Today’s choice
Previous poems
Jon Miller
Moving In
The upper floor of the old byre
a darkness made of owl-stare—
its blink drinks you in.
A scythe hung under the last gasp
of a rafter. An armchair sprouts
the beards of men who died in it.
The skylight a cataract woven
by funnel-spiders; a car roof-box
full of barbells and throwing knives
and scattered across creaking planks
that any moment might give—
fur balls, owl pellets, rickles of tiny bones.
As I descend the ladder each worn tread
a hand cupping my foot: take care take care
says the dust in my hair, you live here now.
Jon Miller was shortlisted for the Wigtown Poetry prize, was winner of the Neil Gunn Poetry competition and was one of the winners of the International Book and Pamphlet Competition in 2022. His latest pamphlet Past Tense Future Imperfect is published by Smith|Doorstop.
Steph Ellen Feeney
My mother is here, and might not have been,
so I hold things tighter:
the small-getting-smaller of her
running with my daughter down the beach . . .
Anna Fernandes
My stubby maroon glove spent a chill night
on the velvet ridge of Clent Hills
tangled in summer-dried grasses
Jo Eades
It’s Wednesday and / again / I’m laying pages of newspaper on the kitchen table / tipping up the food waste bin /
Sue Butler
We cultivate the knack
of getting down on the floor and
back up three or four times each day.
JLM Morton
In a dull sky
the guttering flame
of a white heron
Tonnie Richmond
We could tell there was something
we weren’t allowed to know. Something
kept hidden from us children
Morag Smith
When the waters broke we were
out there, borderless, with just
a view of bloodshot sky from
the labour suite
Gordon Scapens
Stripping wallpaper
leaves naked the scrawls
of yesteryear’s children,
small forecasts of flights
that are inevitable.
Chrissy Banks and Antony Owen (from the IS&T archives) for Holocaust Memorial Day
Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep Goodnight moon, goodnight stars, goodnight cherry, pear, apple tree. Goodnight pond, stop wriggling, newts, stop zipping the water, water-boatmen. Goodnight, glossy horses on the hill, rabbits in the field, white...