HQ Poetry Magazine

A selection of poems from HQ issue 34, by M A Schaffner, Caroline Carver, Sheri Reda, Dudley Sutton, Fred  Beake and Elizabeth Rimington.

This issue also includes poems by Richard Bonfield, Yannis Goumas, Harry Guest, Michael P Hogan, James Kirkup and D M Thomas, among others. 

Copyright 2007. Copyright remains with the authors.

Poems from previous issue * next issue * To index * Back to HQ.

M A Schaffner
Arlington, Virginia

Dear Media

Under the desert, invoices in clay,
rites on papyrus, scriptures on vellum,
and perhaps a chip that no one can read
programmed in a language not only dead
but irretrievably inaudible.
And what does remain - waves echoed through space,
eternally receding - has no meaning
to creatures unacquainted with used cars,
migraines, pizza, sexual dysfunction,
and the spiralling cost of you-name-it.
Time made Ozymandias ludicrous
but did not erase his boast. Today's kings
will bury each other's transparent glyphs
under obelisks of eroding static.


Caroline Carver
Falmouth, Cornwall

morning on the wild side

went today to an untended part of the garden
watched spiders open store windows
and wait        like grandmothers
            while tumbrels load their grisly cargo

an Alexander beetle in shimmering tailcoat
lumbers slowly along
like someone from last night's party
trying to hail a taxi

ants are working out
on what seems to be
the highway to fulfilment
carrying goods and chattles in both directions

a couple of wasps try to kill each other

        not so different really
        from any street corner


Sheri Reda


We are deeply involved
like a nice, firm cut
through skin.
Like the quick Colorado
through granite.
Like a vertical
slash through veins.
The path you carve
courses through me
and out
again, taking
more than you notice,
less than you need.


Dudley Sutton

Junky Love

I met her in the Priory
We were in rehab
She was hot and fiery
Tasty as a kebab

Addict thin and wiry
A junky bag of bones
Her hair was thick and briary
Crimped by mobile phones

I knew I'd caught her eye
One evening leaving Group
Her fingers bushed my thigh
My boxers looped the loop

We fell among the bushes
Undressing as we tumbled
Despite my urgent shushes
Her giggles has us rumbled

After the enquiry
They drove us forth with whips
I took her to a friery
For a plate of fish and chips.


Fred Beake
Torquay, Devon

Yesterday and Today 

an an arm
through a hedge

and one bird
like a machine
and another

sweet-tuned and today
dances of cold
light and the old man
with white handkerchief for hat
bending over

by the hut
that is his own place
and the winter greens
like venusian troopers
awaiting orders


Elizabeth Rimington
Scarborough, Yorkshire

On Walden Pond (Pantoum form)

He sits alone in the gloaming
the pool reflects his thinking
What needs he of company?
But a gift lies on the table

The pool reflects his thinking
He is content that this should be so
But a gift lies on the table
The visitor remains unknown

He is content that this should be so
What needs he of company?
The visitor remains unknown
He sits alone in the gloaming.

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This page last updated 1st August 2010