Today’s choice
Previous poems
Tim Dwyer
Shedding
Annamakerrig
It begins high up
the chestnut tree
with leaves on the twigs
on the tips of branches
where sap has slowed.
Turning amber
carried by the breeze
they touch the earth,
rest on the grass
where autumn begins
Tim Dwyer’s Accepting The Call has won the Straid Collection Award and is nominated for the Forward Best First Collection. He is a previous contributor to IS&T. He lives in Bangor, Northern Ireland.
Sarah L Dixon
The Tuesday the world changed for aardvarks I never liked rain. And today it raged. Flooded into the sand that is our bed. It drenched the warm corners where I cuddle with Bert away from daylight. The ants ran from it and I was unable to resist...
Jennie E. Owen
The Rose Queen Even now, looking at the photos I cannot see myself there, on the edges heels on the curb, with my sister, watching the queens on walking day take a lead behind the mounted police. The brassed bands, the drums the beat and blow of...
Katy Evans-Bush
From Lines by Kenneth Patchen #48 ‘Yet there will be peace in certain parts of the city; sonnets dripping like moss from the walls; women holding their gifts out, arms, thighs, their quick song…’ — Kenneth Patchen, ‘The Hunted City’ This body of...
Lucy Heuschen
Discussing Maternity Leave He sits behind his desk, hands folded across his belly, frowning over his expensive specs. His eyes, his shiny crown, his wedding ring. Oh My God, I think. Is he visualising it? Me, shagging? Does he think I’ve neglected...
Abbi Parcell
FAGGOT pt2 I am more than my shoes, Even the black boots I wear Day in day out to work rubbed smooth on the soles. I am more than the cheap-end shirts That hide my tits and that you Frown at, openly, at the shop, the park, On the bus after a long...
Adam Horovitz
Into the Orkney Sky That spring, I learned how to fly. Willed my small arms hollow, thrust them into a long coat and made wings as the wind rose from plaintive selkie cry to fury’s register. I spread myself gull-like into the sea’s salt-feathered...
Kate Noakes
Grandmother during the war Turn to the afternoon sun, boys, turn to the cobalt sky, but shield your faces from the blast and smoke. Your grandmother is planting sunflowers early this year; three in each pot for luck. The glass in her greenhouse is...
Andrew McDonnell
Andrew McDonnell writes poetry and short fiction. His debut collection The Somnambulist Cookbook (Salt) was published in 2019. He lives in Norwich but works in Peterborough to ensure a long commute in which he can write things that are not emails. ...
Caspar Wort
Point Nemo And once more you descend like captain Nemo to the depths of the planet’s tears. Torch in hand, you search the silty sea floor for any signs of life in the bleach-white corals. You search to the solo choir of a sperm whale echoing...