Today’s choice
Previous poems
Sue Spiers
Compline
A woodpigeon calls
his five-note matins.
Petals ratchet wide
as the sun rises.
A butterfly’s haphazard wing beat.
Reverberation of a gong,
sandalled feet on tiles.
Golden leaves in the gutter,
the downpipe’s digestion of rainfall.
Petals grind shut at dusk.
An echo of monkish vespers.
An owl brings mice
to hungry young.
Sue Spiers was born in Cyprus and returns when she can. She adores Kleftico, Baklava and olives. Sue helps out with the Winchester Poetry Festival, Open University Poetry Society and spoken word evenings with Winchester Muse. Twitter: @spiropoetry Website: https://www.spiropoetry.com
Isobel Williams
If you’re asking how to get invited
To draw at a sex club . . .
Clare Currie on Mother’s Day
After learning about the maternal instincts of seals, I took to listing postpartum offensives
Charlie Hill
What was he running from?
Well what have you got:
the blood-soaked news of course,
theme parks, leaf blowers, HR,
but also the language . . .
Jane Wilkinson on International Women’s Day
Queen Conch
My spirit animal is a sovereign sea snail. A part-time anchoress,
anchored to her cell.
Jenny Moroney
Clogged heavens
the aeroplanes criss-cross through
what was imagined there
Marc Janssen
Took a needle to a dictionary.
It dispersed like confetti . . .
Edward Vanderpump
The bridge is beyond the city.
I don’t know anything about the war.
Ships cannot come here on account of the war.
Glenn Hubbard
The cart stands axle deep in seething water.
The blade emerges from the foam, its load
bituminous and black . . .
Kushal Poddar
The child resurfaces.
The morning has no colour yet.