Today’s choice
Previous poems
Paul Stephenson
The Poem of the Sock
after Martin Stannard
The poem of the mask disguises meaning.
The poem of the diet lost seven words.
The poem of the snowman melted.
The poem of the invisible man .
The poem of the ventilator needs to breathe.
The poem of the ruler rules, okay!
The poem of the bath had no depth (full of bathos).
The poem of the mirror was a true reflection.
The poem of the plane never really took off.
The poem of the ship soon ran aground.
The poem of the sock has a hole in it.
The poem of the needle is a stich-up.
The poem of the highlighter reveals all we need to know.
The poem of the horse that fell was just getting into its stride.
Paul Stephenson’s debut collection Hard Drive Carcanet, 2023) was shortlisted for Lambda Literary Award and Polari Book Prize. He has three pamphlets including The Days That Followed Paris, written after the 2015 terrorist attacks. He co-edited the Europe (70) and recent Ownership (92) issues of Magma.
Mark Czanik
I loved the tales Luke told me of starving writers,
and the sacrifices they made following their hearts.
Philip K Dick eating dog food. Bukowski’s candy bars.
Nigel King
My compass – its needle set with a sliver of blue stone – spins and spins. Breath mists my snow
goggles. I wipe them endlessly. Even in these thick seal-skin mitts my hands are frozen. I have been
no place as still as this.
Clare Bryden
seek justice
and you hold
a seashell to your ear
hear
Gail Webb
He cuts. I lie still, teach myself
to dream of St David’s Bay,
seaweed strewn on incoming tides,
surfers slice big waves in half.
Kim Cullen
I pull a dress over my head
calm foggy blue linen
sleeved in lavender,
press frizzed hair
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