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.
Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal
I hear the roar of
the ocean. I hear
a series of shrieks
and long screams.
Natasha Gauthier
Nobody knows what Cicero’s gardener whistled
to his figs and olives, what the consul’s young wife
hummed to herself while slaves combed beeswax
and perfumed oils from Carthage into her hair.
Jean Atkin
She creeps under the opening, then stands.
Her guide passes her the stub of a candle,
holds up his own to show the ceiling rock.
Iris Anne Lewis
The track leads through thickets, threaded with eyes.
Elusive scraps of dreams, they gleam, flicker out.
Antonia Kearton
On my son’s desk lies
the periodic table of the elements.
I look. Amongst the arcane names
I recognise, easy as breathing,
carbon, oxygen, gold, beloved of kings.
Elizabeth Loudon
The first three days of war
have a surprising holiday feel.
No deadlines, just the giddy gasp of shock.
Ordinary life continues.
Oormila Vijayakrishnan Prahlad
A lacquer table, gloss under fingertips. A raised stage with dark linen. A young woman smiles with her hand-held harp, its nine strings glistening. The room swells with the cadence of her pearly notes. Beneath the pendant lights—a vision of serenity.
Pratibha Castle
Conscience
as taught her by the nuns was a bridle
on a young girl’s tongue
K. S. Moore
Teenage years
everything begins
it never ends
