Skip to main content

Submit Poetry

Submission Guidelines

  • Submissions are open to anyone in Suffolk, England, aged 16 or over
  • Poetry theme(s): (1) The Environment; (2) Positive Mental Health Recovery and Wellbeing; (3) Covid Reflections. Please indicate the theme(s) of your poem in your submission
  • Up to 52 lines in length
  • Do not use words, terms or phrases that are considered offensive, obscene, abusive, inappropriate or mention/infer self-harm
  • Submit by email, to artbranches@icloud.com either inserting your text within the email body or as an attachment
  • Indicate the name, initials, etc., to attribute as the author, or whether you wish to write anonymously
  • Submissions may be accompanied by an optional related image attached to your submission email.  Images must either be your own, have permission granted for you to use or be free-to-use commercially.  If required, a vast range of high quality, free-to-use images can be found at websites such as Unsplash, Pexels and Pixabay. If you do not wish to provide an associated image, the organiser may choose something appropriate or present the text without an image.

Notes & Further Information

The organiser, Art Branches CIC, is a not-for-profit community organisation specialising in inclusive creative projects for improving wellbeing in communities across the East of England.

Your name and email address will be used solely for the purpose of poetry collection and communication by the organiser and will not be shared with any other party.

By submitting your content (poetry and any associated image), you agree to the right of the organiser to publish it online and/or in hard copy form on a non-exclusive, royalty-free basis.  You still own the copyright on your content and are not transferring that to the organiser.

The organiser reserves the right to not publish a submission text and/or image or to remove a previously published submission.

For further information, contact us through the organiser's Contact page on the Art Branches website: https://artbranches.org/contact/

Currently Popular Poems:

From one frog to humans, or 'Go dig a Pond'

Burnt summer, Another hot summer Without a drop of water I wait It’s only June. With ochre hives And forgotten tones Of emerald green Parched fields and thorny hegderows. A dead speckled wood I’d rather eat fresh Is on the menu today, tomorrow unknown. A bleak summer ahead, Our long forgotten cousins Creep steathily unseen Waiting silently for clouds. A buttercup-yellow Marsh marigold forest Croaked from Floating reeds and choked crispy chickweed. Andrew Toms
View Poem »

Solitude of Pines

With a frail And uncertain future Breathing in rhythmical pines Calms my thoughts. Solitude I seek Within the forest Amorphous blankets of snow Covering crestfallen waves. Spirited wind Melancholy whispers A tear falls Past traumas relived. Ephemeral bird calls Wispy clouds and frost Revitalises lost energies I no longer feel lost.     Matthew  
View Poem »

Shaping the Landscape

  I am enclosed under a canopy of overhanging shade, where majestic trees rustle in dappled sunlight.  I am surrounded by shapes, by twisted fronds  of birds’ nest ferns and leaf spikes that  thrust sharply upwards against the light.   A spring bubbles through cushions  of moss. Dark green waters trail  water lilies; water boatmen  judder across the surface of the pond. Softness,  sharpness, textured and structured, mingle together,  cradling me in  the shelter of their arms.   Julia Duke  
View Poem »

Winter

As the words of yesterday and the events of last year, crunch crisply beneath my feet, Gone are the evening summers, the long walks and the talks, in the lazy, balmy heat. For now is a time of reflection, for even the trees and the grass; Recovery has seasons of respite, just like winter, the bad times will pass.     by Jess  
View Poem »

Abbey Stones

Laboured stones Rough stones Stones of dismay Honest stones Pocketed stones Hidden stones Fractured stones Unstable stones Foundation stones Clumsy stones Ancient stones Split stones Abbey stones Stephanie
View Poem »

Hidden Behind Plastic Shields and Masks

Hidden behind plastic shields and masks they smile at me but only with their eyes, there is love in each iris, lash and wrinkle wink. Who silently steps in the space between being neither here nor there? He watches her laboured breathing as tubes that had filled her lungs with life are now removed. I’ve breathed in and out without a thought for sixty-seven years but not now, I needed a machine but not anymore. Alone now and strangely calm - this is how it ends, the final cut. He looked at her gravely and slides beside her under covers of night. I feel his presence as a chill - wintery, I’m not dressed for this journey. A lantern held aloft in the forest of firs underfoot pine needles and snow the smell of resin and the crack of footfalls on icy ground. He smiles and I find myself smiling back a new doctor without a mask, weary eyes that have seen this all before and see too much I am weightless as a white feather drifting skyward. Ian Hartley
View Poem »

Woodpecker Squall

The five feathers of Autumn weather Were a woodpecker’s downed chatter Under an Oaks wings And the rain’s prism sang in my lashes Over and over Ring in fast skies September October The beak of the sky Pummelled the wood But I dried it’s staccato why By waving the feathers of my hand Until the spots merged Back to fine weather Then left altogether. Stephen Kirin
View Poem »

Becalmed

I can no longer dot the i’s, nor cross the t’s. A pale haze, like Sunday afternoons, pleasant after a glass of wine too many, drifts across my day. I am at peace. I find myself disposed to acquiesce, content to live life at this gentle pace, content, it seems, with how life’s focus, now diminished, takes on the softened blur of evening light. Something sharp is lost. But the time for mourning it is done. The wind that swelled the sails has dropped, the tide recedes, the fierceness of the sun is quenched, leaving the sunshine’s golden glow that speaks the lateness of the hour. A taste of salt upon my lips - no call for worry or regrets - a bitter-sweet recall of what has gone. Julia Duke
View Poem »

River Stour, Sudbury

Mirror of ripples, floating tangles and bubbly foam. Swans racing The togetherness Of aqua. Sallow splashes Poplars tremble And minds drift. Jungle of reeds On vertical plane Moorhen hideout. Anon.
View Poem »

A Way of Life

It’s become a way of life this summer, the canvas bag slung over my shoulder hoping not to need it hoping the sky will stay blue long enough to get a walk by the sea. It’s become a way of life this summer, wearing my green jeans, wearing a matching sweatshirt to keep the wind out, wearing green wherever possible to match my green cagoule in case I need it. It’s becoming a way of life, it’s true, this life of uncertainty which nags at the back of your mind and keeps you constantly looking up the weather on your phone. It’s a way of life, this anxiety which sends me scurrying for help when it mushrooms out of control in the middle of the night. Julia
View Poem »