Today’s choice
Previous poems
Alice Huntley
Elephantine
carved from the tusk of my grandmother
I am learning how to remember
we follow the old paths
traced through the bush that belongs
and yet does not belong to us
where we are born is
where we pass through
if I could, I would pull down the moon for you
drag it to earth to light up your way
how lovely you are, my one girl
how memory grows heavy with us
every month a new blooming
one day perhaps you too will swell
and a child will tumble from the sky of you
Alice Huntley is an estuary girl, born by the Humber and living by the Thames. She writes & reads with local poetry groups in Richmond and Twickenham. Her work deals with memory and the body and has appeared in Mslexia and Waxed Lemon.
Leigh Manley
Should You Wish to Imagine Poetry in Ventricular Ectopy
False starts, I’m aching to roll with you,
though you catch me stumbling off beat latches…
Patrick Wright
When you drew lines in the sand with your long white cane
the lesson was that faces can be found just about anywhere.
S.C. Flynn
TENTH VIEW OF THE SOUTHERN CROSS
Araucania, Chile, 1800 AD
This is no job for the young, Melipal…
Lauren Sheerman
Offices
matins
as the sun thinks of rising i whisper good morning god into my pillow.
Curtis Brown
Property 26-2-24
After West Bank settlement marketing event… in New Jersey.
Some old masters may have operated in good faith:
unclear how they made their riches.
Vidushi Rijuta
Chances
I had nothing to lose,
so I took a chance.
Hilary Hares
The Crofton Road home team play football with the moon
They have no kit to speak of but compensate
with unshakeable belief they’ll ace the cup.
Sue Finch
The moon is a Punch in the sky.
A boy is carrying a bruise.
And nobody is talking to either of them
about ordinary things.
Heather Holcroft-Pinn
These things I know,
and in knowing, can do . . .