Today’s choice
Previous poems
Wendy Clayton
Everything Changed except our Way of Thinking
I’m always thinking about how I can find more human beings. Or how I can have a better relationship with a human being. Why you are you. And I am I. And why that should be a problem. It wasn’t when we were young. Until you became more you. And I I. I am sorry. It is a sorrow. Always has been. Now we can’t even
let the bees out.
Wendy Clayton taught English and general subjects, was active and published in several poetry journals: A Pennine Platform, A Pennine Anthology, The North, Indigo Dreams, Shearsman, Osiris, Tears in the Fence, Stand, The International Times, The Fortnightly Review, Stride and forthcoming in Stride, Stand and in Pamenar. Her poetry was long-listed for the Erbacce poetry prize, 150 out of 15,000 – in summer 2022. In the same year she participated in the Carcanet summer course with Michael Schmidt and John McAuliffe. Twinship and Consciousness, was published in October, 2021, With others she worked to found an alternative school in Geneva.
Grace Lynn
Sunlight saunters in long, thin wires through the fallow field
of my bedroom. You approach, a migrating heron
in a runny yolk collar and suntanned shorts, a white-light emissary
of hope. . .
Miriam Swales
I’m waiting for news I don’t want to talk about
and scrolling through old photos to escape.
After some swipes, I see you walking away.
Chris Hardy
The night before we left we smoked opium
for the first time and didn’t sleep.
Angela France
Perhaps some small creature fallen
from where it should be. I am unsure
whether I saw it move.
Adam Horovitz
We cannot update you yet, other than to say we are caught
in a doldrums between stations and that your father can wait
as he has been waiting these past two years . . .
Sue Spiers
A woodpigeon calls
his five-note matins.
Petals ratchet wide
as the sun rises.
Alison Jones
Distance from the ground has become
a way of reminding myself,
how the earth turns her swaying tilt
John Coburn
Inside May’s warm beauty
I think of God and of the Virgin Mary.
I’ve always loved Mary.
Joe Wright
three sheep and a sharp wind, behind
which I feel involvement start
to tug.