Today’s choice
Previous poems
Iris Anne Lewis
A moonless night when lanterns are shuttered
The track leads through thickets, threaded with eyes.
Elusive scraps of dreams, they gleam, flicker out.
Long dead stars pierce the canopy
with pinpricks of white, cold and exact.
I stumble through woods, the path
thick with leafmould, my footsteps muffled.
Something unseen scuttles in the undergrowth.
A harsh bark, owls’ wings brush the air.
Night retreats, dawn flushes the sky. The sun
splashes through trees, braids dark with light.
Leaves cast dancing shade on the path. I walk on,
the woods lit green and singing.
Iris Anne Lewis is widely published. Featured in Black Bough Poetry and Poetry Wales she has won or been placed in many competitions. Her first collection Amber is available from Amazon or contact her on @irisannelewis.bskysocial or X @irisannelewis.
Ella Sadie Guthrie
Heartbreaker We are all just works in progress, muscles aching and eczema breaking skin Our minds playing tricks on us from Our last relationships. I confided this in the pub and you called me a heartbreaker, helping me eat yellow cheese off cold chips....
Steve Xerri
The Year in Thirteen Moons i gardener's forgotten fork a pronged Excalibur locked in iron ground, round pond a mirror to the ice moon ii pollen-yellow catkin moon, a token of death loosening its grip : frost gone, sap on the move iii mass of gelatinous...
Sophia Charalambous
Before I saw India I was a banyan tree – roots multiplying, pampered leaves. I would often sit and think about the shape of things, swastikas, shri yantras, and how many shapes are memorised and how many are inherited. I imagined the thousands of shades...
Maria-Sophia Christodoulou
Matinal Fears I’m going to mess your life up— taping my thumb to my finger. I’m a big foot kind of bitch god, my father is scared to ask me the truth. I cannot wake from meat dreams, orange pulp fighting my maternal instinct. Let’s calm ourselves, wash...
Elaine Baker
Haberdasher After Pascale Petit I found out where my heart is that he’s cut out with his tiny scissors. He stitched it to a t-shirt with her name on. Back in New York they spend the weekend together, wandering down avenues that all look the same. She...
June Wentland
Migraine day Two charged wires, that shouldn’t meet, are touching and – deeply – a tenderness of bright red ulcer pulses. The sky is the colour of unrequited fights and love bites. The magpies are nervy. The weather – saw-toothed and pissed – is...
L Kiew
Glacier I overspill the high corries where the snow accumulates, breaks down, suffers ablation. Over the decades, the millennia, ice slows and fankles due to my weight. My skin extrudes nunataks, shears away to crevasses; I extend glassy gantries over...
James McDermott
TAMAGOTCHI the tamagotchi was a key chain sized egg shaped computer with screen three buttons the tamagotchis were small aliens like me who had put down an egg on Earth to see what life was like the player had to raise the...
Karishma Sangtani
In Memory of Bhau I have just woken up on a stern mattress in the living room again. I sit up, my hands pressing the night out of my body. There is that devoted din of a ceiling fan, blowing clumps of dust between the sofas. And spread across the walls,...