Today’s choice
Previous poems
Kathleen Gray
Liberty
When she asked what I wanted
to be when I grew up, my mother
laughed when I said ‘free’
She’s been dead for more than
thirty years – not much freedom
in her kitchen-sink life
She settled for snatching time out,
pausing with that dreamy look,
that secret smile,
knife in one hand, half-scraped
carrot for Thursday’s soup
in the other, oblivious
to me spying from the kitchen
door, wondering where she
escaped to and if one day
she’d decide to take off
her apron, leave us free to
cook our own soup.
Kathleen Gray is Scottish by birth, French by adoption. Her poems have been published in various literary magazines, including New Feathers, Drawn to the Light, The Alchemy Spoon, London Grip, Poetry Scotland and Causeway. She lives in Paris
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.
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