Today’s choice
Previous poems
Samarth Agarwal
Object M16- The Pillars of Creation
He who created all things, and bears up the pillars of creation, hath now become so weak, that He must be carried by a woman! – Charles Spurgeon
*
Here — in the absolute zero of space — fireworks!
Look how the crucibles of creation,
those million coloured fingers that stretch light years —
force fusion, squeeze hydrogen, become
furnaces of light birthing suns.
Yes, they birth suns — which means they are dying.
With each new star the pillars suffer:
erosion, cremation, photoevaporation.
All creation has a sacrifice.
All creation has a birth.
*
All creation has a Mother.
*
Why am I remembering now the star-empty nights?
When — having crossed the event horizon of my mind,
I would run to you.
You would take me close, lie down by my bedside,
like stars strewn across midnight’s floor,
lit only by the mosquito light’s red dwarf glow.
I would wake the next day, your only trace
the gentle warmth in my hands,
slowly cooling into the universe.
Mark G. Pennington
Vigo in Autumn is still a furnace
the nightjars
roost on ram-tarmacked roads
and hot guapas carrying fish baskets
Ivan McGuinness
Begins
in a bubble
strained by chalk.
Where the brim-full hill cries,
weeping tracks merge
Elizabeth Wilson Davies
There are places in Wales I don’t go: reservoirs that are the subconscious of a people – R S Thomas
Cofiwch Dryweryn, that two-word protest,
white on blood-red background, landscaped in green,
Kay Feneley
Some days I must immerse myself in the waters
These days are more than others
Monday 09.06 – a sewage overflow has activated
David I. Hughes
He does not shout. He charts.
Where treaty lines once hung like old nets,
he inks the deep, the dark, the yet-unmade.
Anne Stewart
Huddled on the cat’s blanket,
hyenas crying through the night.
Scribbled notes regretting tea,
Mark Czanik
I loved the tales Luke told me of starving writers,
and the sacrifices they made following their hearts.
Stephen Chappell
She has a way of tilting your head
as if lining up a thought.
Tristan Moss
I try
not to think
about my daughter’s
condition
when I
hug her