Guest Poems

We love to read your poetry and, even though we receive over 1,000 poems per month, we always take time to read every single one.

A few of the poems we especially enjoyed and which were selected for publication in our Journal are reprinted below.

For more information, please see our Submissions page.

Guest Poems

Ranald Barnicot

Ranald Barnicot

After a Concert II

But music does not always unite.
Armies clash on through the night,
Ignorant, in aesthetic spite.
Brahmsians, Wagnerians brawl,
Trash composers, concert hall.
Igor Stravinsky’s Spring Rite
Provokes all Paris to riot!
Mods and rockers rev and roast:
‘There’s gonna be blood on the South Coast!’
In music my folks and I were foes
Although we never came to blows.
‘Mozart, Bach… not that “blues”!’
Myself to most tastes am inclined,
Almost a universal mind.

Kate Noakes

Kate Noakes

Is it Crazy to Wish them Happiness?

Some friends don’t get angry in flaming emojis
or start nonsensical fights with others,

voice their disagreements in no uncertain terms
or claim superior knowledge of diverse subjects.

They don’t much like things. OK, they never like things
and leave you entirely alone messaging into the void.

Are these the best kind?
They don’t remember your birthday, but

a few times a year they arrive in your memories
or remind you of their special day.

That’s when you can’t avoid thinking of them,
as if you don’t every day.

Is it crazy to wish them happiness?
All those on facebook who are now dead.

More Guest Poems

Edith Speers

Tennis Club Indoor Courts aquarium worldseen through thick glasssubterranean silence four-limbed fishstrange white fishin a green and white world the walls are light green on topdraped on the bottomwith dark green cloth dark green flooris subdivided and outlinedby...

John Killick

Anglezarke As Edward Thomas his Adlestropso I my Anglezarke,but with this difference:for him it was the nameon the station signand the tranced afternoon;for me it is the namethe rest clean goneconjures the feeling,but there must have beenwater, woods, fields, for...

Annie Kissack

Saint with Accoutrements after ‘Mrs Mounter at the Breakfast Table’ by Harold Gilman All spotless. Some objects we might deemespecially significant:the glistening tea pot, pristine cupslustrous milk bowl, the best surely.We inhale diverse aromas:odour of home-made...

Jonathan Steffen

Car Coat Through all the subtle chicanes of his existence in the 1960s,It was his constant companion –That car coat redolent of hairpin bends and handbrake turns,Bearing him along shopping parades and in and out of supermarkets,Evoking pine-clad mountains and Alpine...

Judith Wozniak

Back to Nature i.m. J.S. You liked to sleep outat the edge of your gardenunder a scatter of starstucked into your bivouacon a bed of leavessoothed by a soft breezedrift over the South Downsthe smell of honeysuckleafter rain the rustleof hedgehogs in the compostto wake...

Robert Leach

Horse A pool of shadowShapes the lonely placeWhere the old horse stands.He shakes his head. Remote fromCows, sheep, people,It seems farming proceedsAround, beyond him. His tufty fetlocks apeThe head-heavy cow parsley,Hair grass, oval sedgeUnheeded at the field’s edge....

Helen Ashley

On Stage Small spillages of lightare gathered on the woodland floor.Invisible strings tie themto the matrix of branches above. Sun, looking down through the canopy,has assembled them and standsas director, while a light breezetakes on the choreography. To their...

Terry Sherwood

Warning Signs gracing sea and coastland: kittiwake    herring gull    puffingracing wetlands: curlew    whimbrel    lapwinggracing grassland: fieldfare    yellowhammer    skylarkgracing waterlands: goldeneye...

Piers Cain

Half life It all depends which way you turn in the halflight, in the space between day and nightor between one year and another. It affects how much your eye adapts, and how darkor bright the sky you face, how soon or latefor you the night draws in. And when you walk...

Matt Gilbert

A Solar Diversion The sun slants low. Rays point west,refracting from the roofs of oversizedparked cars on Manor Mount, forcing youto squint, walking down the slope towards the station. Preceded by long shadows,bouncing to the rhythm of their owner’s feet,you are...

Jeremy Page

Phantom Ancestor Hawker of Morwenstow Who wouldn’t claim a man like thisfor an ancestor? Poet, man of God,mermaid impersonator, who bore the nameof my maternal line, whose wiveswere twice his age then less than half,who saw birds as the thoughts of the Almightyand...

Christine Griffin

His Chair They’ve cleared the rooms,feeding the firewith what’s left of his life.Only the chair remainsin a miasma of old man,pipe smoke, Rich Tea crumbs. The cat by the footstoolwaits for the gnarled, caressing hand. Fragments of poetry floatfrom tattered chairside...

Jim C. Wilson

Swans At Night On the wildest night of the year’s beginning,the park’s a moor, the pond a heaving ocean.Like hailstones, stars soar past our heads;the trees are stripped by the shrieking gale. My eyes stream and my face feels stretchedand I worry about tomorrow....

Damaris West

Into this Breathing World Found in hallowed soil,his scoliotic spine strungloosely like a rosary(one shoulder higher than the other;five foot eight but would have seemedmuch shorter) he’d been struckby many men so eachcould claim the fatal blow. History has told of...

Sara Davis

Carousel Set free – the horses leap out to grasspause – sit onto angular hocksstretch stiffness from limbs cramped too longthen snorting – high stepping they buck – run – droproll over and over – ease rigid spinesmask paint-bright colours in scuffles of dust. Heads...