Today’s choice

Previous poems

Piers Haben

 

 

 

 

High-Visibility
The precondition for being a ghost is not only death but faith in an afterlife. Kit Fan.

When I lost loved ones last year
I thought my childhood fears would return.

Sleeping in mum’s house waiting
for the seen and felt,

the stupid spoon on the ouija board,
cold coming into a room.

Like when I swept offices, and ran
from the room with dummies in.

But now I find the absence more terrifying.
Oh god, maybe I don’t miss them enough.

Maybe the dead move amongst us
and we hurry through the ghost city,

like commuters, eyes down,
unaware of the cleaners coming home,

the men in high-vis jackets congregating
at the edge of the floodlit road.

 

 

Piers Haben is a British poet and recovering economist, currently living on Pico Island, Azores, where his writing explores the intersections of labour and island life, whilst also physically working with stone and soil. Piers was recently shortlisted for the 2025 Wolverhampton WoLF poetry competition.

Tim Dwyer

      Shedding Annamakerrig It begins high up the chestnut tree with leaves on the twigs on the tips of branches where sap has slowed. Turning amber carried by the breeze they touch the earth, rest on the grass where autumn begins   Tim...

Sandra Noel

The sea happens to me today

not because I’m the woman in the bakers
brusque turned rude
or the peaches              still hard in the bowl

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.

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 . . .