Today’s choice

Previous poems

Susan Elizabeth Hale

 

 

Cup

Sometimes words are the only thing
that get you through,
But not the words you think,
not a word like love or hope
those are imprecise.
It’s more a word like window
or fenêtre
even curtain
words that are more certain,
that have weight on the tongue
that you feel through the teeth
puffs of air
that set off plosives in the mouth

Rilke was right
we are on this Earth to say
fountain

Sometimes it’s the sound of a voice
you’ve heard for seventy-four years
or since 8th grade
a sound that sets something in motion
like a harp string plucked
a name like Susanna
or Ian,
names that have origin in the body
that rise and generate
names that find you through the night

When words like broken
frozen
alone
stretch too far on the horizon
we need a word like cup
to bring us in from the cold

 

 

American ex-pat, Susan Elizabeth Hale has found her home in Ledbury and is a member of the Stanza Hereabouts. She has been published here and there and won third place in the Winchester Writer’s poetry competition in 2018. She is completing her first book.

Jean O’Brien

Winter soil is hard and hoar crusted,
birds peck with blunted beaks,
pushing up are the blind green pods
of what will soon be yellow daffodils,
given light and air.

Jean Atkin

We scoured the parish tip most weeks, when we were kids.
We clambered it in wellies.  Ferals, we scavenged
in the debris of the adults’ lives.

Lesley Curwen

Her feet snagged in a cleverly-placed net
my sister waits for him to untangle her,
to hold her head still between thick fingers . . .