Today’s choice
Previous poems
Violeta Zlatareva
Money for Candles
The neighbor is a devout woman.
She bakes bread and lights candles,
scolds the noisy children of others,
and dresses in modest clothes.
Everyone in the building fears her.
They believe she can see through skin.
Let someone lie or even laugh,
and she immediately marks them as wicked.
The other day, by the lamp post across the street,
old man Gosho fell—indecently drunk.
And our dear, righteous neighbor
quietly slipped a few dollars from his pocket.
Violeta Zlatareva is a Bulgarian writer and poet. Her books include Whale Academy and Register Misfortunes. Her work has appeared in print and digital anthologies. Her debut novel, Zdr, ko pr?, is forthcoming.
Angela France
Driving into low cloud everything fades
to a blur, all colour and definition leached
David Van-Cauter
Two calls this morning – flood of tears…
She cannot eat a single thing they give her.
Dan Stathers
A long way from the quags of Nova Scotia,
stowaway beneath the cherry laurel thicket,
more triffid than cabbage . . .
Sarah L Dixon’
I fall in love with Leeds Coach Station, Holts pints,
a shared fish supper from Arkwrights.
Simon Alderwick
1
in the beginning,
there was light.
and light said:
let there be god.
and god meant: everything
touched by light.
Tim Kiely
The Abbot of Kosljun Monastery Considers the Cyclopean Lamb
He suppresses a shudder as he summons
the brothers from the library; shows…
Rebecca Bilkau
Travel essentials
A rucksack isn’t a kitchen dresser, or a view, or
a whirl of Christmas Market cinnamon, sweet almonds…
Sylvie Jane Lewis
Water Damage Noted 06/24
An old lady enters, soak-dizzy,
puts her returned book on the trolley.
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…