Monthly Archives: January 2018
Andrew Hunter
A957, The Slug Road What apart from pylons does This broad November field contain? A puddle of flooding at the corner? Isolated weeds, standing better than Dead appearing horses in jackets, Hung like ungame meat on the cusp of the … Continue reading
Gordon Gibson
Snail in April This spring will not advance. Bruised clouds darken over Arran, Monotonous raindrops scatter in still air. I stare into the garden noticing nothing Except, on the washed surface of a grey flagstone, A small coil, motionless, Monochrome … Continue reading
Julie Sampson
Tonight raging thoughts unable to sleep I realise that like a red rag to the bull, for the poet beginning to write winter’s last poem on the white page, when snow no longer arrives, there is longing – empty the … Continue reading
Tony Mott
Climbing Deliberately he climbs twisted thread in hand, underneath his narrow frame the warm water breathes warnings of free fall arrests, amongst tentative overhangs and twisted limbs he stills himself. Lost in instruction he climbs until the air thins and … Continue reading
Petra Vergunst: Two poems
Pool of Blackness Under the arching stones the river ushers harmonies hedged by banks bedded with larch litter from a bronze tree a charm of cawing jackdaws soars In this bridge the river nurtures the pool of blackness held in … Continue reading
Andy Thornton: Two poems
Not Good Today The child is grumpy, squirming between sleep and tears. Her rest under the moon broken and now day is here. She slides off a knee, standing legs braced, scowling out at the world defying it to bring … Continue reading
John McIntosh
The Rope A saucer of milk for the holiday cat; we all know how that ends. Just so, he sits, polite and deferential, mildly gazing round to spin his sorry tale in that croaky, eloquent miaow. Oh, he knows how … Continue reading
The Open Mouse 