Today’s choice

Previous poems

Ned Vessey

 

 

 

Conversations

My father and I
skim the surface of conversations
something like those swallows do
down at the lake
instantaneous precision
of withheld effort
brief furrows
of beak and wing
on water’s brows.

But sometimes we forget
ourselves
the pub sends us
into the drink. Cormorants
beaks that know
surgery of water
peel back gloom and grit
until the innermost things
of the lake choke
writhe on the shoreline
unaccustomed
to the scrutiny of light.

Fearful we let the lake
have them back
and no one says a word.

 

 

Ned Vessey writes poetry and prose about landscape, people and place. His prose has been featured in The Guardian, Slightly Foxed Quarterly and The Clearing. His poetry has appeared in The Dark Mountain. He lives in Bath.

Janet Hatherley

      In my cookery exam, we have to prepare a family meal This is summer and Mum can’t put out her trot line with its hooks because of swimmers so I buy three mackerel from the fishmonger. I cycle to the school bus stop one arm on the handlebar,...

Jason Lovell

While children kneel at your cage in awe
edge offerings of cashew nuts, chopped fruit,
curse words into your magnificent beak,
mums settle carrier bags at tired wet feet

Elijah MacBean

      My Name is My Name Ami never let anyone call my sister Sam – it always had to be Samina. She said she’d rather be waterboarded than let her daughter be whitewashed by whites too conservative to spare the extra syllables. Ami never let anyone call...