Saturday, 31 January 2009

bulldozer induced
ripples on the pond -
heron takes flight


Corey Cook
Corey Cook

Friday, 30 January 2009

Moon River

He nicknamed
his liver Bukowski.
It died the next day.


Christian Ward

Thursday, 29 January 2009

Wednesday, 28 January 2009

Falling asleep
in the arms of a fever.


Stephen Jarrell Williams

Tuesday, 27 January 2009

(follow a handful of stones on Twitter)

If you know what Twitter is, sign up to get a handful of stones here (or my small stones here). If you haven't the foggiest what I'm on about, visit my post explaining the whole thing at Planting Words.
The bare trees are quiet: no birds at all. Except for one tall elm and two big rockdoves sitting at the top, back-to-back. Big birds but still, watching winter coming in.


Matthew Friday
Matthew Friday

Monday, 26 January 2009

Sunday, 25 January 2009

I remember this: walking down a night in what we hear as silence. Only the tread of gravel, the dark's notes of owl and leaf.


Jo Hemmant

Saturday, 24 January 2009

Friday, 23 January 2009

There are many Grey Chair people
who do nothing except
let other people sit on them.


Notes from a Glaswegian Immaturity

Thursday, 22 January 2009

Wednesday, 21 January 2009

garter snake’s shed skin –
long striped sock
put through the wash
of the sea


Susan Richardson
Susan's Journal of Literary Things

Tuesday, 20 January 2009

I can't write

I'm so tired
and I have
this great


ache in my head.


Jeff Fleming
nibble - a poetry magazine

Monday, 19 January 2009

I look at myself in the bathroom mirror and my mother’s tired eyes look back.


Writing Home

Sunday, 18 January 2009

Border country

Dark thumbs the edges of evening
and the huddled houses sulk in each other’s lights.
Rain chokes the distant road.


Claire Askew
Read This Magazine

Saturday, 17 January 2009

i wake up
to find the night
pressing down
on my skin,
time ticks by
like a needle
at the end
of a record
when there's
no one left
in the room


amanda oaks
verve bath press

Friday, 16 January 2009

rotting leaves beckon
she wiggles onto her back--
contented canine


G.R. LeBlanc
Reflective Ink
A dead sparrow—

                sad for

                except the


Hosho McCreesh
Hosho McCreesh

Thursday, 15 January 2009

this cold winter day,
the gnarled old apple tree
promises blossoms


four winds haiga

Wednesday, 14 January 2009

Tuesday, 13 January 2009

Caught in headlights a hedgehog rushes across the road, her skinny legs exposed below her hitched up spiky skirt, running through the rain.


Lorna Senior

Monday, 12 January 2009

clouds are discarded cleansing pads of a self-conscious adolescent troubled by his plouks


Gordon Mason
Catapult To Mars

(Plouk is a Scottish word for pimple - PLOUK, n.1, v.1 Also plouck, plook, pluk(e), pleuk, pluik, pluck; ploog (Cai. 1903 E.D.D.), plug; peuk. [pluk] I. n. 1. A pustule, pimple (n. and s.Sc. 1808 Jam., pluke, plouk; Sh. 1908 Jak. (1928), 1914 Angus Gl., pluk; Fif., Lth. 1926 Wilson Cent. Scot. 259; Rxb. 1942 Zai). Gen.Sc. and in n.Eng. dial. Also fig. Hence plouky, plooky, plucky, adj., covered with pimples, spotty (Bwk. 1942 Wettstein). Gen.Sc.; plookiness, n., a pimply condition (Sc. 1825 Jam.). Combs. pluke-faced, pimply-faced; whisky plouk)

Sunday, 11 January 2009

A mockingbird scolds me from his hidden perch.


Barbara Hollace

Saturday, 10 January 2009

A Crow nods out a broken-throated ostinato
above the silver breath of high tide.


Annie Kerr
Ink haven

Friday, 9 January 2009

After Everest

Funny how small things
still scare her
like zits and Daddy
Long Legs.


William Soule
William Soule

Thursday, 8 January 2009

Wednesday, 7 January 2009

After rescue from certain death with the cats, the field mouse calmly washes itself in the safety of the mesh food cover.


John Loader

Tuesday, 6 January 2009

glimpsed from the street

my neighbour alone in her living room
the TV show I stopped watching


Richard Powell
Still in the Stream

Monday, 5 January 2009

Sunday, 4 January 2009


My laptop whirs on the desk; the lamplight blackens the trees outside


Julie Singleton
Julie Singleton

Saturday, 3 January 2009

pigeons on my verandah
I run out and beat a metal gong


Gabrielle Daly

Friday, 2 January 2009

a warm firm body pressed to my leg;
contentment in canine form


Liza Lee Miller
It's Just Me

Thursday, 1 January 2009

Reading with the
Indian-summer wind,
it turns back a few pages—

guess it wasn't
done yet.

Hosho McCreesh
Hosho McCreesh