by Nick Stone | Apr 10, 2024 | In the magazine, Poems in The Rialto
It seemed like a good day to write about this. MISREADING THE DREAM OF THE ROOD – SHEFFIELD, 1 A.M. Bearn: born in a barn, a bairn, a cry in the night, an almost inaudible moan on the wind. Leaking like methane escaping from landfill. There’s always a child...
by Guest Blogger | Aug 30, 2022 | Poems in The Rialto
A radio show I sometimes tune into has a long-running feature where listeners write in about objects that have fallen on them from out of the sky – a slice of white bread, an unopened Mars Bar, jar lids and bottle caps, once (or did I imagine it?) a lady’s watch....
by Michael Mackmin | Aug 28, 2018 | Poems in The Rialto
Here is one of my favourite poems from the current issue (No. 90), of the magazine. CATFORD CYCLING CLUB RACE THROUGH ASHDOWN FOREST The normal fawn-coloured morning is scored through with a fast-moving artery of red the jerseys of young bearded men on a...
by Rishi Dastidar | Dec 15, 2017 | In the magazine, Poems in The Rialto
Shoot up in the fast lift, poke the faux gras with toothpick heels. Late lunch at the Coq d’Argent – accept a drink, plan your exit. After two pm the old religion can be smelt – some urban plague myth – even here, halfway to the holding stacks of City-bound planes....
by Rishi Dastidar | Jul 4, 2017 | Poems in The Rialto
Decompression The induction program’s willow pattern eyes and terracotta lips matched those of the woman I married in my first incarnation. She whispered, Just you and me darling me darling – a glitch, surely, A stutter in the software – so make yourself yourself. She...
by Fiona | Mar 23, 2017 | Poems in The Rialto
HOW TO BAKE A GINGERBREAD GIRL by Emma Simon Paint blue icing on her fingertips, fingers that could snap with cold, dipped into fridges and glass chillers placing cockleshell cakes in pretty rows. Tie back her hair, dress her in sexless tabards, dab with jam. Press...
by Degna | Mar 10, 2017 | Poems in The Rialto
HOME by Neetha Kunaratnam June 23, 2016 I Go Home. We voted leave… Her indignant jaw trembled as she seethed, and the deadpan response I might have mustered froze on my lips, as she brandished a crumpled flyer and unleashed its litany of stats. I’m going I said and...
by Guest Blogger | Feb 8, 2017 | Poems in The Rialto
[See end of post for image credit] To David Foster Wallace by Ben Wilkinson Since I was old enough to know myself I’ve been trying to figure it out – the constant gnawing sense of having had and lost some infinite thing, like half the time I’d chuck it all in; throw...
by Fiona | Dec 6, 2016 | Poems in The Rialto
DRAGGED UNDER by Ian Humphreys So many wet shaves in a lifetime. How many thousands and thousands? So many ………….rituals at dawn’s bleached-bone altar, a falter of sharpened steel on skin. So much water feel it slide...
by Michael Mackmin | Sep 16, 2016 | Poems in The Rialto
A WITNESS by Amy Carrington I’ve been watching the letterbox, I’ve been watching her at the letterbox. Her arm is stuck in the rectangle, but not stuck getting out she can’t seem to get it any farther in. A gloss-eyed pot fox peers through the...
by Guest Blogger | Sep 1, 2016 | Poems in The Rialto
FIGHT SONG by Paula Bohince August 2014 A crisis on a monitor, and there’s this football field, white chalk formalizing grass, a spongy black track where I walk off my no-baby weight. A deadline has passed, so a journalist will leave this world violently as I go...
by Fiona | Jul 27, 2016 | Poems in The Rialto
Tristia by Jacqueline Saphra My friend, we’ve been anchored here for years arguing the toss: semi-colon versus the long dash, our views on Ovid’s Tristia though I haven’t read it, nor have you – and as the room rocks gently underneath us you pour for me a rare...
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