by Rachel Piercey | Oct 2, 2024 | Issue 8 poems
Pushing your feet against the dirt, you soon forget about the day’s troubles. You launch into the air, the butterflies in your stomach finally free to soar into the sky. Then you zoom out, throw you head back and gaze at the blueberry-muffin sky, and notice a cloud in...
by Rachel Piercey | Oct 2, 2024 | Issue 8 poems
It’s only me and Mama. Some say our family’s small. But when I’m in her great big hug, We don’t feel small at all. * Deborah Holt Williams is the author of five early readers published by the educational company Continental Press. Her writing has appeared in...
by Rachel Piercey | Oct 2, 2024 | Issue 8 poems
I poke my head under the ground, between the tall stalks of garlic and the chubby cauliflowers, feeling like a giant peering into a doll’s house. I find them all cuddled there, safe and sleepy in their earthy cots, under a cosy blanket of warm soil. They remind me of...
by Rachel Piercey | Oct 2, 2024 | Issue 8 poems
A tiny tickle grows. And grows and grows and grows. You hesitate; inhale, inflate and then your nose explodes. * Richard Jodah lives in London, writing and not writing. His poems have appeared in The Caterpillar, The Dirigible Balloon, and The School...
by Rachel Piercey | Oct 2, 2024 | Issue 8 poems
II’m a sun-blazed sphere of ochre delight.I can be sweet or bitter, depends on the weather.I’m great in a jiffy, excel in a jam;my supreme segments glint and whirl likemarmalade tygers in every bite. III was a bit green at first, waxing and waninglike a crescent moon...
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