Today’s choice

Previous poems

Ansuya Patel

 

 

 

I Cast Out Everything

except this burnt red vase.
Hand shaped in the muffled roar,
devouring flame in the furnace’s mouth.

Sand becomes skin of light.
Its glass body trembles like a sea
animal remembering its salt.

I hold the lagoon’s sigh,
gondolas murmur, emerald waters
flowing along Venetian blue

like mistresses of fire. Its
slender nape of earth
burned to water,

air captured in crystal.
Everything dissolves —
paper, promise, footprint.

But this vase remembers how
light once learned to stand
still.

 

 

Ansuya was a joint winner of Geoff Stevens Memorial Poetry Prize in 2024. Her debut collection is out with Indigo Dreams Publishing. Her poems have been shortlisted for Bridport, Alpine, Aurora, highly commended at Erbacce. Appeared in Allegro, Artemesia, BlackinWhite, Crowstep, Drawn to the Light, Gypsophila, Ink Sweat and Tears, Rattle and Renard.  She can be found on Instagram @ansuya_a_ and online at https://indigodreamspublishing.com/ansuya-patel

Lydia Harris

ask this place
ask the silver day
the steady horizon
the self-heal the buttercup
the hard fern in the ditch
ask the bee and the tormentil

Mark Carson

he dithers round the kitchen, lifts his 12-string from her hook,
strikes a ringing rasgueado, the echo bouncing back
emphatic from the slate flags and off the marble table.

Elly Katz

When naked with myself, I feel where a right elbow isn’t, then is. I let my left palm guide me through the exhibition of my body.

Sarp Sozdinler

As a kid, Nehisi used to sleep in a treehouse. He could curl right into it from his bedroom window. He would have a hard time falling asleep every time his parents got loud or physical.