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.
Revisiting Word & Image from Helen Pletts and Romit Berger on Mother’s Day
my mother is with the stars my mother is with the stars the missing buckle on Orion’s belt holding my favourite constellation in check – the Universe will be organised against its will – my Earth in chaos, still Helen Pletts (www.helenpletts.com)...
Morag Smith
Mrs McNab All of a sudden, would Mrs McNab see that the house was ready, one of the young ladies wrote…Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse. She comes as summoned, care taker with a leer, a lurch, a grinding of boots on shingle, tears cobweb veils of...
Donald Zirilli
The Night A gymnasium with crepe paper and leather soles, an iron box with only singles, rain without the drop, a clever dance where the floor taps our shoes. I cling to your scapula, your hand, like clothespins, like darkness, following the...
Mark Totterdell
Stars Emerging from the tent at 3am, you see this field of fools, that hedge, the sea, all subtly lit by an array of stars in numbers that your mind cannot compute. They’re barnacles fixed on a dark flat rock, and that faint streak of quartz marks...
Steph Ellen Feeney
New same Year January 2021 Every day, I am a mother, and I am asked to explain things I don’t really understand – like contrails or the...
Rebecca Faulkner
Half Brother (It rained, remember?) We climbed to the roof, took turns dying our bodies glistened & shook, mist from our tongues I step into your game screaming I get five lives! (but you always win) Hold your breath, count to ten cut your...
Helen Finney on International Women’s Day
The Gift A walk in the park. I see a girl sitting cross-legged on the grass, in front of her a box tied neatly with red ribbon, she stares at it, her chin resting in her palms. She doesn’t move. I watch others watching till a boy approaches, he...
Bern Butler
First Snow When snow fell at night, it was her future decided in hushed tones outside the room where she slept, so in the morning when she rose her world had been swapped, swivelled like a set in a play, permitting her (as she stepped out) to...
Live zoom readings from Malika Booker, Jill Abram and Fahad Al-Amoudi
Please join us on zoom for live readings from Malika Booker, Jill Abram and Fahad Al-Amoudi on Sunday 7th March at 4pm GMT This is part of our monthly ‘Live from the Butchery’ series, hosted by Helen Ivory and Martin Figura from their home (an old CoOp...