Today’s choice
Previous poems
Chrissie Gittins
My Brother Teaches Me How To Open And Close A Door
When you’ve used one handle to open the door,
use the other handle to close it.
That way the draft from the open window
won’t whip it closed and wake everyone up.
Even now he still teaches me –
keep your phone safe from thieves,
protect your muscles and bones,
sprinkle ground eggshells around your tomatoes.
His arm is always around my shoulder –
as the garden birds abandon his feeders for insects,
as he searches for a recipe for his plentiful courgettes,
as he lies awake at night making lists and lists and lists.
Chrissie Gittins‘ collections are Sharp Hills (IDP), I’’ll Dress One Night as You (Salt) and Armature (Arc). She appeared with her fifth children’s poetry collection on BBC Countryfile. Her second short story collection was shortlisted for the Saboteur Awards. Her work has featured on BBCR4 and the Poetry Archive. She is a Hawthornden Fellow. @ChrissieGittins
Greek Feature Day 2 with Patrick Williamson, Jena Woodhouse and Kate Hendry
The temple at nightfall Patrick Williamson's recent poetry collections include Presenza (Samuele Editore). Here and Now and Take a deep look (Cyberwit.net). Editor/translator of Turn your back on the night (The Antonym) and The Parley Tree, Poets from French-speaking...
Greek Feature Day 1 with Leanne Moden, Elliott Waloschek and Z D Dicks
Herpetology Often, my worries are frog-shaped, flexed flippers flashing through vanishing ripple reflections. Poisonous green thoughts. The amphibious twisting of double-state catastrophising. I have perfected the art of doing nothing, looking busy and helping no one....
Judith Wilkinson
If I can shape-change myself if I can
reassemble the rubble of my vision
so I can re-see
dragonflies, apocalypses, trivia
Juliet Humphreys
Look at me, look —
night eyes find their way
without light.
Damon Hubbs
How a Plastic Bag in an Elm Tree on Winter St. Learned to Mimic the Moon
It’s growing in what was once the tree
with the great green room.
It’s singing in yogurt
and fluttering like an amorphous pearl
of necrosis.
Shasta Hatter
Empty Basket
Driving down the boulevard, I see large trees decorated with pink and white blossoms, evergreens tower over houses, trees flourish with spring greenery.
Tim Dwyer
The kitchen window has been
my hermit cell
Cindy Botha
what shows up at dusk
moths of course, pale parings―
filmy, restless
dark swarf of birds homeflitting
to perch-trees
sometimes a hedgehog
nosing leaflitter
an owl wooing from the pines
Vic Pickup
Operation Alphaman
It took a great effort and I had to bite hard on the stick
to push the subcostal muscles aside.
The skin had parted easily under my knife,
though keeping the blood at bay with no one to swab the wound
was difficult. This was remedied with a vacuum cleaner