Today’s choice
Previous poems
Lorna Rose Gill
I Don’t Remember Breakfast With You
Maybe I remember getting brunch;
or the time the dog ate my croissant;
or when you fed me strawberries ironically in bed
and we giggled with sugar on our lips.
These breakfasts bubbled like new rivers.
Now, mornings are made of muesli on the sofa,
the dog between us, coffee and juice.
We didn’t mean for routine. We put it together
piece by piece and the sun agreed.
Lorna Rose Gill is a poet and facilitator. She lives on the Wirral with a man and two dogs and is mostly inspired by the liminal space of the intertidal zone. Find her on Instagram @lornarosegill and theorangeverse.substack.com
Catherine Redford
Death’s Head Moth The effect is to produce the most superstitious feelings among the uneducated, by whom it is always regarded with feelings of awe and terror. ‘The Death’s-Head Hawk-Moth’, in Edward Newman’s An Illustrated Natural History of...
Jessa Brown
Wulf and Eadwacer’s Daughter Make Meatballs after the Old English poem Jessa Brown, a UEA creative writing MA student, has been an Acumen Young Poet. Her work has been published in the Brixton Review of Books, The Mays, and Young Writers,...
Vasiliki Albedo
Our Country Our house was a country my parents founded but none of us were citizens. Nights, the corridor’s iron gate was a border, locking us in our rooms. My mother was both state and warden. I wrapped a hair around my diary before leaving for...
Joanna Wright
Joanna Wright lives in the Scottish highlands. Her poems have been published in Northwords Now and Spelt Magazine.
Jenny Hockey
Bonding I carried you home as if you were an extra bag I might have required while taking my time over shopping — both of us newly hatched on the sun-filled hospital ward. By the time I arrived in the kitchen, the men had already begun on the...
From the IS&T Archive for Father’s Day: Caleb Femi
This poem was first published on IS&T on 15th July 2018. Rose of Jericho I am waiting for water; do not blame my Father though he made me a curling spine of dried roots. In a home not built for foliage he did his fatherly duty to pass on only what is necessary to...
Ann Grant
Confessions to a neurologist When it started, I’d tip my chin down to my chest, loving the sensation of my body buzzing. I’d wake, fall to the wall, panic crawl to the loo, ask my wife if my palms were really burning hot I choke on nothing but...
Margaret Poynor
Sugar Daddy The week before Christmas, my friend arranged a blind date for me. In retrospect, she wanted to replace herself with me. Oysters, lobster thermidor, sherry trifle with silky custard in the Savoy Grill. He flattered, flirted, cupped me...
Philip Foster
At Home with Long John Silver My mother told me to never suffer fools. "Never suffer fools" she'd say and she hit me round the head. I had an intolerable migraine that stopped me getting out of bed. "Never suffer fools" she said. She'd look them...