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

Gavin Lyon

Gavin Lyon

My Garden

I have been here far too long
with the grass growing through me
sprouting up on my toes and chest,
flowers adorning my hair.
A bird perches on the lawn
of my leg watching the bees
pollinate the laurel of my head.
The woodlice inside my heart
have burrows through its memories.
And the night begins to fall,
the whispers of wind luring my soul
up towards the stars when I hear you
call me in, saying it is time,
and I don’t know whether I am falling
back towards home, or away from it.

Elizabeth Cook

Elizabeth Cook

Avoir du Poids

Degas knew it: the weight
of his hand on thick paper
as he pressed down or skimmed
with a crayon. The strong arm
of the Repasseuse as she guides the hot iron
round the seams of chemises
and blousons: the outs and ins
of complicated pleats. Miss La La
– how the rope tugs against her teeth with the full bulk
of her muscular body as she hangs from the roof
of the Cirque Fernando. In the dance schools,
when he sits close, he catches the sound of the shoes
– darned, rosined points and the soft soles;
the small unavoidable thuds as they land.

More Guest Poems

Roberta Dewa

Edward Burra: Never Tell Anybody Anything In the endI gave up on people, my layered clowns,my boxers’ lips, my stroke-struck faces. InsteadI painted their standing gravestones, the long slicksof their tracks across the landscape. Sometimes,despite my best attempts,...

Martin Reed

Red Hares When I think of the haresome raggedy, angular graceraces through my mind. It comes unlooked forwhen chatting of nothing,rounding an August cornfield hedge, up and away across sharp stubble,square to the ground in an upright scurry,arcing its route to distant...

D.G. Herring

Thoughts on Crater 308 …io nol feci Dedalo…Dante's Inferno 29:116 It is freedom we sail to. Or this is our story. Who gets to flywhen the winds are not hers to control? Yet, there is nocoastline, nor even a sea. Only mind. And, when the wax melts, pesanteur. In the...

Frances Sackett

Amongst the Rubble from a photograph by Lee Miller All colour is bleached from the landscape.Only grey dust, ash falling, dereliction.The children sit in the rubble, face in hands,horrified that their homes have gone.The boy, eldest of the three,is creased with...

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 RiteProvokes all Paris to riot!Mods and rockers rev and roast:‘There’s...

Kate Noakes

Is it Crazy to Wish them Happiness? Some friends don’t get angry in flaming emojisor start nonsensical fights with others, voice their disagreements in no uncertain termsor claim superior knowledge of diverse subjects. They don’t much like things. OK, they never like...

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...