Today’s choice

Previous poems

Kevin Denwood

 

 

 

After the Fall

The dead flies collected
on the windowsill
like punctuation.

Black corpses
against
flaking white gloss,

dotted
like bombs falling
over London
or Berlin.

Tiny UXBs
lying
waiting
wanting
to explode
back into life.

 

 

Kevin Denwood is a poet based near Carlisle. His work has appeared in Ink Sweat & Tears, Free the Verse and Poems, Tales & Other English Words. He writes about memory, ordinary objects and the peculiarities hiding in everyday life.

Judith Taylor

He reads aloud about visiting the Underworld in dreams,
seeing his dead again. Through the big window behind him
there’s a flowerbed and some long grass

Anne Symons

      Magic Pennies My dad was a magician. He could make a penny disappear with a twist of his wrist just vanish in thin air to pluck it later from your ear or nose. People laughed when dad did that. He’d put a matchstick in the centre of a clean white...

Dave Wakely

      Grandfather/Grandson A hot, dry day in an already arid season. I stumble through stands of age-misshapen oaks, leaves blistering brown as they beckon me into the shade. From time to time, I glimpse a clearing to one side of the path, or a view...

David Lukens

Having earned their wings through evolution
it is almost as though they are loth to use them
preferring familiar earth, the old tree’s broad shadow.