Today’s choice

Previous poems

Daniel Rye

 

 

 

Fuglafjørður
I

This curved town
exhales fishy breath
gusted in tons
from berthed trawlers
gashing the quay
the north hauled to land
groceries shopped into cars
with studded tyres grinding
their knuckles home
lit by Christmas lights
rigging a netted constellation
from boat to house

II

When did the slowness
of this afternoon
merge with the chugging
boat engine in the harbour?

Metallic hammering and
calls of feeding gulls
chime out spells of work.

An elderly man in
peaked cap throws
a plastic hoop
up the bank towards
the school
where no children
are playing.

The town held still
between lowering cloud
and rippling fjord.

we have
all the time
we need
all the time
we have

 

 

Daniel Rye is a poet and musician living in the Faroe Islands. His writing reflects the experience of living in a country where you are never more than 5 kilometres away from the sea.

Pat Edwards

Watching the ‘Strictly’ Results Show on a Sunday night
 
Knowing what we know about the pain of the world,
who wins and who loses might feel like a betrayal.

Jean Atkin

Wear a coat, you’ll pass through light rain at the wood-edge
under Helmeth. Sing loudly, so the snakes can hear you.

Sue Butler

When I read my poem about stretch marks

you said it was a funny thing
to write about. I felt a flare,
low down, an orange hazed ember
you’d have to blow into life.

Rhian Parker, Madailín Burnhope and mithago on Trans Day of Visibility

Your focused eyes on a box of plantain.
Deep concentration making them filled
more brown than white.
A different mouth asks if they sell iru.

-Rhian Parker

My cockatiel, Pippin, has learned to listen
for that particular resigned sigh of the bus
as it passes the living room window
and shrieks whenever he hears it.

-Madailín Burnhope

you wanna know if it screams like a man or a girl?
i want to rip a throat out
teeth bared
growling
guttural
it builds in the back of my throat
i scream like an animal
sick of losing siblings

-mithago