Today’s choice
Previous poems
Marius Grose
Presence of Trees
Until the dead, sucked from leaf mould graves
are rising in forest sap, to make connections
inside strange green brains
nothing will be crossed in, nothing will be crossed out
until the dead poke holes in the sky with their bones
let in the rain to wash our traces, face mask litter
black bladder-wrack crushed into tarmac
messages transmitted will not be received
when the dead reach forest canopies, then
sealed in blue unaddressed envelopes
they’ll post themselves back to the world
until
Marius Grose worked in broadcast television as a video editor. He has had poems published by Dream Catcher, Allegro Poetry, The Ekphrastic Review, Dreich and The Storms. In 2023 Marius was shortlisted for The White Review’s annual poetry prize.
Stephen Claughton
Wu Zixu (after Hokusai) The warrior, Wu Zixu, tries his hand at writing poetry. Perhaps he thinks it won’t be exacting enough. Cocking his head to one side, he dips his pen in the ink, while at the same time holding a brass pot above his head....
Meg Arnot
* her black eye . . . red scarf muffles the sting of the north wind * muddy gaiters – Coniston Water in my wardrobe * lamb in the talons of a white-tailed eagle time of the tide Meg Arnot’s haiku/senryu and tanka have been published...
Pat Edwards
Various kinds of pin and their uses This pin is for piercing the tube before we medicate the cat in the fur on her neck. She hates us for doing this, senses we are coming for her with our toxins. This one is a safety pin. I open it, slide five or...
Marty McKenna
i excuse myself from you tonight. there is low cloud on the fields as the sway carries these hands between this and the next stop. i’ve fallen for an other, make eye contact; deliver it through sight. i recognise my place by the trees; wonder...
Lisa Perkins
Oktoberfest Gretel nurses a knot at a table for two in a dive bar in Berlin. Bloated shadows crawl above the industry of night. He’s late. Nerves ripple crumbs, popcorn for the crows. Habit makes a ghostly work of worry, she orders something...
Corinna Keefe
Good God Corner, Harlech It’s all Good God Corners around here all hairpin bends and sharp breaths in perpendiculars and parallels that pull you out to sea a riptide of light reaching down from the hills toppling the little train into the water. I...
Jubilee Suite: Sanah Ahsan
fresher At the freshers week party bodies pack sweaty into free-floating balloons. A chorus of down it from thirst you almost know. You unwillingly gulp the cold. Mum worked Saturdays to afford you here. Puke crawls up the back of your throat. Swallow...
Jubilee Suite: Gboyega Odubanjo
Obit. (After César Vallejo) i will die in london in the neighbourhood i grew up in outside the town hall on the high street. i will have been stabbed and my killer will look just like me so no-one will look for him. my body will remain dead in daylight...
Jubilee Suite: Jayda David
The Queen is a Bloodclart the queen is a Bloodclart dissect the monarchy, pull it apart, reveal the truth that they wish they could conceal; raping, pillaging, stealing, imperialism, colonialism, racism. they protect those with the same face as...