Poem of the Week 61


Adrienne Rich


Living in the earth-depositis of our history


Today a backhoe divulged out of a crumbling flank of earth

one bottle amber perfect a hundred-year-old

cure for fever or melancholy a tonic

for living on this earth in the winters of this climate


Today I was reading about Marie Curie:

she must have known she suffered from radiation sickness

her body bombarded for years by the element

she had purified

It seems she denied to the end

the source of the cataracts on her eyes

the cracked and suppurating skin of her finger-ends

till she could no longer hold a test-tube or a pencil


She died a famous woman denying

her wounds


her wounds came from the same source as her power


Poem of the Week 60

I Like Words

Steve Turner


I like words.

Do you like words?

Words aren’t hard to find:

Words on walls and words in books,

Words deep in your mind.


Words in jokes

That make you laugh,

Words that seem to smell.

Words that end up inside out,

Words you cannot spell.


Words that fly

And words that crawl,

Words that screech and bump.

Words that glide and words that swing,

Words that bounce and jump.


Words that paint

And words that draw,

Words that make you grin.

Words that make you shake and sweat,

Words that touch your skin.


Words of love

That keep you warm,

Words that make you glad.

Words that hit you, words that hurt,

Words that make you sad.


Words in French

And words in slang,

Words like ‘guy’ and ‘dude’.

Words you make up, words you steal,

Words they say are rude.


I like words.

Do you like words?

Words come out and play.

Words are free and words are friends,

Words are great to say.


Poem of the Week 59



Jean Kenward



Look very lightly

look that way –

I saw a dragon there



His ears were open,

his eyes were shut,

his scales were as hard

as a coconut.


His body was thick,

his tail was strong,

it stretched round the railings

ten feet long …


His snores were thunderous,

dark and deep.

He breathed like an engine

in his sleep.


Look through your lashes

faint and small …

Can you see anyone

there at all,


Down by the railings,


I saw a dragon there



Poem of the Week 58



Philip Larkin



What are days for?

Days are where we live.

They come, they wake us

Time and time over.

They are to be happy in:

Where can we live but days?


Ah, solving that question

Brings the priest and the doctor

In their long coats

Running over the fields.