1. Articles
  2. Poetry
  3. (Page 15)

Dread

Poetry
  Somehow the present is never enough, the scoured sky, the green tree of now translucent with seeing. Instead the…

Beyond the Hurt

Poetry
  Beyond the hurt lies the hurt Of a belief that lies shattered; A trust and a judgement exposed To…

The Stags

Poetry
  Waiting in the railway station – youngsters laughing, train controllers ushering passengers to their trains while I waited for…

Poem of the Late Tang

Poetry
  In Wat Phanan Choeng, beneath the eighty-foot gold Buddha thronged with prostrate devotees, I’m distracted by a faint tang…

Halloween

Poetry
  We are coming into that time when things are not fully themselves – sky improperly dresses in glint and…

Two Poems

Poetry
We Gaze Together into This I’d like to say ‘distorting’ mirror but it’s simply what it is: as darkly lucid…

Boaz Asleep

Poetry
  Translated by Len Krisak Bone-weary from his labour, Boaz slept; The threshing floor was where he’d worked all day.…

Two Poems

Poetry
Word-Salad Sal From The Shadow Thorns sequence Sally, or Sal (she prefers just one ‘l’), Tosses her salads of words…

Begging

Poetry
  She comes into our lives to beg, at dawn boarding the third class train to Luxor, blind singer with…

Napkin Swans

Poetry
  I wanted to know where the napkin swans came from. Perched on the tables, waiting to be unfurled. So…

Two Poems

Poetry
The Café Newspaper-readers outside at the sunny café: a becalmed regatta. Tall, indolent palm trees topped with shuttlecock feathers. Breast-pocket…

Garvagh Election

Poetry
  When the evenings clear everything looks dirty again like a dead blackbird picked clean ploughed into the lane the…

Time Travellers

Poetry
  The sick are well, dead smiling, old are young, framed photos bloom on windowsills and walls, I am a…

Lilies

Poetry
  His tongue between her lips, she is suffocated by his breathing. Flocks of umbrellas snap shut in her as…

Severe Sweetness

Poetry
  (St. Theresa of Avila, Bernini) The woman is not perfected, she moans. She has travelled so far her body…

Blade of Bread

Poetry
  Nothing goes inside this tank, It’s called a bank. Not even the pay Which used to flow Like the…

Time and Tide

Poetry
  He asks his carer Where did last Thursday go? She answers Time’s peculiar as she empties water from the…

Bare

Poetry
  Smoking, she stutters, ‘I wish I’d never been born. I’m too soon in this world, not of this time.’…

Moth

Poetry
  For my father, 03.08.01 A moth ticking, persistent. The fluorescent tube hot, long, white overhead, my head bent till…
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