Today’s choice
Previous poems
Autumn Richardson
Hive
What you are –
bodied light, a store of oil
a hive of warm blood
chemicals flooding a brain, calculating
a furnace
filament of awareness in
a palpating dark
a treeless dark
a stone-edged dark
coal river dark.
Flesh and its impermanence.
Autumn Richardson is a poet, editor and translator. Since 2009 she has been co-director of multimedia publishing house Corbel Stone Press. Her most recent pamphlet is The Long Before (CSP 2026). She lives in Connemara, Ireland. www.instagram.com/autumnrichardson_poet
Sue Butler
Squirrels have beheaded all my parrot tulips
and the supermarket is out of chilli, also tabasco sauce.
Cormac Culkeen
the sun is a
white coin
lifted
from the sea
Maurice Devitt
Yes, you gave us your elegant hands
and capricious smile, but as I make my way
to the chiropodist this morning,
it’s your feet I’m thinking of . . .
Martin Ferguson
Pursue the facsimile
of the attendance sign;
here you must join the line.
Peter Branson
Emerge, from way beyond the pale, one day,
clenched feet an amulet about your wrist
Alice Huntley
carved from the tusk of my grandmother
I am learning how to remember
Bel Wallace
My dad is thinking geometrically,
eyes closed; he waves his arms
Sarah Crowe
they gave me the cold
cap to stop my chemo
hair falling out
Daniel Dean
A beastly man swallowing leeks. His throat
Is dirt, and yet his ghost could sit with Raphael