Today’s choice
Previous poems
mulika ojikutu-harnett
Monocle
remember when we lived
in the shrubs? stewed in a shared
room. its stench. our own
ripeness torturing lungs
scored elastic.
remember as well
as thieving, together we hauled
the laundry of our bodies
pretty-with-dumb into
a service kitchen
unable to see further
than a bus length
to trouble beverley
cooking. noses grifting
for food. left over.
crumbs from our parents
unfinished plates. your glasses,
trodden in haste, worn monocular
milk-bottle lens
held to eye as quizzing glass.
and remember too
we sinned in the maelstrom.
knowing nothing of aging. how
easy bone breaks by some
-thing as simple as coughing
mulika ojikutu-harnett (lowercase) is a Nigerian-Brit producer, coach, and analytic psychotherapist published in PERVERSE, Clarion, Agbowó, Tentacular, Under the Radar. Her poem ‘Bruisewort’ was awarded in the international Kent & Sussex Poetry Society Open Competition judged by Kit Fan (2025)
Julian Dobson
You too I guess
have studied the surviving starlings
as they swoop and whistle
by the snack trailer at Moorfoot
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,