by Lydia Hounat | Sep 23, 2022 | Featured, Poetry
You who stand in the red dust know that frogs no longer croak for rain. Bare ground cracks across remains of drains, windows in the taman-taman gape-broken and houses semi-detach, uprooting terraces. Absence is only flaking paint. Blown away are...
by Lydia Hounat | Sep 22, 2022 | Featured, Poetry
finally i’m annoyed enough to write a poem i sit & eat in the vietnamese restaurant long enough to feel annoyed a man is stroking a cat in the doorway i order the number 4 and watch katie cook the chicken on the grill finally i’m annoyed...
by Lydia Hounat | Sep 21, 2022 | Featured, Poetry
Before the market town with the Pepper Pot building and the concrete bus station and its standing water, we were Hampshire, Beirut and Freetown with neat shelves of Vimto, ivory, Milupa, of Milton, tie-dyes, pink almonds and sugarcane. I picture...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 20, 2022 | Featured, Poetry
In the Line Up It’s beginning to rain. Just drizzle now but who knows what that portends. And there’s no shelter. But at least we’re moving, slowly to be sure, but forward. “What’s this line for?” I ask the guy...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 19, 2022 | Featured, Poetry
A Present for Cat If I could send you the perfect present it would be a box with the words DELICIOUS VICTORIA SPONGE CAKE on the front and when you open that box it would reveal another box with the words FEROCIOUS SCORPION!!! written across it...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 18, 2022 | Featured, Poetry
Everyone Welcome I sit at the back of class, behind rows of people in padmasana. Legs crossed on their mats. I stay in my chair. I’m not everyone. I haven’t taught anyone in a chair before, says the teacher. I assume you know what you’re doing....
