Today’s choice
Previous poems
Jennie Howitt
wild cows
Those full udders will slowly burst
spitting milk onto the grass strands. Will roll
down to feed the roots below. Then the weeds will follow.
Weeds will grow next spring. Weeds will unfold
as bulbous udders without holes
– un-milked –
with hip bones wider than a reach
Jennie Howitt is a writer and performer from Shropshire, working on bog and wetland poetics. She recently judged a competition and gave a workshop on bog poetry with the Poetry Society. Their work has been featured in Pamenar Press, Poets Choice, Ariel Magazine, Bedford Square Review, Writers Block, Beyond Words magazine, and multiple Young Writers anthologies. They have won and been commended in various Poetry Society competitions.
Jan Swann
You seem very far from home
and who would after all choose a grit pocked
pavement to languish on
Gwen Sayers
Clouds spit on the coffin,
wring oily rags, splash
a woman, her violin
cased in sunken purple.
Dave Wynne-Jones
And did she break your heart?
A woman asks, perhaps imagining
A fallen chalice . . .
Simon Maddrell
Four years in Knockaloe was a living
inspiration for inventor Joseph Pilates.
Tom Kelly
At thirteen I am competing with James Joyce,
encouraging pain, at the very least discomfort.
Nick McGaughey
And here you are slid from the rain
under my door, “s” -ing along the cool
checks in the hallway.
Poetry from UEA MA Scholars 2024/2025: Grace Phillips and On Zi Rui
You bought peppermint and bubbles,
monologued in the corner.
You barely looked at me twice.
– Grace Phillips
I looked at the neon lights
Gazing, I asked myself :
“What am I sourcing for now that I am without you ?”
– On Zi Rui
Jade Prince
What is here for us but these walls and the
pearls of sweet yearning behind them
Esha Volvoikar
The earth cracks and we are left
with the same shared moon.
She peers through my lattice window
and hides behind your city’s smoke.