Today’s choice

Previous poems

Taḋg Paul

 

 

Taḋg Paul is a queer poet, former LGBTQ+ rights campaigner, and software developer. In 2022, an injury rendered him quadriplegic. During hospitalization and rehab he rekindled a love for writing poetry. Today he volunteers at Fighting Words mentoring young writers, creates art, and lives with his dog, Toby in Greystones, Ireland. He showcases some of his poetry on tadg.ie and his artwork on tigger.gallery

Pat Edwards

      Speaking in code I once heard a man speak in tongues, just sounds like words, but not words. He told us he was filled with the spirit. I once heard remuterations in the air, cirvivulating on the breeze, uncanny in their lisonulance; breathless...

Sophie Diver

      Ghost, Moth They want you out of this House of forgotten tea in which you are floating Like a calcium slip This house in which you yield As a sweep of onion skin In old dishwater Disgusted by yourself hollowed out In the flesh of an armchair An...

Oliver Comins

      On the Hill No-one has seen me outside the bungalow. I am a rumour behind windows that reflect the sky and reveal nothing of an indoor life. I could pretend there is an extensive lawn in front of me, leading down a gentle slope to a pleached hedge...

Emma Jones

      Autumn A sea of firecrackers on spindly fingertips. The wind sails through harmonious foundations. A thunderclap, a secondment of wings, embossed leaves fall like burning fossils. It's the hour for nightingales.     Emma Jones is a...

Jane Ayres

      muted tethered i let her touch me without touching me (tears before bedtime) but (listening to the deep ache keeping the things that hurt close closed making space for kinder smotherings) i could never tell you friendship isn’t a consolation prize...

JP Seabright

      Do you remember how we danced in the dark, the sky was still, the earth was breathing. After the guests left, after the wake, you stayed, and we stood close but not quite touching, until you took my arms and we swayed in time with the music of the...

Corinna Board

      Pond life Take this pond, for example. Goldfish blow ellipses… you pause, breathe. The pond counts the beats: in for four, hold for seven. Lily pads float like Pac-men in a plant-based alternative to the game you wasted hours on as a kid. The pond...

John G. Hall

      Thrift In the shadow of Drumadoon the pink bobble headed Thrift stitch the bones of basalt scree summer's wreath for the cold stone that once rose angry red hot columns pastry cut pressed into the science of my camera.     John G. Hall...