Fizz

Agnieszka Wodzińska


Before I could speak, I found language in your soft face, mimicked it, and tomorrow, I will see you one last time. If I seem afraid, forgive me, but you know I’ve never done this before.

When I heard the news, I dreamt that you opened your eyes and so I told them you were fine, but they dragged me away and piled on the dirt. I woke up afraid, yet I was never scared of you, so why start now? There’s no use.

Tomorrow, I will be brave and say goodbye. If it sounds like a greeting, please let it, let it be the start of letting you go. I will stroke your hair and stay calm and won’t think of dirt unless it’s your garden, where the magnolia blooms early still, puckering, pink.

The garden, where you made friends with spiders and moths, scooped them up into your capable hands, staved off wasps daring to hurt your baby’s baby napping in the shade. Plucking chives for dinner. Humming to your favourite rose. Gloved fingers in the soil, the soil, fizzing with life, you’d say, cracking eggshells, raking, singing in the mid-day sun.

Tonight, I weigh each memory of you in my hand like I am handling rare seeds. Then, loose on my feet, I come close to the veil, where you sit in your favourite chair, smiling a conspirator’s smile. You lean in and gently push me back into the fold of life.


Agnieszka Wodzińska is a writer and art historian based in Scotland. Agnieszka’s prose tackles memory, obsession, and the making and breaking of rituals. Her short story “Commune” was included in April Showers Publishing’s Winter 2025 Zine.

Sieveringer Straße 141

Ruth Quill


I love being in a place long enough
to form an attachment to the public transport line
that brings me back to where I stay

call me Francis the train guy
but the Pågatågen and Victoria Line / kind dates who dropped me to my door
the 99 / a lift from a friend
the Lothian 26 / an artifact of home

and now after a long day
the sliding door of the 39a bus / my fence
the easy green of the U4 metro / my lawn
to my door, mine


Ruth Quill is a Scottish poet and freelance artist based in Leith. Her writing is often inspired by childhood whimsy and play.

I wrote this poem while solo travelling in Austria, sitting on the Metro with my pocket journal that followed me around that trip. I was riding a high of having retired Google Maps and feeling a new sense of belonging in the city. I find I still go back to it now, to soothe myself when I am full of nerves about starting something new.

windfallen

K Roberts


a lost friendship
dormant in the mind’s steeple
is an unstruck bell

a furled sail, tethered
horse behind a fence, ignored
by cars rushing past

as I rake yellow
orchard leaves, the last apples – like
red foxes in snow


K Roberts is a professional non-fiction writer, and a volunteer reader and editor for literary magazines. Artwork and poetry credits include Rundelaria, Pensive, Novus, Writing in a Woman’s Voice, and the now-shuttered Panoply and Otoliths, both of which are much-missed.

‘windfallen’ was Highly Commended in the Briefly Write Poetry Prize 2025.

Starting Over

Amy Devine


It is 6am in the city and we are sharing
a wet morning walk and it is still dark and
you are still a wrinkle in my nose on the worst days.
I hold up old clothes and cannot fathom them
being new again. I was so sure that she would die
and I cannot imagine seeing you live, seeing you sleep
in the space between the present and the windowsill.

We could only find five fingers at the last ultrasound.
I imagine the others curled into a fist around my lowest rib.


Amy Devine is an artist from a lineage of artists, based in Sydney, Australia. Her work has been featured in several publications including The Antigonish Review, flashglass and Beyond the Veil Press. She is a Best of the Net nominee and her first book, ‘Speaking of Bees’, was published by Harvard Square Press in 2025.

‘Starting Over’ was Highly Commended in the Briefly Write Poetry Prize 2025.

Alive, Alive, Oh

Cailín Frankland


My mother,
the fourth of five children—or
the sixth of seven, if you count the ones
granny gave away—used to sing
me to sleep. Tales of famine and fever,
lyrics of the lost and losing—she raised
me on old Irish grief, dirges dressed
as lullabies.

I still wake to the ghost of
Molly Malone, to plaintive ringing in my ears.


