Today’s choice
Previous poems
Tadhg Carey
Pivotal
When our plaything ricochets
falling
who knows where
everything hinging
on the line
there is a precise moment
when nothing is certain
a glorious terrifying uncontrollable
wait
the receptacle of our hopes
poised mid-
air with infinite trajectories
across the open field of possibility
time is slowed to an inhalation
and as I write this I am helpless
as an onlooker watching
from the sidelines
open-
mouthed
on the threshold of expression
not knowing where this will all end
nor what will follow the breaking
of the line
Tadhg Carey is a writer from Ireland. He is a Shared Island Freedom to Write Project awardee, was selected for the Cúirt International Festival New Writing Showcase, and was highly commended in the Fool for Poetry International Chapbook competition.
Dilys Wyndham Thomas
we walk through the exhibition hall lost
amongst water-logged bones, a sunk haul lost
Ruth Lexton
It is late at night and the kettle is boiling,
a quire of steam fanning out in the white kitchen
you are holding me as if I were your girl again
Stewart Carswell
It’s the house at the end.
White paint flakes off the front gate,
wood rots beneath.
Chris Kinsey
Hey cat, you’re doing really well,
three fields stalked and only one to go.
Holly Magill
. . .you’re swallowed whole
into this cocoon: pine-scent, antibac and the dry
whoosh of his heater – lean your careworn bones into
synthetic leather snug, . . .
Dave Simmons
My sky is a hole from which the bucket drops.
Like all heretics, I am put to work processing stones.
Paul Fenn
To impress you, I became
a seven-year-old son of Sparta.
A little hard man, crayon
marching down the page.
Ruth Aylett
God had been playing computer games
for a chunk of eternity when he became aware
he’d left creation in the oven for a long time
Chris Campbell
The View From This Hospital Window
I admire an empty bench for hours –
then a glum couple sit to share strawberries.