Poems from HQ Poetry Magazine to issue 20

HQ Poetry Magazine

A selection of poems recently published in HQ (to issue 20), by Leo Aylen, Richard Bonfield, Terry Cuthbert, Danielle Hope, Mike Hoy, P J Kavanagh, Susan Lee Kerr, Patrick Moore, Emma Pearson, Philip Rowland, David Steele, Lucien Stryk, Tom Vaughan.

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Richard Bonfield
Norwich

hUny I luv 'U'

The eskimos hav 18 difrent names for snow
And todays snow waznt like any snow I now
But... in the absense of an eskimo
Piglet and I hav decided to call it
"Snow"?

I hav a similar problem with luv

The misstiks hav 18 difrent names for luv
And todays luv waznt like any luv I new
But... in the absense of a wizer pooh
Piglet and I hav decided to call it
'hUny' with a capital 'U'.

Philip Rowland
East Molesey, Surrey

(for Kristina)

Newly in love -
so many things I
refrain from mentioning.

Emma Pearson
London

No Words

I would write about you.
I want to.
But I can't.
So I remember that someone else once wrote about
a halibut
who so fell in love with an albatross
that when the bird was shot, for practice,
it ate it, for a memento.

I would write words to justify you.
I want to.
But I can't.
So I remember that someone else once wrote this:
Though you are more beast than human,
more worm than soil,
still my thoughts return to you.

I would write down my feelings for you.
I want to.
But I can't.
All I know is that
the Buddleia attracts the Butterfly
and I want to know the reason why, but there isn't one
because nature knows
no words.

Terry Cuthbert
Oxford

So lonely today.
Goldfish
gets an extra feed.

Leo Aylen
London

Raindance

Listen to the pulse and beat of the hands
On the sky till the clouds hack out their thunder
From the squatting heat of the trampled sand
Spun into whirlwind, as dancers flounder

Through breaking waves of drumcrash rolling
The mountains like pebbles towards the gush
Of the coming flood, till the gusts, howling
Through whipped thornbushes, cease in a hush

Poised at the brink on a precipice
Of thrashing downpour now set free.
The clouds explode the thunder's release
The drowned earth wakes, suckles sweet sea.

P J Kavanagh
Elkstone, Gloucestershire

Friends who would hate with me
this increasing noise of traffic
which scares the rooks and lies
like invisible soot on the backs of sheep
are either mercifully deaf now
or dead already.

Susan Lee Kerr
London

Two Haiku

May morning greenfly
in my pink lipstick, you chose
a beautiful death

Listening for life
astronomers hear backchat
from a microwave

Lucien Stryk
DeKalb, Illinois

Phone Call (for Michael Pennington)

Today my friend and I rejoice -
he is a grandfather. Ten steps
from the abacus, I pound my old
typewriter, wonder at the miracle

that brought his voice across an
ocean to my room. I am a dreamer
on a lonely road, away from websites,
soundbytes, virtual realities

that numb the day. I sit, filled
with his joy, reflecting on the surge
of dandelions on the lawn. Hedges,
fields are burgeoning gold with them.

Squirrels, rabbits, wildlife in
the woods begin their gusty antics,
birds size up branches leafing into
spring. And over there, a child is born.

Danielle Hope
London

Dawn Rondo

Fox cubs run by the windows
your rugs multiply
and trains shuffle by,
rock their gloomy embankment.
Empty carraiges leer
at your paintings, books, raki.

And you, your burglar-stripe shirt
buried in a blue chair,
drinking more than before,
writing each grim dawn.
Your mallet fist beats the pen
across the page. The wind-chime spins.

Mike Hoy
Sheffield

Hoyku

my spelling atrocious
my maths even worse
spend summer writing hoyku

Patrick Moore
Selsey, Sussex

Solo by Peleus: It's a Ponderous Delusion (with Chorus)
taken from the Opera 'Peleus'

It's a ponderous delusion, when we live in strict seclusion,
That the troubles of the world will disappear.
That political confusion is just a mere intrusion
Of the philosophical attitude to fear.
Let the politicians chatter - it is not an urgent matter
When you live in strict seclusion all the year.

Chorus

Let the politicians chatter - it is not an urgent matter
When you live in strict seclusion all the year.

There are confidential meetings, with diplomatic greetings,
As they pay a round of visits to their foes.
There are complimentary stutterings and subterranean mutterings
But they publish reams of laudatory prose.
They swear eternal friendships - before they plan to send ships,
And what may be the outcome, goodness knows!

Chorus

They swear eternal friendships - before they plan to send ships,
And what may be the outcome, goodness knows!

Let us make the best of laughter, for what may come hereafter
May demand the passing tribute of a tear.
For everything we cherish will eventually perish,
But philosophers should never interfere.
We may join the band of sages who wrote in bygone ages
If we live in strict seclusion all the year.

Chorus

We may join the band of sages who wrote in bygone ages
If we live in strict seclusion all the year.

Tom Vaughan
Paris

Summitry

There's only one way to the top -
You'll know it when it comes in sight.
Once you've set out, you must not stop
Fearing to fall from such a height.

You'll know it when it comes in sight -
If you don't, it's not for you.
Fearing to fall from such a height,
I'll watch to see how well you do.

If you don't, it's not for you -
Dare to strike out on your own.
I'll watch to see how well you do:
This is my way of being alone.

Dare to strike out on your own -
When you get there, don't look down.
This is my way of being alone:
I'll spread the news of your renown.

When you get there, don't look down,
Don't try to see if I'm still here.
I'll scale the news of your renown -
Scale the summit, bleak and sheer.

Don't try to see if I'm still here -
Once you've set out you must not stop.
Scale the summit bleak and sheer:
There's only one way to the top.

David Steele
North Elmham, Norfolk

Haiku

see how the coastline
exactly fits the ocean
all the way along

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This page last updated 7th December 2003