by Rachel Piercey | May 17, 2024 | Issue 7 poems
Of all the dinner ladies, Mrs Spencer was our favourite. She skipped round the playground trailing long lines of children off each hand. The big ship sails through the Alley Alley Oh She also made us footballs from her old tights, a small green cushion we hoofed and...
by Rachel Piercey | May 17, 2024 | Issue 7 poems
and he says things using colours instead of words. He creates collages with shapes – his canvases are portraits, landscapes of an abstract world. But daddy can also paint without holding a brush. He paints by sowing seeds, by trimming the dormant shrubs. He paints by...
by Rachel Piercey | May 17, 2024 | Issue 7 poems
Mary Anning, Mary, Mary, as the rhyme goes, quite contrary. Scoured the shore from break of dawn for Devil’s Fingers, Ammon’s Horn*, to sell within her shop in Lyme – strange treasure from an ancient time. Mary Anning, Mary, Mary, soon became extraordinary. From...
by Rachel Piercey | May 17, 2024 | Issue 7 poems
* Sarah Ziman is a poet from Wales who likes cats, crisps, cake, reading and rhyme. She dislikes writing about herself. She won the YorkMix Poems for Children Prize 2021, and has been commended three times for The Caterpillar Poetry Prize. She enjoys annoying...
by Rachel Piercey | May 17, 2024 | Issue 7 poems
I’d like to think the wolf came out of nowhere, but the truth is he had shown his face, shown his teeth, left his intruder footsteps in the hallway of our lives. We were unfamiliar with wolves so we missed the signs – a murky memory, names that erased themselves,...
by Rachel Piercey | May 17, 2024 | Issue 7 poems
There is a menu on the wall like none you’ve ever seen before. To read it, you’ll need a hard hat and a stomach for the dark. Long ago they came with flame, burning the shadows to hide where they knew for a brief time they would be safe from the hunting party and the...
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