Poem of the day

Art Censorship

by Robert Richardson

11 July

The Companion

by Katrina Naomi

How many summers is it together,

with your vents and doors open;

how many springs,

full of self-important shoots;

how many autumns,

dusty and home to spiders;

and how many winters,

shut, inward looking

at not very much?


Your pungence, creativity

and openness draw her in.

You’re completely transparent –

or so it seems.


Do you long for your great aunts

at Kew, Edinburgh and Belfast,

full of spectacle, colour, sprinklers?

Do you long for a white staircase?


You’re tended by just the one gardener.

The same pair of brown mottled hands,

pummelling rich black spongey earth into plastic pots;

labels, lovingly written in blue pencil;

sprigs of green firmly pushed into place.


The trains rattle at your windows,

a mini earthquake, but one you can count on.


No need for a welcome mat,

the grass is worn

a polished carpet to your door.


And here she comes,

looking briefly to the gulls,

stepping inside. For a moment,

the sun highlights her silver hairs

caught at the top right of your frame,

as she searches for the hard green gloves.


10 July

A Tune for Dave Smith

by Maura Dooley

9 July

Crimson dragonfly

by Paul Peter Piech

8 July


by Mary Kuper

Image Credit: 
7 July

Old House, New Home

by Carrie Etter

Following by eye the dark beams 

as they rise and meet, rise and meet, 

learning these new rooms’ shades 

of natural and artificial light, 

I smell rain on stone, in the view 

of a sky of stone, storey upon storey 

of weavers’ apartments, long derelict.


Five years in a foreign country – 

the ghosts are not my ghosts. 

This morning I hummed a childhood tune, 

this afternoon I rummage for the words.


Tonight clouds will obscure the stars, 

forsake me in unnavigable water. 

What’s to do but drop anchor; wait 

and wake to the smell of rain, the view 

of a sky of stone; hum an old tune 

and wait, humming, for words –


6 July

from 'Love is Like a Dizziness'

by James Hogg