Today’s choice
Previous poems
Dylan Foster
Sabbatical
there’s not much you can do
when the planets
are telling you to stop
and gravity, who
only wants the best from us,
says
get down to the ground, that
you are
wanted, and so
you obey, become as
asphalt or fertiliser. you press yourself
into the earth suppress your
own need. your limbs turn to
branches then learning new
ways to grow and eventually
you’re there long enough that
everything you write and
do is mirrored
by the stars again.
Dylan Foster is a poet based in Surrey, U.K. When not writing he can be found hiking or playing the marimba. He has previously been published in Cordite Poetry Review.
Clara-Læïla Laudette
I’m six days late
and this is known as a
delinquent period.
Jan Swann
You seem very far from home
and who would after all choose a grit pocked
pavement to languish on
Gwen Sayers
Clouds spit on the coffin,
wring oily rags, splash
a woman, her violin
cased in sunken purple.
Dave Wynne-Jones
And did she break your heart?
A woman asks, perhaps imagining
A fallen chalice . . .
Simon Maddrell
Four years in Knockaloe was a living
inspiration for inventor Joseph Pilates.
Tom Kelly
At thirteen I am competing with James Joyce,
encouraging pain, at the very least discomfort.
Nick McGaughey
And here you are slid from the rain
under my door, “s” -ing along the cool
checks in the hallway.
Poetry from UEA MA Scholars 2024/2025: Grace Phillips and On Zi Rui
You bought peppermint and bubbles,
monologued in the corner.
You barely looked at me twice.
– Grace Phillips
I looked at the neon lights
Gazing, I asked myself :
“What am I sourcing for now that I am without you ?”
– On Zi Rui
Jade Prince
What is here for us but these walls and the
pearls of sweet yearning behind them