Today’s choice

Previous poems

Jan FitzGerald

 

 

 

Old Age

What is not to love
when you draw back curtains
and taste clouds
in their newness and innocence

or watch the sky
raise its brass trumpet
in a call to gratitude.

What is not to love about
the air on your skin,
each breath a new miracle

or the sound
of a small bird’s song,
the gift a tree offers

welcoming you back to the world.

 

 

Jan FitzGerald is a NZ poet with publication overseas including Atlanta Review, Loch Raven Review, Voegelin View, The London Magazine, The High Window, Allegro, Acumen, Orbis and Gutter. Shortlisted twice in the Bridport Poetry Prize, she has five poetry books published.

Maggie Mackay

A thirty-year-old woman walks into
the wee sma’ hours of a December
night. Snow is light
on her hair and the back
garden shrubs. It thickens. The sky
turns white. She stands still.

Jemma Walsh

    Siberian Larkspur     Jemma Walsh is an Irish poet based in London. She is currently doing an MA in Creative and Life Writing at Goldsmiths College. Her work has been published in The Irish Times, Moth Magazine, HOWL Magazine, Crossways...

Rebecca Gethin

I won’t forget her on the beach – fur the colours of sand.
We wouldn’t have spotted her were it not for the jiggle

of her gait, the turn of her head with ears pricked,
the spine’s taut bow and torque of her hocks.

Sue Proffitt

You stopped the car in the lane just before our driveway.

I didn’t ask why. Chestnut trees leaned in on either side,

the damp air breathed. You sat there, looking straight ahead

and said there’s nothing worse than being queer.