpath past the farm house dodging mud and deeper ruts Pass through the bent and rusted gate the ford choked by balsam and reeds At the first stile look up to the horizon vast grey sea, the buzzard. Ignore the...
Chen-ou Liu
tongues of fire ... the things I take the things it takes * drawn-out yawn . . . morning sunlight tangled in my old dog's tail * beach sunset paints her face wine-red before love after love * around a bend in the wooded trail giant cliff Buddha * ocean breeze a...
Julie Stevens
Control Imagine a box, body-sized and you’re inside. You can stand. Cramped. Just. That’s where I lived and had to lug the thing around with me everywhere I went. Imagine having a voice torn out as the words exit. Ideas choke, when there’s too...
Mims Sully
My Mother Welcomes me to the Care Home Come and live, we'll find you a house, you'll have an old time and be loved. You can just sit there, don't lick a finger, there's ups and there's dugs but we've got to go nowhere. They take us in so we can...
Nuala Watt
Disabled Person’s Travel Card Council, council, let me on the bus That you let me on last week. Oh no Ms Watt, you can’t go on the bus For we don’t know where you live. So off I went to get proof of address And I thought I’d sorted out the mess...