Today’s choice
Previous poems
Bill Jones
Three Jackdaws
Three jackdaws walked widdershins
around the birdfeeding station. A fat woodpigeon,
pompous, hieratic,
tried to undo their magic
by walking from four to six. For a moment,
the two birdfeeders, full of seeds and nuts,
were the pillars of the Temple.
I wondered what it spelled for the day ahead
as I watched their spells, this augury-pokery.
Bill Jones is a poet and illustrator who lives in Gloucestershire, UK, with a small dog and an interest in magic. His poems have appeared in anthologies from Yew Tree Press and his cartoons have appeared in Private Eye and Poetry Review.
Peter Branson
Emerge, from way beyond the pale, one day,
clenched feet an amulet about your wrist
Alice Huntley
carved from the tusk of my grandmother
I am learning how to remember
Bel Wallace
My dad is thinking geometrically,
eyes closed; he waves his arms
Sarah Crowe
they gave me the cold
cap to stop my chemo
hair falling out
Daniel Dean
A beastly man swallowing leeks. His throat
Is dirt, and yet his ghost could sit with Raphael
Lesley Burt
a conch found in hot white sand
on the shoreline at Sanur Beach
a Fibonacci whorl
among morning offerings
Annie Acre
i am sun-shot / green-beamed / stem-steep /
hands cupfuls of heartlines / conjuring water
Jennifer Cole
take your wedding ring
or it might get “disappeared”
Eithne Longstaff
On the road to Belfast today, I failed
to recognise my father. I saw a flamingo
by the Tamnnamore turn off, but paid
little regard as it took off…