Today’s choice

Previous poems

Jean Atkin

 

 

 

Lighting the Strangers into the cave
for Celia Fiennes, who rode 3000 miles around England on horseback in 1697

She hears the locals call it
the Devil’s Arse.

the hill on one End jutting out
in two parts and joyns in one at ye top
this Cleft between you Enter a great Cave

She creeps under the opening, then stands.
Her guide passes her the stub of a candle,
holds up his own to show the ceiling rock.
She hears the drip of water. In her riding skirt
that sweeps the ground, her narrow, heeled boots,
Celia clambers over stones and under stalactites

there is often Cause of Stooping very Low to pass by
and ye Rocks do drip water in many places
wch makes it damp and strikes Cold to you
haveing Lost ye sight of day

Although a Puritan, Celia writes it in her diary:
‘the Devil’s Arse’.
She is less prudish than the men
who come exploring
a generation later, resort
to asterisks.

 

 

Jean Atkin’s third full collection High Nowhere is was published last year by IDP. Previous publications include How Time is in Fields (IDP); The Bicycles of Ice and Salt (IDP) and Fan-peckled (Fair Acre Press). She is a poet in education and community. www.jeanatkin.com

Pat Edwards

Pat Edwards

He is in white-out, stopped in his tracks,
dying for the comfort of a fag.
He makes a chalice around the flame,
hands becoming shield so he can light up.

Pamilerin Jacob

Annette the gap-toothed,
You kissed a man & I was born. You gave him
your laughter & he built an empire,

Nathan Evans

If they ask where I am, tell them: I am
wintering. I have secreted small acorns
of sadness in crevices of gnarled limbs
and shall be savouring their bitternesses
on the back of my tongue until the days
lengthen.