Today’s choice
Previous poems
Robert Billinski
the sky and the water and the birds and the fish
(Inspired by Sky and Water I. 1938. Maurits Cornelis Escher)
the sky met the water where the birds met the fish
the sky met the water where the fish met the birds
the sky met the birds where the water met the fish
the sky met the birds where the fish met the water
the sky met the fish where the water met the birds
the sky met the fish where the birds met the water
the water met the sky where the birds met the fish
the water met the sky where the fish met the birds
the water met the birds where the sky met the fish
the water met the birds where the fish met the sky
the water met the fish where the sky met the birds
the water met the fish where the birds met the sky
the birds met the sky where the water met the fish
the birds met the sky where the fish met the water
the birds met the water where the sky met the fish
the birds met the water where the fish met the sky
the birds met the fish where the sky met the water
the birds met the fish where the water met the sky
the fish met the sky where the water met the birds
the fish met the sky where the birds met the water
the fish met the water where the sky met the birds
the fish met the water where the birds met the sky
the fish met the birds where the sky met the water
the fish met the birds where the water met the sky
the sky made the fish so they could swim in the water
the water made the birds so they could fly in the sky
the sky made the fish so they could frame the birds
the water made the birds so they could frame the fish
the fish made the sky for the birds to fly
the birds made the water for the fish to swim
the fish jumped in the sky and became the sky
the fish were the sky only swimming in the water
the birds dove in the water and became the water
the birds were the water only flying in the sky
Robert Bilinski is an amateur poet and train driver from Sheffield. He enjoys writing ekphrastic poetry and experimenting with formal styles.
Gary Akroyde
We searched for it
through the tarmac in every rain-bruised sky
in dark Pennine shadows where great mills
spewed out ringlets of ghost-grey fog
Nathan Curnow
I like to think it’s a story about himself and Einstein
floating in zero gravity, Albert sailing through the capsule
toward his drifting pipe, Brian playing We Will Rock You—
Paul Short
Sleep.
Elusive as lucid dreams.
Closed eyes teem wotsit-orange,
spiderweb scarlet &
thatch-brown
Ash Bowden
Out again with the pitchfork churning
compost into the old green bin, stinking
and silent as an ancient earthen vat.
Mallika Bhaumik
This is not a frilly, mushy love letter
to a city whose allure lies in defying all labels and holding the mystery key to a man’s heart, though none has ever been able to lay an absolute claim on it,
Jena Woodhouse
Around midnight, the hour when pain
reasserts its dominance, a voice
behind the curtain screening
my bed from the next patient’s:
an intonation penetrating abstract thoughts
Kate Bailey
They’ve mended the park fence again,
patched it over with the usual ugly metalwork,
like a riot barricade.
Ibrar Sami
Across the barren land
where blood once played its savage Holi,
the fearless migratory birds
have returned again.
Anyonita Green
It wobbles slightly, red wine jelly.
I peer at it, nose close enough
to smell the iron, the scent of coagulant,
inhaling through slightly parted lips