The light through the blind is a poem,

the way it illuminates air.

And the shadows that fall

on the floor and the wall

are signs that a poem is there.

 

The playground is built on top of a graveyard.

Press your ear to the tarmac and you'll hear the undead

scratching on their coffin lids.

 

His name is called and there's a pause

just long enough to halt a war

tame timber wolves and trim their claws

hide diamonds in a secret drawer

Sue Hardy-Dawson - National Poetry Day 2018

Each night I pull threads of birds

shake them loose; unpick the skies

 

dappled husks of thrush and wren

mulberry silk from blackbird eyes

 

Ruth Awolola - National Poetry Day 2018

There’s something of the rich tea biscuits dipped

     in a sugary brew,

From the inside it warms you up.

Something of the feeling ever so welcome

Karl Nova - National Poetry Day

Change was specially written for National Poetry Day 2018 

 

Change is always happening

It’s a fact my friend, it’s like fads and trends

Moonrise

Nell drives and we don’t speak.

 

Every limb is numb

or aching.

 

My mind is racing

Moonrise

Time travel me back.

Let me say goodbye again.

A minute more,

           a moment,

a chance to see Ed’s face

Moonrise

Time travel me back.

Let me say goodbye again.

A minute more,

           a moment,

a chance to see Ed’s face

Moonrise

Kids in camouflage sprint and stumble through smoke,

their faces smeared with blood and dirt.

It’s a burnt-out city with kids tearing into enemy lines,

no weapons,

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