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.

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

Soledad Santana

Seen as she’d hung her cranial lantern
from the roof of her step-father’s garden shed,
the parabolic formula was skipped; like two calves, we followed the fence
to the end of the foot-ball pitch.

Jim Paterson

A Tuesday morning in November
out on the street taking in the bins.
As a flight of crows flashed past
the street lights went out.