Today’s choice
Previous poems
Abraham Aondoana
Inheritance of Smoke
We did not inherit land,
only remnants of fields they burned—
black fields scorched before we understood
what it meant to sow.
Fathers left us silence:
not of cruelty, but some shattering fear.
Growing up, we learned
to decipher flames as letters.
In family portraits, smoke curls,
ghosting over faces for whom
no one could name.
Discussing lineage,
we speak in burnt edges and shattered verses,
not gold— our legacy is ash—
a handful of heat passed down
from gnarled palm to trembling wrist.
A torch fashioned to sear
before it illumined the path.
Abraham Aondoana is a poet, novelist and scriptwriter. He holds a degree in law. He was recently longlisted for the Renard Poetry Press 2025. He enjoys reading and writing.
Julian Brasington
When one has lived a long time alone
and not alone your time become
someone’s history and you have grown
tired of yet another war and the world
has it in for you simply for being
Jason Conway
I heard a rumour that Pandora moonlights
She wears sunglasses in the lounge
knives flexed and ready for battle
Rachael Clyne
Torn
On one side– my heritage
on the other side– their heritage
on both sides– carnage
everywhere– endless grief.
Nick Browne
Woman in the water
I’m no Ophelia, that’s for sure crazy stuff is not my style,
no garland weeds around my head it’s spindrift foam not daisies.
Sally Michaelson
The Ledger
In the left hand column
she writes
He’s married
Rizwan Akhtar
In the evening trees become sad
I climbed on them like a metaphor
Alexandra Corrin
Six weeks after diagnosis
I stayed away out of respect for your daughters.
You followed the hearse with your father and the girls.
He couldn’t stay within the boundaries of himself.
John Barron
Thought Experiment
The clock has lost all its numbers.
I wake inside an Einstein thought experiment,
where my bones defy gravity and get sucked
what some call “up.” I’ve only time to grab
from beside the bed where we’re sleeping
our copy of Rovelli’s ‘Reality Is Not What It Seems’
Mick Corrigan
My List Poem of the All-Important
Trish,
Kindness,
A small family of wildflowers announcing themselves in an abandoned pot,
Morning sun warming barley fields at Castletown House Estate,
A grounded fledgling glaring defiance as I gently inquire of her health,