© Copyright of all poems remain with the poets.
Angela Carter MY CAT IN HER FIRST SPRING With the spring coming, my cat is beginning to bud. sprouting nipples all along her long white breast, this long-legged, adolescent she. And in the strange country fitfully lit by the inward-turning suns of her yellow eyes, such alien trees shake out moist leaf and the seed-crusted ferns uncoil with a slow blindness in the rich fruit-cake of her dark recesses where the wrinkled intuitions her summer roses stir and tremble in their sleep for spring is coming, and the fat buds bulge. |
Daisey Abey
My Own Prison Cell Steel sashes grind grooves, Weighted walls, dead air, my trembling heart A world of silence, solitary yet With the odour of molten metal. I make my bed, hours turn and return And roll into its hot sweat pool The phone still, isolated reinforced iron door In vain my eyes travel from corner to floor. My terror sinks between green curtains No escape route to the enticing blue A book opens, shuffles and settles beneath My obscure mind’s empty drifting arc. I invade round the narrowing inches Winter shaking the bare birch body Packed within wind, cold shutters My breath fades, revives and fades again. I wonder and wander my limbs fail, Amazed at my staggering existence I force the lock with a rusty metal key Struggling again to set me free. |
Daisey Abey
Running With the Wind
As silence begins to echo
Moonless nights are alive
My garden a fox path
Beneath the conifer hedges.
Every sense alert they pounce
Airborne black jets
Peewits raise the alarm
Distantly dogs bark.
Their noses quiver, ears prick
They twitch their brown brushes
Territorial instinct,recognition posts
Smell sour rusty steel.
They prowl the hen-runs fruitlessly
Moving eyes listening ears
Dance with hind legs up in the air
‘Foxes carry no keys’.
Peering nocturnal green glow
Lightning flashes oscillating
They live with the wind, run with the wind
And leap unchallenged the shadowed dark.
Running With the Wind
As silence begins to echo
Moonless nights are alive
My garden a fox path
Beneath the conifer hedges.
Every sense alert they pounce
Airborne black jets
Peewits raise the alarm
Distantly dogs bark.
Their noses quiver, ears prick
They twitch their brown brushes
Territorial instinct,recognition posts
Smell sour rusty steel.
They prowl the hen-runs fruitlessly
Moving eyes listening ears
Dance with hind legs up in the air
‘Foxes carry no keys’.
Peering nocturnal green glow
Lightning flashes oscillating
They live with the wind, run with the wind
And leap unchallenged the shadowed dark.