Cailín Frankland (she/they) is a British-American writer and public health professional. They live in Baltimore with their spouse, two old lady cats, and a 70-pound pitbull affectionately known as Baby. You can find them on X as @cailin_sm.

‘Alive, Alive, Oh’ was Highly Commended in the Briefly Write Poetry Prize 2025.

Golden Shovel Against Bureaucracy

Anaum Sajanlal


after Ezzideen Shehab, for his cousin Qasem

Here is oppression and high poetry: death
made slow, frequent, staggering. And we turn away. And when it comes
for us, we will be gazing at a painting of a tiny body wrapped
in white, oblivious to the grief of the artist and his canvas he rips out. The wood in
art burns well. He cooks for his family. For ours, we build our monuments to civility.


Anaum Sajanlal is a genderqueer femme lesbian who writes on queerness, survivorship, colonialism, and resistance. They are a settler in Tsi Tkaronto from colonially-named India and Pakistan. She can be found knitting surrounded by her abundance of niece and nephew pets.

‘Golden Shovel Against Bureaucracy’ was Highly Commended in the Briefly Write Poetry Prize 2025.

The Boy by the Kiosk

Kafui Siabi


He sharpens oranges with a blade too clean,
peels them spiral, like he’s undoing a year.
His shirt reads NASA. He’s never left Makola.

Coins clink like small regrets.
He ties the bag, hands it over,
juice trailing down his wrist like truth.

Behind him, a radio coughs into static.
He doesn’t flinch.
The sky threatens rain again.
He bets it won’t.


Ghanaian writer, Kafui Mawunyo Siabi writes with quiet humour, observing everyday life. ‘The Boy by the Kiosk’ is a subtle portrait of labor, unspoken dreams and hope waiting its turn. This poem won Third Prize in the Briefly Write Poetry Prize 2025.

Homesick

Cindy Kluck-Nygren


We found
you lying on your left side, your right arm reaching out in front of you
pushing away
the top sheet like it was something to fear

the cannula resting peacefully on the empty side of the bed
tossed as far away
as its plastic umbilical cord would allow
still breathing


Cindy Kluck-Nygren strives to craft poetry and stories that prompt readers to pause, to reflect, and to feel. A native of Chicago, Illinois, who now lives outside Austin, Texas, Cindy insists she misses the Midwest’s snowy and frigid winters.

‘Homesick’ won Second Prize in the Briefly Write Poetry Prize 2025.

Shade

Lawrence Bradby


We had front seats
on the long coach trip to the capital
through hills that ramped down from high tors
and ramped back up. The whole way
we gazed straight ahead.

At our lodgings the landlord leant out of his kitchen window
to eulogise the view of lights pricking out
over the dark estuary: ‘used to be
Europe’s longest bridge’. Stood in the hallway,
each holding an overnight bag, we saw none of it.


Lawrence Bradby writes poems and short non-fiction prose texts and is a creative writing tutor with City Lit in London. Since October 2020, he and his family have lived in Portugal and he blogs about being a foreigner.

‘Shade’ won First Prize in the Briefly Write Poetry Prize 2025.

The Briefly Write Poetry Prize 2025 is open now!

The Briefly Write Poetry Prize is back… and bigger than ever before!

An annual poetry competition that celebrates and rewards bold, succinct writing, the Briefly Write Poetry Prize 2025 is the fifth instalment of this popular free-to-enter writing competition.

See the competition guidelines and enter here.

We are looking for well-crafted poems up to 10 lines, with innovative language, strong imagery and a subtle, focused composition.

Our biggest prize pot ever

This year, the minimum prize fund in the Briefly Write Poetry Prize is £80, divided as follows:

FIRST = £40 / SECOND = £25 / THIRD = £15. All shortlisted poets will also be paid.

We are committed to accessibility and, as such, entry is free for everyone. If you can, we would appreciate any support to help us meet the costs and boost the prize fund.

Briefly Write Poetry Prize 2025 open now

Read all of 2024’s winning and commended poems here.