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.
Poetry from Gurmeet Kaur, UEA’s Birch Family Scholar 2025/2026
I kill lines of ant. Heat arrives
in the wrong season. It feels important
to know the names of birds under
the thrum of a flight corridor.
Sarah Nathan
The ash that screams into the night,
the lake that dries, the child amongst the rubble,
the heat, the fire, the lack of books,
Anna Bowles
Akademichna Street
is bombed-out flats, is
the hot-pink Sweet Bakery Café, is
straggly new-planted trees, is
Philip Athans
Never shows up late to a single thing he’s invited to
Always brings the most thoughtful and carefully curated and perfect gift
Never shows up early and never once overstays his welcome
Always appears well groomed and clean and appropriately dressed
Michelle Diaz
This is just a woman,
sticking her life back together
after years spent recovering.
Autumn Richardson
What you are –
bodied light, a store of oil
a hive of warm blood
Rebecca Parfitt
In the back of the taxi on my way to the hospital,
thighs clenched together,
the driver asked me,
Samarth Agarwal
Here — in the absolute zero of space — fireworks!
Look how the crucibles of creation,
those million coloured fingers that stretch light years —
Jenny Scoones
We unlearn how it felt to touch
And resume our separate days in shirts and trousers,
Like hazmats against the sun and its longing,
The moon with its underbelly pulls.
