Poems of the Month – April 2026 – Ben Adams & Veronica Cookson

The Poems of the Month for April 2026, selected by 2026 Anthology editors Elizabeth Salna and Erica Jolly, are flattop by Ben Adams and Modern Slant on an Old Story by Veronica Cookson. The commended poems are Swallowtail Butterfly by Kylie DinningBroken News by Billy-Jack JohnsonEvelyn, Little Evelyn by Geoff Johnson and Travelling North by Rob McKinnon.


flattop
Ben Adams

the instinct of fire is
conflagration

filling space like a man who won’t stop talking
about not getting caught in groupthink
how he doesn’t see empathy as a virtue
and that he formulated these ideas
after reading Orwell, Huxley, Peterson
and Plato
speaking to people
and dating a woman
whose worldview was based on emotions

he hates cops
for all the wrong reasons

considers multiculturalism impossible
from a logical standpoint
and says educated white people think BBQs and backyard cricket
are analogous with white supremacy
slight hyperbole, he admits
but not far from the mark

he is an exothermic process
becoming everything
replacing air with heat, the still surface
of a flattop grill or timber frame
a hanging tent flap, or skin
with crackling singe and melt

he’s forgotten to flip the snags again

the way embers smoulder
kindling catches love like a spark
follows algorithmic oxygen
to inhale it like hate, like something
his body wants
the world is a many-faced god

and he’s forgotten to check the steaks
as we stand away in the smokers’ corner
discussing the sociology of flame

as weapon of war, the worst way to die
he talks about diesel engines
speeding fines and the family court
religion as culture
and ritual, a warm hearth
he remembers

I mention the witches they burned

tell him that
combustion doesn’t care
what it consumes

and violence only becomes visible
at the ignition point


Modern Slant on an Old Story
Veronica Cookson

The original
Antonio, Merchant of Venice, Act 1, Scene 1

‘In sooth, I know not why I am so sad.
It wearies me, you say it wearies you,
But how I caught it, found it, or came by it,
What stuff ’tis made of, whereof it is born,
I am to learn;
And such a want-wit sadness makes of me
That I have much ado to know myself.’

My Version

Damned if I know why I’m so glum.
I’m fed-up with it, you reckon you are too.
But where this snivelling Black Dog came from,
why it chose my door, or how long it will stay,
is anybody’s guess;
and melancholy morphs me into such a misery guts
that I fear I am no longer the ‘Merchant’ of old.


Swallowtail Butterfly
Kylie Dinning

Loops, dips and swirls, children asking why
Dainty Swallowtail is flying free
A flurry of questions across the sky

Soaring and dipping like a tiny kite
She floats down to settle on a citrus tree
Loops, dips and swirls, children asking why

Hushed voices, stilled bodies and shared delight
We watch as she lays her eggs on a leaf
A flurry of questions across the sky

Friends are called to witness the sight
Tiny dots we can only just see
Loops, dips and swirls, children asking why

Each day we check that all is right
Watch as her offspring nibble on leaves
A flurry of questions across the sky

Preschoolers ready to take their own flight
Teachers preparing to set them free
Loops, dips and swirls, children asking why
A flurry of questions across the sky


Broken News
Billy-Jack Johnson

breaking news
this just in
there’s been
a mass loving
in the city CBD
thirteen counts of social isolation: dead
fears of abandonment: four wounded
dozens of witnesses
recount feelings of restored faith in humanity

breaking news
neighbours report
extraordinary quietude following
domestic resolution
unconscious maladaptive patterns
seen fleeing the scene

breaking news
public laneways vandalised
with words of affirmation
and images of the beauty of nature
the perpetrator is being sought
for additional works

breaking news
cases of schoolyard cooperation
are at all all-time high
experts are at a loss for words
parents and teachers
cite entrenched culture of appreciation

breaking news
surge in incidents
of random acts of kindness
residents advised to venture outdoors
to increase their chances
of community engagement

breaking news
influencer’s viral video
amasses a hundred million views in 24 hours
followers and pundits alike shocked
at exhortations
to practice empathy and understanding

breaking news
ongoing displacement
of avarice and corruption from the region
it’s the third straight month
of starvation going hungry
terror and murder
have been on life-support
international analysts predict
an abundance of wellbeing

thank you for joining us
for this special broadcast
stay tuned for further updates
and now to the weather


Evelyn, Little Evelyn
Geoff Johnson

There are those who push
boulders up a hill
only to watch them fall
down again.

A strange pathology!
A miserly retraction of joy,
sheer delight in motion,
exercises in playfulness.

Not our Evelyn!
Six-year-old speed demon
hurtling past our cabin
at a Park, quarantined
for families and slow vehicles.

A glorious skid
at the bottom of the hill
testament to her joie de vivre
over and over again
ascending and descending
on her pink chariot.

Imprinting in muscle memory
defiance of convention
a feminine assault
on every boundary and ceiling.

Evelyn, little Evelyn
I think Sisyphus
could learn a thing or two!


Travelling North
Rob McKinnon

Starting out,

filled multi-lane motorway
funnels traffic out of the city,
exits siphon sweltering commuters
to new swelling suburbs
of the ever-increasing sprawl.

Advancing,

petrol stations with fast food outlets
become the last stands
of the bulging urban,
eave to eave buildings give way
to fenced fields,
the busy dual carriageway
becomes a two-way thoroughfare
with decreased traffic density.

Further,

glimmering heat haze
on the blistering bitumen
creates mirages of moisture,
always far away.

Progressing,

abandoned decaying buildings,
once shops and homes
within hundreds of metres
of redirected road sections,
contain nothing but graffiti
and vague memories.

Continuing,

crows pick impatiently
at a small crushed carcase,
dazed by the easy meal
only moving just in time
after blasts of the car horn.

Travelling north,

saltbushes sway in seared soil…

the journey continues

still a long way to go…


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