Today’s choice
Previous poems
Jenny Hockey
Circulation
Crouched above the stream he dug,
known by his kid-along brother
as the dry gulch, its circulation pump
rarely switched on, I’m not just
weeding but digging wormy compost
into the banks, pruning the hebe
and dredging winter’s detritus, banishing
slime and renewing the silted pebbles,
till by the end of this warm afternoon
a long bubbling flow springs from the top
of the garden, hurrying between rocks
before tumbling into the pond and back
as he comes home with a coin of blood
on the bandage at his wrist, occlusions
in his arteries, an aortic valve on the blink
and a hospital date some months ahead.
Later we talk gardening, my daughter
and I, the clogged stream, free-flowing
now. In some societies that’d be
job done, she says — we laugh.
Jenny Hockey is a Sheffield poet who’s published in magazines such as The North; Ink Sweat & Tears; The Frogmore Papers and Dreamcatcher. She reviews for Orbis and her collection, Going to bed with the moon appeared in 2019 (overstepsbooks.com) (jennyhockeypoetry.co.uk)
Day Four of ‘Wonder’ for NPD: Rupert Loydell, Nick Cooke, Dave Hubble
Down the great hill we plunged,
not scared of picking up speed
because that was the point,
running fast as a horse.
Day Three of ‘Wonder’ for NPD: Math Jones, Jean Atkin, Kate Noakes
We’ll find the beach, but first through
the flowering wood, there’s celandine,
little suns of spring, casting.
Day Two of ‘Wonder’ for NPD: Geraldine Stoneham, Guinevere Clark and Annette Skade
I stop reading
but learn the alphabet again,
live on boiled eggs, phonetics,
broccoli heads
Day One of ‘Wonder’ for NPD: Philippa Greasley, Cindy Botha and Niklas Pettersson
Halfway to the island, the engine falters
and every cup trembles in its ring.
Emma Dandy
I’ve been staring at the blank page of this notebook for an hour. I close my eyes and breathe in for four, hold for four and out for eight, then repeat three times.
Ken Cockburn
We slept as best we could on the night train.
Leaving the station we walked empty streets
aimlessly until turning a corner
there it was, silent and vast as the moon.
Tim Dwyer
On the pitch of the roof
a jackdaw holds a twig
longer than its wingspan—
do corvids feel pride?
Genna Gardini
go back, small cell, atom
slit by light. It takes up
space, an ocean, a planet, a
Fran Hayden
a friend messaged me:
“every time I see sunflowers,
I think of you”