Daily Archives: April 11, 2016

If only I […] could pass as clear as water through a plume of grass by Natalia Spencer

I am not a silent poet

—Alice Oswald The Self-Playing Instrument Of Water
Often he rose at five cracked ice to wash
gulped tea black as night’s last swatches
on the rare times he bought blade to chin
hands calloused from plough mill or forge
the prisms…. leapt out of puddled rain took him
no further than a Welsh shoreline
Often he sliced skin…. his blood….. a penance
for lack of craft on hand me down strop
Now ……..like eye of dead sun…….. the crucible hangs
useless on its axis
much the same as plastic razors storm blown
across polythene patchwork oceans
coral bleached……… crawling up
long sampan hulls…….. & tourist boats

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The Imagined Detention of a Muslim Cricketer by Antony Owen

I am not a silent poet

Excuse me Sir !

are those bloodstains on your cricket whites?

No Sir they are overs I wiped like lips around basmati

where all of us spoke English eating cardamom from viceroy fields.

Excuse me mate

I watched those wickets smash like little bones

and remembered that earthquake only felt there

where children were detained with water from French glaciers.

Excuse me kids,

you can’t play cricket here this is prohibited grass

you can’t use fanta bottles as wickets but you can

south of Peshawar where wells blink from earthquakes.

Excuse me all,

I wanted to detain you through the power of an average poem

and question why as a white man I might grow that wrong beard

but if you want to stop me we can talk about Cricket, and that.

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