Today’s choice
Previous poems
Anne Symons
Magic Pennies
My dad was a magician.
He could make a penny disappear
with a twist of his wrist
just vanish in thin air
to pluck it later
from your ear or nose.
People laughed when dad did that.
He’d put a matchstick
in the centre of a clean white hanky,
his Sunday best
fold the hanky, break the match
get everyone to feel it
before he mended it again.
They all said Oo! When dad did that.
But the best was getting chocolate
from the level crossing
behind the house on Gwinear Road.
Dad put ha’pennies on the tracks
for trains to squash as big as pennies
for the sweetie slot machine.
He was clever like that, my dad.
Anne Symons comes from Cornwall and began writing poetry in retirement. She completed an MA in Writing Poetry at Newcastle University and the Poetry School in London. Her debut pamphlet Shifting Sands, was published by Littoral Press in 2024
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It doesn’t trust paper. It writes itself
in my head where no one can reach it,
laugh, tear it to shreds, or
call it a waste of space, a disgrace.
Afolabi Ezra
It was a quiet day—
no bad news,
no sudden loss,
no reason to hold my breath.
Karina Jutzi
I think today of the boy in choir class
who closed his eyes when we sang
about Jesus. Who swayed, as if the Lord
Isabelle Thompson
We saw a kingfisher threading the bright needle
of his body along the river. We saw a shag, stamping
her prehistoric shadow on the sky. We saw a hobby,
Roger Robinson
We walk from cane fields,
cotton in our nightshirts, sweet
Amirah Al Wassif
My double sits before me now. I stare deep into her, as I do every day after midnight. When I raise my hands, she raises hers.
Sophie Lankarani
Even though I only once traced your streets with my own feet,
you wandered into my dreams anyway
sliding in through my grandmother’s stories,
Mark A. Hill
She wills his brush in colour
and chalking, fierce hued flaws,
which fall flat on the canvas