Today’s choice

Previous poems

Samarth Agarwal

by | Aug 30, 2026 | ,

 

 

 

Object M16- The Pillars of Creation

He who created all things, and bears up the pillars of creation, hath now become so weak, that He must be carried by a woman! – Charles Spurgeon

*
Here — in the absolute zero of space — fireworks!
Look how the crucibles of creation, 
those million coloured fingers that stretch light years — 
force fusion, squeeze hydrogen, become 
furnaces of light birthing suns.
Yes, they birth suns — which means they are dying.
With each new star the pillars suffer:
erosion, cremation, photoevaporation.
All creation has a sacrifice.
All creation has a birth.

*
All creation has a Mother.

*

Why am I remembering now the star-empty nights?
When — having crossed the event horizon of my mind,
I would run to you. 
You would take me close, lie down by my bedside, 
like stars strewn across midnight’s floor, 
lit only by the mosquito light’s red dwarf glow.
I would wake the next day, your only trace
the gentle warmth in my hands, 
slowly cooling into the universe.
 

Samarth is a poet currently living in London,UK. He spends his time participating in writing workshops, volunteering at local charity shops and attending to his cat. His work has been featured or is forthcoming in Cerasus, The Poetry Habitat, Nova Literary Art’s Mag and Bacopa Lit Review amongst others.

Gordon Vells

by | Jul 25, 2026 | ,

Impotent in family life and ineffectual at work,
sometimes he would spend a full quarter-hour
just circulating the mini-roundabout on his moped,
dizzy from the power of blocking everyone else.

Patrick Wright

by | Jul 24, 2026 | ,

i protest     say how when i’m gone i’d like to rest before the choice to return & go through 
all this again     you sigh as though that’s absurd & endings are just endings     we’re mulch 
& nothing but endless fucking 

Francis de Lima

by | Jul 22, 2026 | ,

Oh London. U useless city. Map to

                                                                        nowhere land. Tight stretch 

                                                                        open eye. The underground metal. 

The night tube. The railway. Smog

Over coaltrip. The presence

                                                                          Of machine upon machine. U

Miriam Swales

by | Jul 21, 2026 | ,

When I was 12, I knew the weight of a human head.
8 Heads in a Duffel Bag (a bit of dark comedy).
It grew from there. The curiosity. The calculations.