Today’s choice
Previous poems
Chrissy Banks
Some of This Is True
Sun comes out, my body opens
all its folding doors, its windows.
Sun comes out, my body floats –
like feather, cirrus, floats across the grass.
Sun comes out. Under the apple tree
in the hammock, my body lays me down.
Sun comes out, my body sighs –
or purrs maybe – yes purrs.
My love returning home comes wandering
to where my body stretches out..
He brings me mango juice
brings plump black cherries.
He strokes the fur on my arm.
Chrissy Banks lives in Exeter and co-hosts Uncut Poets. The Uninvited is available from Indigo Dreams and Frank, from Smith/Doorstop. She won third prize in the Bridport Poetry Competition 2024. She has been published in Penumbra, Frosted Fire and Under the Radar.
Kathleen Gray
When she asked what I wanted
to be when I grew up, my mother
laughed when I said ‘free’
Viv Fogel
At the End of the Class
The young woman in a hijab thanked/praised/appreciated me
For all I had shown/ encouraged/ inspired in her
Asked whether I observed/ took part in/ celebrated Rosh Hashanah?
David Bernard
I wrote the title of the lesson on the board and underlined it with a flourish. The class listened to my introduction.
Colin Pink
I used to ‘see’ you when you were alive,
I mean when you weren’t there. I carry you
around like a photo in a wallet.
Lottie McCrindell
All summer the sun scorched the city
and the sky held back its tears.
Roz Doe
The night before,
I paced London’s streets
sparkling and fizzing with ideas
the pills used to dull and destroy.
I felt awake, alive.
Iris Anne Lewis
And so I went into the owl.
Eyes, green as moss,
darken to black. Oak tassels
spell-woven to feathers.
Nairn Kennedy
You notice the nose: webbed veins spritzed
with little flicks of red, purple blotches
daubed with a palette-knife, broken ends
where blood-vessels gave up the ghost.
Jason Ryberg
Still Life of Fish and Bird