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
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 fly
when the winds are not hers to control? Yet, there is no
coastline, nor even a sea. Only mind. And, when the wax
melts, pesanteur. In the dancing, we break from our
flatlands to conquer the vertical: bird, child or fountain
finding a way to mark time. Then laugh, to be out of it:
time can’t mark us. Like the circle of women who lift up
their feet as they turn, we can imagine a bronze held
in stasis. A chord from the phorminx is sounding…
can’t sound, in this medium. Dressing the oak tree
in bridal white flitters, I am always the bridesmaid, never
the ant who carries its thread to the heart of a sea shell.
Spiral that never unwinds. It’s a riddle. Solve it, you find
me. Saw from a fish-spine. Constructing the compass.
If the partridge won’t fly, is she weightless? I stand
in my crater: lost wax. If you go to the far side, you see it.
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 despair.
It is September, 1940, London has suffered nightly raids.
This was the street they played in
kicking a ball, rolling a hoop.
Their eyes cannot focus on the destruction.
A word they don’t yet understand –
depression – is weaving its way into their being
like the dust covering their boots,
seeping into their clothes.
More Guest Poems
Janet Laugharne
Sightseeing A few summers ago,the cloudless blue a markerto my memory that it was duringCovid times,I saw above my city gardenthat fantastic single bird.A few flaps of its gigantic wingsand it was gone,passing over Cardiff and who knows where else;not in any hurry for...
Christopher Levenson
Insomnia It’s a country I sometimes visitbut I wouldn’t want to live there.Even at 3 or 4 a.m., the bathroom’sstainless steel fixtures, white tiles,hold their own, maintaina careful sanity. The blatant light rejectsany transfusion of darkness. By adjusting the mirrors...
Rachel Mann
England, Ice Fixed, White with Rage From a train, always train, acres of whiteness, and I watchPast or future, fields of time, seen/unseen, fields of it, the presentRefuses, I only want it more, and gods of modest means,Not first rankers, not famous ones with...
Philip Gross
Small Rain, the Sound of Breathing The way a little too much cautioncreaks the floorboards more than clumsiness –so the rain, tonight, small spatters, all around the house… The way I ease the body-weightof last night’s sleep to the edge of the bed…Its cartilages...
Philip Dunkerley
The Repair Shop Give me, please, this evening hourof rest, let me sit safely herewatching the show, alone, at home,in the quiet of this room,others busy, nearby, elsewhere,as another day ends. I have chosen this programmefrom all those that tell of the past,carefully...
Paula Sankelo
We Learned That Everything Drifts Green and Purple in the Barents Sea almost everything: R/V Lance wasgrounded deep on an unlucky reef we heard Mayday and drove to assistancesleepless the entire sunlit night. Humming a shanty we wrote for the rescue– our captain...
Tytti Heikkinen
Big Morning in Rome In the hot magenta of a dark alley,a photoallergic inamorato sees the lady of his lifeand wants nothing more.He rushes through porticos and tourist crowdswho wave positive cardio imagesin the chiaroscuro of endless fog. The lady waits on the...
Martyn Crucefix
Salisbury (short let) In the year of the election, in early June,the third year of the war, the four of uswoken – we thought – by the whinnyingof horses; architecture with a sense of irony:we discover the best (least obstructed)view of the famous cathedral is fromthe...
Steve Denehan
A Poem from My Mother to My Father The way you standcrooked, stoopedin doorwaysunsure of where, why, what the way you asked mejust last weekif we knew each other the way I have to dress youwash youtell youthe time, the day, the season the way you look at melast...
Elisabeth Murawski
To Grieve Like Kollwitz That night in mid-January,I prayed to the Godof waiting rooms, swimming for my life,and yours.I can still summon that fear,waking before dawnwith tears and cries for help,a litanyof the impoverished. The silencesurrounded uslike an absence I...
Mike Everley
Soul Music3 – Swallows My uncle and I flew paper swallows from the high bedroom window. They caught the lifting wind, drifted above the narrow road and pointed metal railings that had somehow escaped the Spitfire Fund, into the small park with its swings, roundabout...
Emma Simon
Lullaby I want a slow horse. Those heavy-hoofed kindsthat used to drag a plough across a fieldor haul the beer drays through the town. I’d sit up high, proud as an empresswith reins in hand, an easy sway of hipsrollicking like hills from side-to-side. We’d walk the...
Jodi Cadenhead
The Best is Yet to Come Everyone agreed it was the polar caps,that went first, followed bythe Colorado River and the birds – pretty much, all of them,not to mention the pandas, the monarch butterfliesand the green sea turtles. But what really got our attention,were...
Sam Cassels
Anvils I have this dreamof anvils droppingfrom a quiet sky. A scene in a B-moviefrom the Cold War erain glorious black and white. A heavenly protestfrom the gods of waras they lay down their tools. A Dali paintingof shadows fallingon the face of the earth. Or just a...
Jennifer Johnson
Satisfaction Sometimes, it is the common things that give satisfaction,such as chopping onions, peppers and tomatoesdespite me rarely enjoying cooking apart from the result,sharing food with the one who brings some real point to life,one who lifts me above the...

