Today’s choice
Previous poems
Katherine Duffy
Wake
(Leaving Amorgos, Greece)
The ferry pushes the sea,
forces a long, white reply
that speaks of where we’ve been –
a hulk of rock, a prison
in the time of the Colonels,
now a place of painted chairs,
fairy lights. I lean over,
try to read the disarranged water,
the sea in dark mode.
I count the times we’ve
come and gone. More
behind us now than before.
We sail on, past other islands
brothers gently sleeping.
The white scroll
reaches back,
undoes itself.
Katherine Duffy lives in Dublin. Her poems have appeared in many publications, including Poetry Ireland Review, Crannóg, The Interpreter’s House, etc. She has published collections with The Dedalus Press (Ireland) and in 2018 a pamphlet with Templar Poetry.
Gemma Blakeley
My Dad Complains That The Hedges Are Overgrown
and the word bemuses me, implying as it does
the concept of excess in what can only be good.
Nick Cooke
Molluscous receivers, would that you could
turn your talents inwards, and pick up
all that goes on in the cerebral swamp . . .
Luke Moran
There’s a
flash of colour
from the hedge.
Cáit O’Neill McCullagh
And when you step into the clearing
there will be dancing. The unsteady moon, shaken
to ribbon; shimmering through regalia of clouds.
Adam Cairns
A buzzard mews, turns in the wind,
a faraway engine grumbles.
Siân Bentham
She doesn’t know what she is doing.
She chops and boils, snacks and sneezes, sits.
Classical radio plays, imbuing
the scene with comic dignity and wit.
J.P. Lancaster
Ivy thrives
despite dependency.
It hangs on, has its other day.
Amy Dugmore
How much water did you have to drink this morning?
Did you sip your coffee without worrying
about its diuretic properties? Was it sunny
where you were?
Hannah Linden
I was cutlery left out in the rain, rusty
by morning, a side-slipping fiddlestick
desperate for music, starved for company.