Today’s choice

Previous poems

Sue Spiers

 

 

 

Eels
Anguilla anguilla

I wrote a metaphor using eel
for blue-light reflections in water
on a flooded motorway
and mentioned glittering scales.

My writing group said skin
which didn’t have the same feel
for an ambulance’s race
seen through windscreen blurs.

The only time I’ve seen an eel –
it was grey and jellied
at a West Ham fan’s wedding
breakfast – I didn’t eat any.

Mucus skin and memory
of a Fenland writer’s poems
about a stepfather who farmed them,
or fished them, in one-way-in-

no-way-out willow baskets.
She used eel as a metaphor
for a claustrophobic landscape
and feeling trapped.

 

 

Sue Spiers works with Winchester Poetry Festival and is working her fourth collection through potential publishers, and there’s a fifth on the way.  More here: www.spiropoetry.com

Rosie Jackson

I Am Trying to Love Frank O’Hara More
I really am! I am trying not to see his exclamation marks as cheap melodrama and his endless conjunctions as some kind of separation anxiety or fear of mortality for what do full stops signify except dying

Tom Blake

We were the housing and the housed,
meaning nothing except that
we were always occupied,
or to put it simply never out.