Today’s choice
Previous poems
Andy Humphrey
Becoming Hedgehog
(i)
Noises are louder now: the kesh
of tyres on tarmac slicked
with leaves. Rain’s drumming thunder.
My other self pulls at me,
pricks from inside. Limbs compress, ribs
tighten around starved lungs. I furl;
I shrink, a leaf about to drop
quivering from its branch. Spine arches;
fingers, toes close in.
My needle skin hides me
in lengthening shadows: my armour
against the dogs, the melancholy owls.
(ii)
They all tell of frogs
snogged by princesses, lanky green
specimens transformed
into slender knights.
But it takes a special kiss
to break a hedgehog spell, to make
that knotted ball of me
unravel.
You have to place your x
just at the soft spot
at the tip of the nose, the point
where all taste and touch and feeling begins.
Slip, and you risk
mouthfuls of bristles, bleeding lips
and your one and only chance
to see real magic at work.
Andy Humphrey has published two collections of original poetry, A Long Way to Fall (Lapwing Press, 2013) and Satires (Stairwell Books, 2015). He lives in York and works as a solicitor. www.writeoutloud.net
Finola Scott
Such a knife, a real Et Tu Brute number. Bone handled, incisive. Decades of marriage
had whetted the blade to feather lean. Anniversaries marked in metal.
Sarah James/Leavesley
My mother’s knife made the first cuts –
she removed my fertile light bulbs,
then stuffed my womb with shredded tissues.
Max Wallis
god grant us the serenity / to accept the things we cannot change / the courage to change the / things we can / and the wisdom to know el differencio /
Play, National Poetry Day: Heather Hughes, Laura Webb, Jude Brigley
We searched so long for that clover.
Every time the sun shone we scoured
the fields and woods, running past
the children playing with skipping ropes
Play, For National Poetry Day: Suzanna Fitzpatrick, Charlotte Dormandy, Lee Fraser
10 Children dart in the dark, screamers
streaming sweets and neon, their parents
Play, for National Poetry Day: MD Bier, Catherine Sweeney, Rachel Burns
Those hot hot summer days. Hair curling against sticky clammy foreheads.
Pony tails, pig tails or braids. Keep it off our neck and backs.
Play, for National Poetry Day: Alexandra Corrin-Tachibana, Ruth Aylett , Brian Comber
They can imagine a forest,
we don’t need this minimalist tree,
we’ll represent a place to live without walls, without foundations or a hearth.
Play, for National Poetry Day: Jennifer A. McGowan, Judith Shaw, Robin Houghton, Wendy Klein
Over and over, you are Dorothy
or Glenda the Good,
me the Wicked Witch of the West
Play, for National Poetry Day: Oenone Thomas, Seán Street, David A. Lee
Every evening at the care home, I pull in
two armchairs til they’re facing. Opposites,
we never fist bump, high-five or
touch each other’s vying outstretched fingers.