Today’s choice

Previous poems

Sarah Rowland Jones

 

 

 
Early Morning  

The terns lift as one
from the salt-pools behind the beach
– a thick undulating line
the lazy ripple of a shaken-out duvet.
They dip, rise and swirl
like cream stirred through coffee
and dissolve into the mist.
 

 

Sarah Rowland Jones has been published in Poetry Wales and Snakeskin, and in anthologies and online by Seren and Eyewear, as well as in South Africa where she lived for a while before returning to Wales.

Sarp Sozdinler

As a kid, Nehisi used to sleep in a treehouse. He could curl right into it from his bedroom window. He would have a hard time falling asleep every time his parents got loud or physical.

Roger Allen

      AFTER YOU HAVE GONE Morning moves with tempered sound. A heel turns by the green gate. The alley setts rest in purple curves. Some night seems to have been left here. Pots of sweet herbs are placed to fill the yard with subtle scent. Somewhere a...