Today’s choice
Previous poems
Day Two of ‘Wonder’ for NPD: Geraldine Stoneham, Guinevere Clark and Annette Skade
egg
her first was almost translucent
light brown with dark freckles
laid in the pot of a dying nasturtium
a virgin birth in a pile of hay
dropped and abandoned
like it was nothing special
Geraldine Stoneham lives in South Australia after spending her working life in the UK. She has been writing poetry for 7 years and has been published in Ink, Sweat &Tears amongst other magazines
Matryoshka
I stop reading
but learn the alphabet again,
live on boiled eggs, phonetics,
broccoli heads,
swap my time
for stacking,
dandelions, balls,
you – gently hardening
into your whorls,
learning not to kill snails
or break
a flower’s first curl.
I button your centre,
that warm kernel of love,
knowing there is no morning
that will give me the same child.
Doll-son, lashes of feathers,
softening to night,
I’ll sing,
sing while you sleep
on all that we have accomplished.
Guinevere Clark is a poet, editor, and creative producer. A Forward Prize nominee and Hammond House international poetry prize winner, her work appears widely. She holds a Creative Writing PhD and is Founder of Poetry Into Light CIC.
Hale-Bopp
Hale-Bopp orbits the sun once every 2534 years.
The comet last reached perihelion in April 1997.
In the same space — millennia apart — an overlay.
On the threshold of a home built of the stone she walks on,
this woman / that woman wraps arms around her middle,
watches a new brilliance in the blackness, wonders
what comes next
This woman / that woman clutches at the familiar,
the rising falling chest of a just tucked in child,
thud of cattle hooves on the sea’s backbeat,
the clench re-clench to her stomach.
blood turmoil sacrifice
Ears stay alert to all that surrounds
but her eyes must look up.
She is helpless under it,
this star / no star / this axe between the shoulder blades.
run her body says run
Annette Skade’s two books of poetry are Thimblerig, (2013) and the eco-poetry book Holdfast, (2024). Poems appear in journals in Ireland, Australia, the UK and US, Current work concerns Dark Skies, and how light pollution threatens biodiversity and human relationships with the night.
Steven Taylor
A very long time ago
Stephen Fry’s godfather, the
Justice, Sir Oliver Popplewell
Who chaired the inquiry
Into the Bradford City
Amirah Al Wassif
Beneath my armpit lives a Sinbad the size of a thumb.
His imagination feeds through an umbilical cord tied to my womb.
Now and then, people hear him speaking through a giant microphone—
Singing,
Cracking jokes,
Mark Smith
In the portacabin that morning, men smoked
and looked at last week’s paper again.
There was no water to fill the urn.
The first job – to get connected
Toby Cotton
A blustery day –
the wind too strong for kites
or for lifts to the sky.
“To a thoughtful spot,” it cites
and pins me to the earth.
Ansuya Patel
except this burnt red vase.
Hand shaped in the muffled roar,
devouring flame in the furnace’s mouth.
Hannah Ward
Look, Drew, the
plums are in
pieces beneath
us. I dreamt:
Andrea Small
a flower is not a heron
does not stand on one leg
spear-billed over golden carp
Usha Kishore
At dawn and dusk, my father
becomes a chant, that flies above
the courtyard of the old house
Jane Frank
The leaves are a colour you’ve never seen
but that I will learn to expect
and there’s a fracas-induced full moon