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Hear Andrea Small read three poems as part of wave twenty-one of iamb ~ poetry seen and heard. #newpoetry iambapoet.com/wave/21-andrea…

Very early days to be sharing numbers, but the weekend page views for wave twenty-one of iamb ~ poetry seen and heard are looking healthy. Most viewed page so far? After the index page (perhaps inevitably), it appears Marie Little is drawing quite the crowd to her three poems.

'Duck egg is either blue or green, it depends solely on the light. I chose various shades of it for each and every room, in a house where I have never slept without some memory of water.' iambapoet.com/wave/21-theres…

'nobody anywhere    is perfect ask      when was the last time objectivity came off the shelf in the spaces        between living take a long hard look at yourself there is always space       to give' iambapoet.com/wave/21-s-rees…

'From under low clouds spreading from the south The red sun drops slow to night’s waiting mouth. Rush lamps are lit; the guards changed on the walls; Supper will not be served in the Great Halls ... ' iambapoet.com/wave/21-robin-…

' ... the sky opened up in proud baptism, drenched me in tears and I opened my mouth, let the rain fill me, watched the rot of me wash away, let myself die one last time, and woke, finally, to the cries of the magpies' iambapoet.com/wave/21-perry-…

'I miss those tranquilisers sometimes wish I’d kept the ones they slipped in a small paper envelope for my test night at home when the ward went up in smoke ... ' iambapoet.com/wave/21-moira-…

'The goats and the sheep retreated to the hilltops, watched as the racing spate tore the banks asunder, watched as the carcasses were tumbled down the valley, watched as the pretty footbridge wrenched itself to pieces.' iambapoet.com/wave/21-mark-c…

'He is the berry-stained wooden spoon as long as my arm, the sticky muslin, dripping. He is the jam-saucer, nestled in the ice box. He is pectin, like quiet magic.' iambapoet.com/wave/21-marie-…

'You’re wondering if I miss him, if I miss his hand on my arm, if his voice is fading. It’s in the sparrow’s call, ten chisel clangs, a bicycle bell.' iambapoet.com/wave/21-maggie…

'In 1941, in Durban, those hands opened a letter that said his parents, brothers, brothers’ wives and children had all been shot. Somehow his hands continued brushing shaving cream on his chin ... ' iambapoet.com/wave/21-kelly-…

'We didn’t see the papers that compared it to the Somme. Pre-mobile, we had no means of contact over ravaged fields. I never found out why I ended up in the rescue van. Might have been something in the whizz.' iambapoet.com/wave/21-joe-wi…

'Whose gadget filmed us tilt our moon-faces down to the mica path? A thin, pixilated sliver of mind let loose on the raised bog made skylarks crouch from their songs to cover nests hidden by heather stems.' iambapoet.com/wave/21-jane-r…

'Eyes trained on the ground, he could be looking with young eyes again, when life was fierce, and any evening wheels could carry a friend, a foe, a flame, himself.' iambapoet.com/wave/21-gillia…

'your daughters take spoons to devour the cakes we brought propped on round white plates they remind me of the palm-sized paving stones we pocketed last night on our walk home' iambapoet.com/wave/21-fred-s…

'This is co-operation, not discipline: no goosestep, no chorus line. You flap when you want to, I’ll station keep for lift, my flap lifts the next guy. We see, we use, vortices, whorls, forces invisible to the grounded.' iambapoet.com/wave/21-bob-pe…

' ... fists   slammed doors endless beige schooldays to the large-wheeled pram    still I slept    loose-limbed cells settling into forgotten patterns sun warming my blood' iambapoet.com/wave/21-andrea…

A gentle reminder to the six remaining poets who've yet to send in their completed submissions for wave twenty-two of iamb ~ poetry seen and heard – the April 15th deadline is just ten days away. Please try to get everything over to 𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕜 𝔸𝕟𝕥𝕠𝕟𝕪 𝕆𝕨𝕖𝕟 by this date. Thank you. 🙏🏻