Today’s choice

Previous poems

Sheila Saunders

 

 

 

Man in a Room
after Interior at Paddington  – Lucian Freud.

Which is the subject?
Limp-leaved yucca
reluctantly dying,
the foreground figure
in its stony pot?

Or the man with a stare
glassy-eyed behind spectacles,
fixed into absence
or challenging the viewer.

He inhabits, but barely, the slovenly mackintosh,
a cigarette hardly held, unlit,
the only suggestion of purpose
his curled fist of yellow fingers.
Can this be a home, sordid,
uncared for, or just a waiting room
where he stands in a purgatorial present?

In fear perhaps of the loiterer under a gas lamp,
boy or man undefined,
seeming absorbed into the street wall,
looking up to the window grille-
– this no protection from the imagined
or real.

 

 

Sheila Saunders graduated from St Anne’s College, Oxford, with a degree in English Language and Literature, and since then worked as a reporter on local weekly and daily newspapers in Lancashire, Lincolnshire and Buckinghamshire. She has always loved theatre, music and art, but it is her observation and fascination with her natural surroundings, including the wildlife of the coast, that has inspired most of her poetry. Her poems have been published in journals including As It Ought to Be and Words for the Wild.

Irene Cunningham

Lavender seeps. I expect my limbs to leaden, lead the body down through sheet, mattress-cover, into the machinery of sleep where other lives exist.

Graham Clifford

The Still Face Experiment 

You must have seen that Youtube clip 

where a mother lets her face go dead. 

Her toddler carries on burbling for twenty to thirty seconds until she realises there is nothing coming back to her. 

Ilias Tsagas

I used to dial your number to hear your voice. I would hold the receiver for a long time as if your voice was trapped inside . . .