Today’s choice
Previous poems
Robert Billinski
the sky and the water and the birds and the fish
(Inspired by Sky and Water I. 1938. Maurits Cornelis Escher)
the sky met the water where the birds met the fish
the sky met the water where the fish met the birds
the sky met the birds where the water met the fish
the sky met the birds where the fish met the water
the sky met the fish where the water met the birds
the sky met the fish where the birds met the water
the water met the sky where the birds met the fish
the water met the sky where the fish met the birds
the water met the birds where the sky met the fish
the water met the birds where the fish met the sky
the water met the fish where the sky met the birds
the water met the fish where the birds met the sky
the birds met the sky where the water met the fish
the birds met the sky where the fish met the water
the birds met the water where the sky met the fish
the birds met the water where the fish met the sky
the birds met the fish where the sky met the water
the birds met the fish where the water met the sky
the fish met the sky where the water met the birds
the fish met the sky where the birds met the water
the fish met the water where the sky met the birds
the fish met the water where the birds met the sky
the fish met the birds where the sky met the water
the fish met the birds where the water met the sky
the sky made the fish so they could swim in the water
the water made the birds so they could fly in the sky
the sky made the fish so they could frame the birds
the water made the birds so they could frame the fish
the fish made the sky for the birds to fly
the birds made the water for the fish to swim
the fish jumped in the sky and became the sky
the fish were the sky only swimming in the water
the birds dove in the water and became the water
the birds were the water only flying in the sky
Robert Bilinski is an amateur poet and train driver from Sheffield. He enjoys writing ekphrastic poetry and experimenting with formal styles.
Mark Wyatt
yes of course/ it was idyllic, reclining (pint of/ cider in hand) poolside in the harvesting/ sunlight
Catherine Shonack
when confronted with vast, endlessness of the ocean
who wouldn’t go mad?
Ansuya Patel
Women scrape coins from their purse,
count pennies, one lifts up a watermelon
in mid-air like raising a newborn to light.
Pippa Little
a woman’s rage cannot raise the dead
but it may split stone like lightning
Abiodun Salako
a boy grows tired
of dying again and again.
i am building him a morgue
for Thanksgiving.
Patrick Wright
It’s as if the dream
is telling me we are still joined
somehow, despite waking
and me trudging on, even though
your voicemail is off, your locks
changed.
William Collins
We carry the shame of Paragraph 352D
folded into suitcases at foreign borders,
where love is questioned like a crime,
and disbelief stamped heavier than visas.
They tell us to run for our lives —
but only if we can do it quietly.
Oz Hardwick
The ghost of my mother knows the names of everything, but
she can’t tell me, because ghosts, whatever you have heard
to the contrary, can’t speak.
McLord Selasi
I walk the flat barefoot,
step over old dreams
still curled like cats
in the corners.