Seedlings still grow You can still feel the breeze The fields are ploughed And the sun is still rising Breakfast …
Daily extraordinary: five haiku by Faye Brinsmead
Rush hour cancelled only a learner driver tense white face Attention span shrinks seventeen syllables Abandoned offices more and more …
Corona – The Thief of Ritual. A poem by Maria O’Rourke
1 Stealthily, it crept up on us. At first, far away and disconnected, another continent, distant, like a man on …
April. A poem by Deirdre Ní Fhloinn
A flying code in a cell made the world turn sideways and we all began to fall. I reached for …
The Viral Equinox. A poem by Eilín de Paor
We skipped spring that year – clinging to wool fleece and chunky knits as long as we could, cotton jersey …