Today’s choice
Previous poems
Mark G. Pennington
The sea organ city
Vigo in Autumn is still a furnace
the nightjars
roost on ram-tarmacked roads
and hot guapas carrying fish baskets
in narrow alleys
or chestnut groves
leading to the sands
listen to me
hola
gracias
and other various offences
and when I rest in the mainland
there is a man in a pornographic suit
beside an old olive tree
shading from the sun
and with him is a briefcase
open
showing the box of sandwiches
along comes a water dog
sniffing for explosives
the line trying to catch hake for zarzuela
he closes the case
then waves the animal away
palatially swatting in steaming air
its owner
comes over with the leash
hanging limp
and nooses the dog
ahead of an oyster stall
in the street
and all is beautiful again in the sea organ city
Mark G. Pennington has published three collections of poetry, one chapbook which finished runner-up in the Cerasus chapbook competition, and one novel. He has been nominated twice for the Pushcart Prize.
Alice O’Malley-Woods
i run like a goat
tongue-lolled
Caiti Luckhurst
But first the sun has to break in two
Mara Adamitz Scrupe
on that new broke land I don’t anymore
recall there may have been a tree line or a hedgerow
a grove named & a bird’s sternum
George Sandifer-Smith
Spring 1833 – mists folding their sheets in the fields.
Isaac Roberts feels the turned earth, his father’s
farm an island in the hurtling Milky Way –
Sharon Phillips
Wet tarmac blinks red and gold,
names shine outside the Gaumont.
‘Stop dreaming, you’ll get lost.’
Bill Greenwell
Before the first turn of the key, before
adjusting the mirror, before releasing the handbrake even,
Dad said: there are two things you need to know.
Matt Gilbert
Alive, but not exactly,
as it fills the frame, flicker-lit
by lightning. . .
Rebecca Gethin
This morning
the room is bright with snowlight
and everything seems illuminated differently.
Lorraine Carey
Every Sunday he insists on beef
from Boggs’s butchers, a forty minute drive
away.