Archive for January 6, 2019

My Mother’s Pregnancy

Posted in Uncategorized on January 6, 2019 by antonyowen

Peace Poet Antony Owen

brown and blue bird on body of water closeup photography Photo by Monique Laats on

I think of you in the Rhyl grey sky

pressing thread veins from your thighs

inside I was knotted into the calm audio

breaking through water like a kingfisher feeding.

I think of you watching kelp waves thickly falling

My Dad and you hugging it out stretching his cardigan

he was fretting about money, and you worried about me

what if I was like winter arriving too early and cold?

When I was born a smoke cloud came and went

they doused me in flannelette, you held me like silk

we are perfect in a single moment then never again

I was raised in a nicotine mist and working mans fog.

I think of my Mother missing her Mother long gone

it is time to stop living in Tru-print coloured photographs,

my mother is getting older to the point of bending like polaroids.


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Proof that the world was made by a woman

Posted in Uncategorized on January 6, 2019 by antonyowen
topless woman wearing black bottoms

Photo by Engin Akyurt on

Remember when we sorted out the world as we walked through Wren Lane?

I said that black holes were fingerprints of drowned immigrants,

you said it wasn’t possible scientifically but it made us kiss –

I said science never made you respond with a kiss.


Remember when a stray dog whined when you stroked it close to its mouth?

you said it cried because it wasn’t used to being touched kindly by humans,

I said that we should leave it there and it walked away with its head down

you said we could have taken it in but I liked things how they were.


Remember when I was so lost and you stroked my hair until I found the remnants?

I said you had remade my whole world with letting me regrow from destroyed.

You said we were forever and I replied it wasn’t scientifically possible,

you said science never made you respond with a kiss and I…..


And I,

And I loved you

Until the threads of a world killing meteor.

Thank you for speaking English

Posted in Uncategorized on January 6, 2019 by antonyowen

Peace Poet Antony Owen

grayscale photo of man with taqiyah cap Photo by Himanshu Raj on

“For isn’t it odd that the only language I have in which to speak of this crime is the language of the criminal who committed the crime?” 

Jamaica Kincaid

When we whipped your brown skin red for praying in Urdu

thank you for begging in broken English for your life.

When crows made you sway from the lightening tree

thank you for the Assam fields in porcelain China.

When we tortured Connor Murphy for stealing bread for his baby

thank you for renouncing Victoria in Gaelic and pink spit.

When Irish bloodlines froze to white statues on gorse

thank you for the thorn in the mad lions paw.

When we soaked the atlas blood red of empire and savage gentlemen

thank you for fighting us, then in defeat fighting for us.

When we called you British enough to die for us,

thank you for…

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