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The Friday Poem

The Friday Poem

A poem every Friday

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The Friday Poem archive

Black text on white reads: 'Art on the Walls by Nicholas McGaughey' with a quarter of a small yellow Friday Poem blob in the top right hand corner.

Art on the Walls

by Nicholas McGaughey — At some point someone was moved to / put on canvas something that moved / them towards the easel. These reveries / colour and haunt our walls: some bought, / most bequeathed by the discerning dead / who thought

Continue readingArt on the Walls
Black text on white reads 'Domestic Economy Reader for Irish Schools by John Mee' with a big yellow Friday Poem blob over the right hand side of the page.

Domestic Economy Reader for Irish Schools

by John Mee — THE FIRST SCHOOL OF CHARACTER / The most delightful task that can be undertaken by a girl / is to make the home happy. A shovel may be heated red hot / and held over the pie dish. Why not use heather

Continue readingDomestic Economy Reader for Irish Schools

 Imagining Sow

by Roger Elkin — Imagine her grin’s wicked innocence — / the sly-eyed tightness of her gaze / glazing over in her blear of peering, /her almost show of not knowing // Imagine her wet ferreting-out snout / nuzzling through earth-dust, her maunching at slops

Continue reading Imagining Sow
Black text on white reads: 'The Laugh by Christopher Arksey' with the bottom third of a medium sized yellow Friday Poem blob at the top middle edge

The Laugh

by Christopher Arksey — It was like you’d surfaced after a spell / underwater; spent and roused at the same time, / breathless toward the inevitable / big-reveal of your long-delayed punchline. // Then you let fly — the laugh of someone twice

Continue readingThe Laugh

Quellenstraße, 1100

by Kathryn Gray — February—and I was young. / Spring Street! My blue bag was swinging // in uncommon warmth, even the shadowed / shapes of pavement under awnings // seemed ripe with a peculiar kindness / and promise. The snows, at last

Continue readingQuellenstraße, 1100
Black text on white reads: 'Old Woman Ravine by Jennifer Copley' with a quarter of a small yellow Friday Poem blob just visible in the bottom right hand corner.

Old Woman Ravine

by Jennifer Copley — No one knows where it is. / Maybe behind the sloping granite stones / of Carlingill or in the dip / between Hobdale and the sea? // The old woman who lives there / has been heard cursing anyone who seeks her or her place

Continue readingOld Woman Ravine
Black text on white reads: "Double first, 1957 by Beatrice Garland" with a small Friday Poem yellow blob over the 1957

Double first, 1957

by Beatrice Garland — Judy in rose chiffon balancing / on four inch heels like blades / makes a late entrance / to the Dean's sherry party / for the First Years in the College library — / and everyone stops talking. // The MG she arrived in can be heard 

Continue readingDouble first, 1957
Black text on white reads: 'Forester by Vera Lynch' with a medium-sized yellow Froday Poem blob over the 'este' of 'Forester' and the word 'Vera'

Forester

by Vera Lynch — The local news adored it / A female forester! / Our very own lumberJill! / I smiled patiently // Laughed along / Answered their questions / I've always loved being outdoors (true) / I've always enjoyed working with men (false)

Continue readingForester

Tulipa Ingens

by Oliver Comins — Once again, the tulips have been immense this year, / having the appearance of beanstalks when viewed / through the ground floor windows. From our loft, / on the second floor, you could reach out and touch / their sail-like petals

Continue readingTulipa Ingens
Black text on white reads: from 'Testimonies (Scotland 1623 - 1930)' by Hamish Whyte

from Testimonies (Scotland 1623 – 1930)

by Hamish Whyte — PAISLEY, 1684 // Margaret Whythill, spouse to James Love, / said she saw James Algie, a merchant, bring his wife / to the close mouth and throw her down / in the strand and saw her rise again

Continue readingfrom Testimonies (Scotland 1623 – 1930)

Wet for Literature

by Devon Webb — I used to go out of my way to get laid / but now I’m lying here on a man’s bed / thirsting for the third instalment in the Magicians trilogy by Lev Grossman / you know like I’m not even that fussed about sex anymore I just wanna read

Continue readingWet for Literature
Black text on white reads: 'Visiting David Hockney by Michael Di Placido' with a small Friday Poem yellow blob over the top half of the 'it' 'in ‘visiting.

Visiting David Hockney

by Michael Di Placido — He looks up and half smiles / as I drift in and settle on a chair — / as though I was expected: / “The studio would have to be a riot / of colour with you in it”, I say. / And when I tell him I live near Brid — / not far from his mum's

Continue readingVisiting David Hockney
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