Today’s choice
Previous poems
Winifred Mok
Wildflowers
No one has ever told me to
Go back to where you came from
Perhaps it’s because
I look like
I’m just passing through
They know I know
I don’t look like I belong here
I fall into the category of guest
The perpetual rambler
A forever tourist
All’s fine: roaming landscapes
Of poppy, cornflower, ox-eye daisy
The native ecology of
Where I might have come from
Versus where I want to be
Winifred Mok is a poet, filmmaker and podcaster. Based in the UK, her writing has appeared in various publications, and her poetry has been shortlisted for the Bridport Poetry Prize.
Note: Some wildflowers that are considered ‘native’ are actually neophytes — a plant introduced into an area relatively recently and has since become naturalised (in the context of the UK and Europe, this is defined from 1492).
Kevin Denwood
Name called.
Not mine.
Wasn’t I
here first?
L Kiew
I leave everything on shingle,
meet surf like a sibling,
crest over playful breakers
and chase the moon’s tail.
Margaret Baldock
We launched, lovingly
into dark and silky water
unknown yet benign.
Krishh Biswal
You did not ask for knees —
They found the floor themselves.
Not from command,
But gravity.
Tamara Salih
That winter the snow kept rising,
a slow white wall climbing the windows,
each morning untouched,
Alicia Byrne Keane
I’ve been reading about ghost apples.
They are a real phenomenon, like how
everyone we can see on the wide street
outside this building is still living,
Gareth Culshaw
I tried to work from a van. Sitting in the passenger
seat listening to a guy whistle. His frown, a cloud
he lost when his mother died. Each wrinkle
Jennie Howitt
Those full udders will slowly burst
spitting milk onto the grass strands.
Matt Bryden
at the cider farm, eight minutes
before handover, we strike on
feeding the donkeys –