'Carousel', a new poem by Tracy Ryan

Tracy Ryan
Wednesday, 26 June 2013

Because in a foreign city even at eight
he needs the familiar nearby, to hitch
the gaze like the reins of that lacquered
horse to a fixed spot, in order to let loose,

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'The Tick', a new poem by Lynette Field

Lynette Field
Monday, 27 May 2013

Under the bathroom light I examine every particle of you.
A taxonomist with a specimen, I trail through
the topography of your naked back, classifying
whorls and curlicues. These signs lie beneath our daily clothing

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'30.11.12', a new poem by Ken Bolton

Ken Bolton
Monday, 27 May 2013

What am I going to write here?
Something, I hope. A year
or so since I last launched out

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Years ago when John Forbes praised
my later work, he said my Problem
of Evil was influenced by Tranter’s
Red Movie, and being younger and furiouser,
I rang Forbes and explained P. of E.

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'P.R.B.', a new poem by Cassandra Atherton

Cassandra Atherton
Sunday, 28 April 2013

I wish I had been painted by Millais. Maybe not as Ophelia in a tepid bath.
Perhaps as Lady Macbeth. Or Titania. Or Portia. Not Brutus’s Portia. Portia from
The Merchant of Venice. I used to make you sit on a little wooden stool and pretend
you were painting me. Stroke after stroke rasping against the canvas. I would

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'The Consonants', a new poem by John Tranter

John Tranter
Sunday, 28 April 2013

B, brave brown, C, icicle
pendant, D, dun though pale,
F for faint mauve, fish and bicycle,
G, gothic paint in a green pail

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'Reflections on "Charon"', a new poem by Fay Zwicky

Fay Zwicky
Saturday, 27 April 2013

Twelve noon Monday, 38 degrees and rising.
The phone’s rung twice
and someone else has fallen off
the twig while military files of micro-

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'Diary Poem: Uses of Cosiness', a new poem by Jennifer Maiden

Jennifer Maiden
Tuesday, 26 March 2013

Emboldened by sharing, briefly, the same
publisher as Frieda Hughes, I looked up
an article on her latest collection, found
a photo of her living room, which seemed

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Camperdown’s for dogs,
Friday evening in the park off Church Street

a barefoot man
carries a plank:

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'Early to Bed', a new poem by Clive James

Clive James
Monday, 25 March 2013
Old age is not my problem. Bad health, yes.
If I were well again, I’d walk for miles,
My name a synonym for tirelessness.
On Friday nights I’d go out on the tiles:
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