Today’s choice
Previous poems
Mark A. Hill
Marseilles Road
-She calls him up-
She wills his brush in colour,
and chalking, fierce hued flaws,
which fall flat on the canvas,
She uses a dark outline and replaces
his image with cholic fumes.
-He doesn’t pick up-
He wants to place her in
two horizontal bands
of dense tormented paint,
she passes before him in ochre framed sunglasses.
On paper, she is studious, perfect and elegant.
He scratches a beach with rocks,
fishing nets, a silver storm,
a full blue light in retreat,
which devours her opaque form.
-She wants to despise him for how he makes her feel. She calls again-
She draws a cemetery behind the beach
and he reflects that this is not what
he wants from this painting,
she must be more attentive to nature,
the changeability of the skies.
-This time he picks up and they speak long and full-
His last picture is lighter,
rendering her clearer.
The vertical lights reduce her throat
to a simple furrow,
echoing thin blue lines in the sky.
Space is flattened like in the Japanese prints
Monet loved so well.
The boats are these small delicate brush strokes,
he will use to push her off to sea.
-he asks that they might learn colour together,
she replies she cannot, and that he must respect form-
Mark A. Hill is a poet who has lived in Cagliari, Italy for 33 years. He has been published in several literary journals and magazines. His debut poetry collection Death and the insatiable was published by Hidden Hand Press in September 2025.
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.
Violeta Zlatareva
The neighbor is a devout woman.
She bakes bread and lights candles
Robin Vaughan-Williams
I’ve got all this money lying around.
Have you got anything you can do with it?
Rizwan Akhtar
What fell between an abrupt shower
and a sky’s attitude was your memory.
Jeff Gallagher
Colleagues munching bap and burger
thought Ramadan was that juicy winger,
his scorching pace soon snaffled up by City.
Sue Moules
Sings at the top of the bare-branched tree
an aubade to morning
welcomes the light,
early spring, season of nest-making.
