Today’s choice
Previous poems
Ryan O’Neill
at the drop-and-go
we hug and i act cool
as the american fridge ice
shattering on kitchen tiles
lift my case from the boot
practice my cold show face
drain emotion like wine from
the christmas market we bought crepes at
dropped a claw over a stuffed Pikachu
where you promised this would be our year
trace the rim of my glass at the airport bar
small wet moons form on the table
spidery foam dries on lip
departure board blinks i drop my empty
wave back at no-one like it’s winter jacket time
and cosy corner pubs helping me pack real slow
Ryan O’Neill is an Irish poet and writer from Cork, Ireland and based in Cardiff, Wales. His work has featured in Ink, Sweat & Tears and These Pages Sing and you can find him on both Instagram (roneill9414) and X (@Roneill1994).
JLM Morton
In a dull sky
the guttering flame
of a white heron
Tonnie Richmond
We could tell there was something
we weren’t allowed to know. Something
kept hidden from us children
Morag Smith
When the waters broke we were
out there, borderless, with just
a view of bloodshot sky from
the labour suite
Gordon Scapens
Stripping wallpaper
leaves naked the scrawls
of yesteryear’s children,
small forecasts of flights
that are inevitable.
Chrissy Banks and Antony Owen (from the IS&T archives) for Holocaust Memorial Day
Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep Goodnight moon, goodnight stars, goodnight cherry, pear, apple tree. Goodnight pond, stop wriggling, newts, stop zipping the water, water-boatmen. Goodnight, glossy horses on the hill, rabbits in the field, white...
Clare Bryden
how do I begin?
Yvonne Baker
an etherial whiteness
that covers and disguises
as a strip of white frosted glass
Hilary Thompson
Ambling up North Street
on a Saturday afternoon
at the end of a long Winter,
I am stopped by two women
Irene Cunningham
Lavender seeps. I expect my limbs to leaden, lead the body down through sheet, mattress-cover, into the machinery of sleep where other lives exist.