If you Hear it Thunder don't run Under a Tree It was the sound: those fat gold drops that fell from heaven. Pennies, she said, but though her voice was quiet, the brass held dreams of benjamins, bold shopping sprees, silk shirts, mink coats slim fingers stacked with diamonds. You had to go through showers … Continue reading ‘If you Hear it Thunder don’t run Under a Tree’ by Seraphima Kennedy
Tag: New Poem
‘Laminations I’ by Mark Fiddes
Laminations I Amid the crashing, you missed next door's soul shooting free of rubble deflected off the skip with a clunking blue flash towards Croydon. Perhaps it meant to go elsewhere. They stack salvaged bricks in wobbly columns out back like a garden in Pompei. A pyre gyres plastic black cremating many decades of botchery … Continue reading ‘Laminations I’ by Mark Fiddes
‘Pineapple as a metaphor for life’ by Ben Banyard
Pineapple as a metaphor for life Yes, it’s still sitting on the window ledge Gruff, rough, browning leaves. The Best Before Date was last Thursday. It knows it’s a project, not a quick job like cutting your fingernails; this requires commitment, concentration. While intact the pineapple mocks me: we’re locked in a game of chicken … Continue reading ‘Pineapple as a metaphor for life’ by Ben Banyard
‘Full Circle’ by Santino Prinzi
Full Circle I stood and looked through the glass kitchen door panels into the living room, where our cat laid on its side. Vomit and faeces stained the grey carpet, and I cried. My brother cried too, and he was five, so my mother lied and said he’s sleeping. My mother scooped our cat into … Continue reading ‘Full Circle’ by Santino Prinzi
‘Julep’ by Alex Bell
Julep Today it is too hot to touch a person. Things prickle. The grass is the fur of a warm-blooded animal. We walk into a bar and order juleps. It is a drink we associate with spells, with corset-headaches. I then prescribed her an emetic, some opening powders, and a mint julep. A man is … Continue reading ‘Julep’ by Alex Bell
‘The Iron Children’ by Rachel Plummer
The Iron Children Along our street the iron children come, cast and wrought. The road rings like a struck cymbal below their clanging feet. For luck we clank our coins into their mouths, all dumb as metal, hear them rattle down and thrum the stainless engines deep inside each quick gullet. They flood the street … Continue reading ‘The Iron Children’ by Rachel Plummer
‘Willard Wigan’ by Mat Riches
Willard Wigan His miniature sculptures are like “passing a pin through a bubble without bursting it.” - Willard Wigan & “Ant-eye level art” - Maev Kennedy – Guardian 13.04.00 It can be like balancing an ocean liner on a granule of sugar. It’s like passing a pin through a bubble without bursting it. Well … Continue reading ‘Willard Wigan’ by Mat Riches
‘Initiation’ by Niall Firth
Initiation It’s 5pm and now, yes, the light is just right to catch the hubcaps, a shivery ginger glow spreading across the stubble to strike our Fiat at a lover's angle, like it did the Passat before it, the Saab from ‘98, right back to that Capri, sitting rakish, when this field was mantis-green with … Continue reading ‘Initiation’ by Niall Firth
‘Ogre’s Burrito’ by Jane Burn
Ogre's Burrito Parcelled in linen, a crack of smudged eye opens. Under-sheet in a claustrophobe, arms pinned, I am an ogre’s burrito. A salt-sweat salsa of the nights inappropriate dreaming stains me, soaks the bedding. Sour. I can smell myself – I feel basted, the musk of arousal as I split my welded legs apart. … Continue reading ‘Ogre’s Burrito’ by Jane Burn
‘silent summer’ by Robert Harper
silent summer the door slams shut / she’s gone at last / at last she’s gone / to school & / summer’s done // summer is done // and silence falls / it falls on the silence / that was there before // before she went / before she’d sit / alone she’d sit // … Continue reading ‘silent summer’ by Robert Harper
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