Today’s choice

Previous poems

Paul Connolly

 

 

 

At Aber Falls
 
he felt nothing
water sheeted
past grottoes
snakes of tributary
lazed along

below Yr Wyddfa
a steam train
sauntered by
sun-sharp tufts
of grass and black
tears of earth
upward away
and all the land
beside the train
slipped down
away and down

from Swallow Falls
cataracts brewed
scummy heads
on pints of stout
in a heaving bar
festive thunder
empty of people

as small-hour streets
are emptied full
and flowing waters
surge clear
and feel nothing
full and empty
he felt nothing

 

 

Shortlisted twice for the Bridport poetry prize, longlisted for the Orwell Prize in the blog category and for the Bridport novel prize, Paul Connolly has had poems appear in many poetry periodicals, including previously in Ink Sweat & Tears. Shortlisted for the Charles Causley Prize, he was highly commended in the Sentinel Quarterly and third in the Magna Carta Competitions.

Liz Lefroy

      Egg Inside, it’s containment: a smooth shell curving away into itself, taut around a thin membrane which closes on its viscous, one-celled strength; and it’s a silent circling of mass, unused to air, unexposed to the risk of strange heats, to the...

Mary Wight

      Feasting She brought thoughts, words rather than grapes, slipped out among laundered clothes. Little offerings best but today he wanted more and she couldn’t deny him. Her tongue spilled stories he devoured, egged her on until the cough again,...

Dave Stacey

      Morning has broken Please bear with me one tiny moment while I try to explain: listen: a speck of a half-fledged sparrow doesn’t sit at the top thin twig of a late winter tree and throat his half-formed song for all he is worth, which isn’t that...

David Belcher

      I’m worn out by talk of devastation I walk out the door, turning back to twist the key in the sticky lock. On the street my first impulse is to look around, tilt my ear to the faintest sounds, summon a semblance of optimism; but looking for the...

Wayne F. Burke

      I Know Rainy Nights the wet cold touch the splatter and drip in wind swept mist and black as pitch streets lit by red and green scrawls and torches of scalding headlights.     Wayne F. Burke's poetry has been widely published online and...

Katherine Stockton

      Hibernation Girl I feel the summer days in winter & winter days through summer. In transitional seasons I do nothing at all but revise how to survive. How easy it is to transmute between you and the next love that I can already see coming. As...

Zoe Broome

      Between Sunsets We danced like madmen all night in our tap shoes – knitter knatter, pitter patter. A prancing pair we were, from pub to pub. Always drunk, we puffed gutter-stubs. Knowing no daylight, we rose vamplike each sundown. We stank of our...

Erin Russell

      canyon meme    we’re the kids so swole so cocksure cowboy cool in leather boots stampede serrating mountain ridge our lump-karst slick-boy Johnston gorge- ing on feathering algae, curious syntax, jagged gaps in the treeline behind—    telling...

Niles Reddick

    Jury Duty When the official summons from the Sheriff’s department arrived in my mail box, I thought I’d been caught speeding again by the camera at an intersection in town, or they were soliciting for the Sheriff’s reelection.  I was surprised it was a...