Today’s choice

Previous poems

Kirsty Fox

Winged

 

 

Kirsty Fox is a writer and artist specialising in ecopoetics. She writes lyric essays and poetry, and has had work published by Apricot Press, Arachne Press, and Streetcake Magazine. She has a Masters in Creative Writing and is currently studying for a PhD.

Lalah-Simone Springer

      Apex Black woman, apex Thighs and mind of thunder Grounded, solid Catches me in her stratospheric eyeline in the future sight of higher love. The mountainous everything of her So bright I can barely behold. I hide in the shade of her lashes...

Jamal Hassan

      Martin Luther King Jr's on tour in the UK to repeat the same speech, you've heard but never remembered word for word. And why should you? I have a dream is painted onto enough t-shirts and baseball caps for you to get the gist. School timetables...

Jemilea Wisdom-Baako

      It didn’t make me        a woman         darkened     school skirt pleats the pungent smell of loss            this initiation       a twelve year olds guide to becoming ashamed         it didn’t make me weak   they...

Zelda Cahill-Patten

      Street-preacher She looks at me with that fearsome oil-sheen in her eyes, the weighty conviction of milk-heavy gaze and breasts, telling me (the spittle-flecked words like Words made flesh) of her Father, how he is unseen, felt unstirring in the...

Maeve McKenna

      Dream State Covers tight as clingfilm. Tell them you fell headfirst, steadied yourself, sucked out what was left in your throat, coughed that creamy polyethylene onto the pillow. Eyeballs infused with miniature blue irises plunge into the well....

Abigail Elizabeth Ottley

      Widows Walk Evenings she puts on her second-best hat skewered with a tortoise shell pin, buttons up her heart in a mauve mohair coat sallies forth to pick a bone with the moon. On the red-leaded step she scans the stars imagines them white sparks...

Guy Elston

      You Call This Summer More like a chicken bone tossed to a pigeon. More like a half-portion of peanut butter slicked in the jar we never throw out. I pedal through birds in Tommy Thompson, all strong enough to fly south soon – if I check the water...

Yuanbing Zhang translates Hongri Yuan

      My Heaven is Inside My Body My heaven is inside my body, my heaven is a great many, like stars in the night sky, with silver towers, huge edifices that look like sapphires, golden palaces, gardens of crystal. My body is bigger than the universe,...