by Rachel Piercey | Jul 21, 2023 | Issue 5 poems
They shift above: The face of a man with a beard as long As his wait for love, A woman dancing free, arms reaching, reaching, A lost dolphin leaping, A giant frog, complete with bunny’s tail, Half a whale, Another face – wide eyes staring, wild hair flaring, A planet...
by Rachel Piercey | Jul 21, 2023 | Issue 5 poems
Let’s go see what the tide brought in, Down to the shore with the keeping tin. Scrump’ll come too – he’ll swim. Pebbles and stones and sea-stripped twigs. Seaweed clumps like mermaid wigs. Scrump’ll come too – he’ll dig. A chunk of sea glass, big as your thumb. A...
by Rachel Piercey | Jul 21, 2023 | Issue 5 poems
An amazing pink and red and yellow coloured factory has just gone up in the city square. It seems to float lightly on top of a delicate thin green tower. Its shape is hard to describe. It’s full of windows, doors to let the sunlight and the workers in, who all arrive...
by Rachel Piercey | Jul 21, 2023 | Issue 5 poems
While we were gone today the pond, fed up with being left outside, broke in through the back door. It trickled round the house, leaving a snail here, a tadpole there, a green stain on the armchair. It must have been in the bath – the taps were slimy – and Dad’s...
by Rachel Piercey | Jul 21, 2023 | Issue 5 poems
and the house is so quiet it’s like a spell has been cast, turning the world to ice, turning the world to glass. Through the window the garden looks made of metal: grey and gleaming and still. So you open the back door and step outside, where the air is cool as milk...
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