Today’s choice
Previous poems
Dylan Foster
Sabbatical
there’s not much you can do
when the planets
are telling you to stop
and gravity, who
only wants the best from us,
says
get down to the ground, that
you are
wanted, and so
you obey, become as
asphalt or fertiliser. you press yourself
into the earth suppress your
own need. your limbs turn to
branches then learning new
ways to grow and eventually
you’re there long enough that
everything you write and
do is mirrored
by the stars again.
Dylan Foster is a poet based in Surrey, U.K. When not writing he can be found hiking or playing the marimba. He has previously been published in Cordite Poetry Review.
Clara Howell
The way a halved peach breathes, then rots
from the inside out.
Luigi Coppola
Out of ten bars, by the fifth, half of us had flickered
out and by this ninth one, it ended up just him
and me. A matchstick balanced on a stool, he sat
Jon Wesick
Loaded with hawks’ cries and horses’ huffs
Ennio Morricone’s score wails
Paula R. Hilton
When the genie appears, I’m in a frivolous
mood. First request? My mom’s apple pie.
Alice Huntley
slack in a bag from the freezer aisle
shaken out like shrunken grey memes
I long for the podding of beans
Rhonda Melanson
The magic of growing things, its tangible beauty, I did not understand.
Clive Donovan
I go to the top of the risen hill,
above the trees, beyond the grass,
where only hard ground lives
Gary Akroyde
We searched for it
through the tarmac in every rain-bruised sky
in dark Pennine shadows where great mills
spewed out ringlets of ghost-grey fog
Nathan Curnow
I like to think it’s a story about himself and Einstein
floating in zero gravity, Albert sailing through the capsule
toward his drifting pipe, Brian playing We Will Rock You—