Author Archives: Val Hickman

Al Fresco

 

 

                   AL FRESCO

 

Bring not tables nor chairs
come with hands empt
spread yourself on Mothers blanket
let  dusk dew dampen
wait
wait in whispers
sip slowly an aperitif of blackbird
nibble a starter of rabbit
a main of bats
then
queen of all desserts
a clan of badgers
all served on a ladle of love.

                                                       Val Hickman

14/07/2010

News

Coffee in hand
fifteen minutes of pre-school debate
Tussel – four minutes by Thesaurus
twenty four nouns
twenty two verbs
fifteen minutes of coffee and sour grapes.
Spit spit spit.

 

 

 

 

Smoke isn`t in my eyes

1st check for hedgehogs,
2nd wind direction,
3rd is it Sundays?
tick
tick
tick

Tinder no larger than a spit
unraveled  by nicotine fingers
just one match.
I was abandoned for a roll up.
Smoke not enough for me
I demanded flames
built a scaffold of prunings,
bashed them flat with the pitchfork.
BASH BASH BASH.
He returned, took my architecture to bits.
Not even a hot spot.
Another spit, cradled like a new born,
a glow, a breath of life
nurtured on match stick lengths of twigs
and then, and then a flame.
Now smoke doesn`t get in me eyes,
the curling tendrils are Harry.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fire Flies in your Eyes

Solstice  Moon held us in its  swoon,
midnight’s bracken flashed.

One by one they hatched
showed of their abdomens
pale reds, greens, yellows.

In there wake you left me,
quested me,
fire flies in your eyes.

 

 

Val Hickman

CLANGERS

CLANGERS

 

An accident – Scottie beamed me up

where Clangers Moon

taught me the language of whistles

fuelled my tank with vinegar and soap flakes.

 

Where Clangers Moon

knitted me pretty in pink,

fed me green soup from the Soup Dragons Well,

gave me a key to a dustbin lid.

 

Knitted me pretty in pink,

I HATE PINK!

Chained me in Blue String Pudding

sedated me with the Singing Flower Song.

 

I HATE PINK!

And the day glo green teases of a froglet trio.

Fuelled my tank with vinegar and soap flakes,

bubble wrapped my migration.

 

 

 

 

Val Hickman 2/10/16

 

March of the Himalayan Balsam

comments please.

 

MARCH OF THE HIMALYAN BALSAM

From the waters of the Meekong to the waters of the Aled,

from yaks to Frisians,

this `pink peril` marches parallel to the ways of water.

 

The grubbers ignore this `touch-me-not`

trigger the pop, pop, pop of seed,

knocks the block off its `goblins heads`,

tarnish the jewel.

 

Glad am I to be in poverty, poor enough to see this `orchid`.

 

Oh my pretty in pink, pucker your petals,

return to kiss your mountain.