Today’s choice
Previous poems
Claire Booker
Dehydration
Never has there been so much interest
in the humble tongue. It peek-a-boos from my mouth
like the little man in a weather clock.
The consultant’s quick look predicts storms in its fur.
She keeps pouring water into my glass as fast
as I can gulp it down – more, yes, more –
working the jug with her right hand, taking my pulse
with the left, eyes fixed on my SpO2 levels.
What couldn’t she do with three arms?
Claire Booker‘s poetry has appeared in Agenda, Dark Horse, Magma and Stand, among others. She won The Poetry Society’s 2023 Stanza Competition, and was longlisted in the 2023 National Poetry Competition. Her collection, A Pocketful of Chalk is out with Arachne Press. Her pamphlet, The Bone That Sang, is with Indigo Dreams.
Royal Rhodes
Perhaps the friends of Lazarus, who died
and slipped his shroud, on seeing him might swoon
or rush to hear the tales of that beyond
they hoped and feared to face.
Dmitry Blizniuk for World Poetry Day
God in his worn, greasy jeans like a car mechanic
is lighting a new life from an old one.
Jeff Skinner
It takes ages. Tell me what it is you’re after
she says, when finally I get through.
Annabelle Markwick-Staff
I devoured the Olympics, filled my mouth
and scrapbook with sticky ephemera.
Charles G. Lauder
beneath night’s skin he unearths raw stones
serrated encrusted enigmatic cold
Arlo Kean
we are at a cafe just round
the corner from hampstead
heath & sipping berry sunrise
Paul Stephenson
Goya was an octopus that smelt of funerals on Mondays.
Sundays, the scent of getting ready.
Jessica Mookherjee for International Women’s Day
The pain comes plucked from a field
in a garland of sunlight.
Jenny Pagdin for International Women’s Day
After many moons
I am perhaps readying to speak.