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Tag: New poetry

Three poems by Carolyn Jess-Cooke

July 12, 2016July 12, 2016 ~ And Other Poems

The House of Rest A History of Josephine Butler, feminist and social reformer, 1828-1906 Eva Then you were here real as a wound. They placed you in my arms with such care I thought you a parcel of feathers that might fly away. I stroked your face – Your eyes were midnight blue. Time bended … Continue reading Three poems by Carolyn Jess-Cooke

‘Gilgamesh at the Edge of the World’ by Jenny Lewis

June 14, 2016June 14, 2016 ~ And Other Poems

Canto Ten: Gilgamesh at the Edge of the World* Crazed with grief after the death of his friend, Enkidu, Gilgamesh wanders in the wilderness until he reaches the Edge of the World where he comes across a tavern kept by the demi-goddess, Siduri. Shrouded in hoods and veils she lived alone At the sea’s edge, … Continue reading ‘Gilgamesh at the Edge of the World’ by Jenny Lewis

Two poems by Maria Taylor

May 24, 2016May 24, 2016 ~ Rish

The Landfills of Heaven are clean as icebergs. There are Everests of wedding rings and silver bedsteads that sing like tuning forks. There are green, translucent hills made of empty champagne bottles and crystal flutes waiting for the blue lips of ghosts. There’s a hum marking the perimeter, the low, sustained notes of cello strings, … Continue reading Two poems by Maria Taylor

Two poems by Wendy Klein

April 19, 2016 ~ And Other Poems

Two poems from Mood Indigo Doxology This shot’s in washed out sepia: my father, a choir boy, about to leave his childhood behind, Glory be to the father and to the son, and to the Holy Ghost. His hair, already recalcitrant, holds a crooked centre parting with the help of Brylcreem (a little dab’ll do … Continue reading Two poems by Wendy Klein

Two poems by Cheryl Moskowitz

April 12, 2016 ~ And Other Poems

Nachteule She hasn’t seen you yet but she knows you are there – legend and the lady in the kitchen told her so. Besides, she heard you hooting on the first night razor sharp in the dark despite the muffle of sleep and possible dying. It’s a call she recognises like a mother who knows … Continue reading Two poems by Cheryl Moskowitz

Two poems by John McCullough

April 8, 2016 ~ And Other Poems

Two poems from Spacecraft, Penned in the Margins, May 2016   I’ve Carried a Door On My Back for Ten Years You lugged it from the builder’s yard. Now it’s my turn to know its stiff weight, the slow chafe of pine against vertebrae: a decade-long kiss, flush with splinters. I closed it when I … Continue reading Two poems by John McCullough

Two poems by Olivia Dawson

March 11, 2016 ~ And Other Poems

Legacy He leaves a threadbare rug laid out for me like an invitation. Cold stubble under my toes I feel the patterns mapped out by his feet and step into them like snowshoes to carry me over the deepest drifts.   (Commended in Second Light’s Poetry Competition 2013 and published in ARTEMISpoetry November 2013)   … Continue reading Two poems by Olivia Dawson

Two poems by Ken Evans

February 26, 2016February 26, 2016 ~ And Other Poems

In Zero Gravity If ever you are sucked out into space by an ill-judged partnership, a scheming co-worker, the belligerent family member, you’ll know what love spurned feels like: your eyes bulge but cannot shed tears, out beyond the troposphere. The moisture on your tongue boils, blood does not flow. You lose what’s down or … Continue reading Two poems by Ken Evans

‘Ship’s Desk’ by Sarah Sibley

February 19, 2016February 19, 2016 ~ And Other Poems

Ship’s Desk I could have been flung overboard with smoke floats, not detained at port without explanation. I imagine the bottom of the ocean, the torment of tentacles tugging on my nestled drawers while plankton swish through keyholes. On solid ground, there’s not the comforting creak of the ship’s bowels but they found me a … Continue reading ‘Ship’s Desk’ by Sarah Sibley

Two poems by Louisa Adjoa Parker

February 16, 2016 ~ And Other Poems

Yellow Sheets Afterwards, I swaddle you in plastic sheets; yellow and crumpled as an old raincoat, they will protect you from the rain. Today is the first and last day. I will not look at your face, tiny and still-pink, I know it will accuse me. But I see your little fingers, cold and stiff … Continue reading Two poems by Louisa Adjoa Parker

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