Today’s choice

Previous poems

Manon Ceridwen James

 

 

 

A Parishioner Complains at a Parish Church Council When We Move the Time of Evensong 

You have changed the Bible you have changed the words in the service you have brought in girls to serve at the altar and women can now be sidesmen and any minute now you will let that priestess next door with her earrings and clacky heels come and take the service when you’re on holiday and anyone can now read the lessons but I liked it better when it was just me and the headmaster and we now pray for all people instead of all men and you have changed the creed to say that it was for us and our salvation that Jesus came and not for us men and you have changed the words of Onward Christian Soldiers where would you be without our soldiers we would be speaking in German and you want to charge a pound for coffee a pound this isn’t Starbucks we’ve always had coffee in the coffee morning for 50p and it was nicer it was made with milk not water and now you are moving the time of evensong from six to six thirty this really really really takes the biscuit.

 

 

Manon Ceridwen James iis based in Wales and is an Anglican priest, feminist theologian and adult educator. Her poetry has appeared in several magazines and her book, Women, Identity and Religion in Wales, based on her PhD research, was published in 2018.

Joseph Rodgers

      Snowlight A window glowing with snowlight and we’re running. Take care not to make me your caretaker. I’m just that tube you suddenly share a tunnel with before we charge into our own darknesses or are whisked into them. Stop the whistle, the...

Jim Murdoch

      Weeds   Needs must and so they do. Without hesitation or regret. Maslow at least got that right. Love is not a need per se. The need for love (real or imagined) is the need. Like hunger or thirst. Flowers are beautiful. Most flowers. Weeds...

Elisabeth Sennitt Clough

      paradise farm don’t piss on my leg and tell me it’s raining the for sale by auction sign says paradise farm but i know this is the yard of the house i grew up in i’m an adult tourist in my fen-poor childhood where the past crunches beneath me like...

Freyja Jones

      Every time the doctor sighs looks me in the face, a faint smile playing around his lips eyes sketching scars into my cheeks as if I am    nothing more than a shrunken pea another idiotic woman  a googler a giver-upper a hypochondriac who loves the...

Erica Hesketh

      Placenta in the beginning spiral arteries unwound a river thundered to the site where the capsule was buried, flesh into flesh, bathing the villi in blood: our first exchange within days a structure sprang up along the outermost wall, a trading...

Hannah Welfare

      Firstborn My hands Are bird wings Against the soft percussion Of his heartbeat A caesarean scar Cradles my pelvis Beneath my sexless breasts Each new day Paints his vision His hand curls towards A glove A book made of rags A spoon carved from bone...