Poems
-
Seeking spiders
Arachnophilia – finally. When fear of isolation overcomes fear of spiders. You can view the video version on the Shorelines Poetry channel.
-
Tell Him
I do not want to hear any more about why. I want to know why not. I can write you the story of why, the story of colonisation and socialisation, of depredation and emasculation. I can write you the story of why, of emotional muteness, of physical bruteness. Of manhood negated, frustrated, contested, neglected. Of lack, of loss, of bottles, buttons and needles. Of guns and gangs, of lawlessness and lovelessness. Of roles reversed, of boundaries burst. I do not want one more story of why. Tell me why not. Tell me why he didn’t. Tell me why he won’t. Tell me why he does not seek his manhood in…
-
Home to roost
My sister had a fear of birds She couldn’t put it into words But if she simply saw a fowl She would start to run and howl. I’m told that once a turkey chased her And our Dad could not placate her. When my Mum bought 5 small bantams My sister started throwing tantrums. She refused to set foot in the yard Unless she had a bodyguard. More bantams hatched, my sister cried Eventually she even tried A course of hypnotherapy She said it really helped her see The reasons for ornithophobia But didn’t stop it whelming over her The only bird she didn’t hate Was in an egg or…
-
Drought
From the air, A collage of uniform colour Pitch black outlines of Ochre polygons An ascetic aesthetic. On the ground, Clay. Fired, baked, cracked, encrusted Exhausted, consumed, sterile. A sinister symmetry An ominous infinity.
-
Why I read
My best friend loves to watch TV He’s always making fun of me Because on rainy afternoons While he is staring at cartoons I’m far away – but right next door Searching through my treasure store I have no gold but if you look You’ll see I have a precious book. It’s full of tales from long ago Once read aloud by fire glow. I sit and savour every word I look up those I’ve never heard I see the heroes and the thieves The monsters and the talking trees. The images run through my head So even when I go to bed Witches, giants and dragons leap From every…
-
I’d love to be a bird but…
I’d love to be a bird – but just So I can wash myself in dust I wouldn’t want to fly all day In search of food, no time to play I sometimes wish I were a shark I could go swimming in the dark Or a huge hippo in a hollow Full of mud where I could wallow I would quite like to be a bat I’ve a very good reason for saying that It’s fun hanging upside down from trees Although it hurts the backs of my knees A crocodile’s career seems fun It can make like a log or bask in the sun But the turtle’s life…
-
Heart
I trace my roots with the beat of my heartIt counts the living rings of time and not the dead wood of selective historyIt hammers remembranceOf a girl with red-gold hairWho led me hunting adders in the forest 2010 For Georgina, a New Forest gypsy, who died of pneumonia in 1973, aged 15
-
Life at 10
The planet does not need us It will survive without us But we need the earth Kannon Sazi Apelgren 2015
-
Mdukatshani
Dust gilded on a bone-dry wind Laughter lifted, echoing along the cliffs to collide with the call of a hammerkop Flamadiddle of footsteps, bouncing off the blazing stone bed of the Tugela Sun shimmering the darting shapes of children and dogs, scampering to a White-glinting wink of water Effortless energy of light, sound and dance Face shadowed beneath a pail Footfall silenced in the hungry soil, feeling a path between the red rocks to the grey bank Figure poised, pausing, scanning the remains of the river, shrunk and sucked by drought and draught Dipping, fills the bucket from the stream and, standing, turns Away to trace the daily route Wasting…
