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

Doreen Hinchliffe

Doreen Hinchliffe

A Patch Of Sunlight Speaks

Breathing the dust of centuries, I spread
myself beneath your beam that slants above,
its shaft across my face. Alone, I’m dead,
my whole existence turns upon your love.
Darkened by shadows, troubled by the sound
of trampling feet, I long to fly to you,
rise up; but you’re of heaven, I the ground,
and even though you give me wings, renew
my trust in you with every touch, I fear
that I’m a mere reflection of your heat,
your side effect. Am I not really here?
Can creature and creator never meet?
My dreams are light as air and vast as space,
yet transient as the gold of your embrace.

John Tanner

John Tanner

Losing a Language

Death-rattle
on the pebbles.

This is a tide that won’t return.

The waves’ eloquence
breaking, leaving only
a scattering of shallow pools
that shrink towards oblivion.

Take this dry
pebble in your hand.
Remember how the lips of the sea
could make it precious.

More Guest Poems

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...

David Sergeant

A Winter Morning Poor naked wretches, wheresoe’er you are,That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm! (Lear) My heart forgets …(Burns, ‘A Winter Night’) The globe has got its change on and frostthe artificer has strolledmadly through the world with a...

Marjory Woodfield

She Sews the Starsafter a quilt by Harriet Powers Harriet takes strips of calico,old dungarees. Stitches storiesto warm her children. Job prays for his enemies. Moses lifts up the serpentin the wilderness. A dark day in May. The stars fall.In the Garden of Eden, God’s...

Caroline Price

The Seducer’s Hat Like a skydiver about to plunge for the first timefrom the opened plane into breathlessness I stand pressed to the last strip of blackbefore sunlight, gazing across eight feet of blazing tarmac – it takes such courage, this tackling head-onof the...