Poem of the day

The Ex-Poet writes HTML

by Sheenagh Pugh

He types "go here"; encloses it

in an anchor ref. Now, if you click

on the words,


the thing will happen. He writes code

to make words dance, change colour,

come alive.


He can make them shape the image

of his new book cover,

with secret text


embedded; when the cursor rests,

adventure leaps out.

And he can't believe


the power, the way words move,

at last, as he wants,

the way they turn


into sounds and patterns, the way

they send his readers

on the journey


he chose for them. He spends

whole days online, can't sleep

for thinking up


page after page, hooked

on creation, and he hasn't written

a poem in months.


13 June


by Mimi Khalvati

Mimi Khalvati

Image Credit: 
Caroline Forbes
12 June

'I heard a Fly buzz'

by Emily Dickinson

11 June

'Fledgling sparrows!'

by Paul Peter Piech

10 June


by Elaine Feinstein

This is the landscape of the Cambrian age:

       shale, blue quartz, planes of slate streaked with

iron and lead; soapstone, spars of calcite;

       in these pools, fish are the colour of sand,

velvet crabs like weeds, prawns transparent as water.


This shore was here before man. Every tide

       the sea returns, and floats the bladderwrack.

The flower animals swell and close over creatures

       rolled-in, nerveless, sea-food, fixed and forgotten.


My two thin boys balance on Elvan stone

       bent-backed, intent, crouched with their string and pins,

their wet feet white, lips salt, and skin wind-brown,

       watching with curiosity and compassion:

further out, Time and Chance are waiting to happen.

9 June

The Golden Deer

by Srinjay Chakravarti

Could you ever imagine

a country as beautiful,

a wilderness lovelier than this?

In its soil are the roots

of a forest, Dandakaranya -

dream-green, dream-dark.

Its silence braided by the music

in the silver-blond plaits

of virgin waterfalls.


There a demon from Serendip,

disguised as a golden stag

darts in and out

of the corners of your eyes.

A fleeting flash of glitter,

which steals away

what desire cannot attain.


Elusive as the wind,

fleeing with the sunshine

it leads you away from yourself,

the more you chase it

through foliage and undergrowth.


It is still said

that if you see the golden deer

even once,

you are condemned to seek it

for the rest of your life

and never find it,

though you may catch

glimpses of it, now and then.

A fleeting flash of glitter,

antlers of gold

that snare the sun.


8 June

Sea Love

by Charlotte Mew