Today’s choice
Previous poems
Sue Moules
SURREAL SHEEP
I sell the postcard
of multi-coloured sheep
over and over again.
“Done on a computer I suppose”
says a lady as she hands over forty pence.
“Yes, I expect so” I say.
I’ve only seen white,
black and brown sheep,
earth coloured in the fields.
Not hand-coloured
like my parents’ wedding photo
so they were always young.
I sell the postcard
of multi-coloured sheep
over and over again:
Weather good
honey ice-cream lush,
wish you were here.
Sue Moules‘ most recent collection is The Moth Box.(Parthian).
Gerry Stewart
In My Last Phone Call Did I say it looks like rain? I meant the sky is black with a thirst only crying can quench, clouds smothering the hills. Did I say this was my home? It was a mistake. The walls are collapsing even as I paint myself into a...
S Reeson
There is no evidence anywhere that Albert Einstein ever said the definition of insanity is ‘is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results’ except there he is, all over the Internet, being attributed with having done exactly that.
Annie Kissack
No place to put a man
and hope he’ll stay together.
The sensible nouns are already exiting the side door.
Rachel Curzon
There is as much darkness
as she wished for. As much moon.
Abu Ibrahim
When young boys go missing,
the neighbourhood rallies a search party.
We panic like a bomb’s ticking
Debs Buchan
Tish was always coming home
home with its broken bricks and scrap fires
always the smell of something burning
Rebecca Brown
She’s grateful to be alive with these tumours crackling in her bones
Alan McGuire
Going downtown was pre-drinking, save money, buy confidence.
Going downtown was queuing outside Walkabout, a drunken reality show.
Going downtown wasn’t a release, but a rite of passage.
Ryan O’Neill
Where can we go on holidays this year,and when will we get a house if you’re away for two years,and now you’re crying,and it’s £4 to park for the day . . .