Today’s choice
Previous poems
Steph Morris
Summers in black
Who’s idea was it? I think his, as I’d started
wearing everything from Oxfam. Among my finds
collarless shirts. There was I
and my clique, ourselves fearfully
fresh, seeking out lived-in things, clothing
with more history than us.
This although a year or two back
we’d so hated hand-me-downs.
So he started offering me his old clothes first,
trying to help his son – to understand.
And as my favourite colour became the colour
he wore for work, he gave me his old shirts,
all black of course, washed-out and worn-in,
collarless, just a circular band around the neck,
with a slit either side at the front
where the stiff white strip slipped in.
Obviously I wouldn’t be wearing that bit,
ever. But the shirts I lived in
all summer, loose, but still black,
a couple of buttons open, neck free,
something most Jesus and Mary Chain fans
didn’t have – something he could do.
Steph Morris’ poems appear in his chapbook Please don’t trample us; we are trying to grow!, in the anthologies Joy//Us, Poetry Prescription: Becoming, Up//Roar, and in various magazines and gardens.
Gwil James Thomas
Terrestrial locomotion
across concrete,
the inverted pendulum,
moving flesh and boot –
Royal Rhodes
The passenger train along the Connecticut shoreline moves as if in a
river of wooden ties and steel rails. . .
Neil Elder
There are blackbirds singing beautifully at dawn,
Mozart and Shakespeare existed and that’s fine . . .
Abegail Morley
Tonight, my houseplant child asks about sunlight,
brushes my arm as she stutters on the word,
photosynthesis . . .
Kathleen Gray
When she asked what I wanted
to be when I grew up, my mother
laughed when I said ‘free’
Viv Fogel
At the End of the Class
The young woman in a hijab thanked/praised/appreciated me
For all I had shown/ encouraged/ inspired in her
Asked whether I observed/ took part in/ celebrated Rosh Hashanah?
David Bernard
I wrote the title of the lesson on the board and underlined it with a flourish. The class listened to my introduction.
Colin Pink
I used to ‘see’ you when you were alive,
I mean when you weren’t there. I carry you
around like a photo in a wallet.
Lottie McCrindell
All summer the sun scorched the city
and the sky held back its tears.