Butterfly Heart

Down to the creek you came
Flaxen hair and red-handled fishing net
On a wet Wednesday morning.

The moths and crickets scampered away
Sound of galoshes and sheen of yellow raincoat
Scaring them away to the undersides of heavy leaves

But not I. Slowed and love-drunk by the sound and colour
I fluttered above the grass-tip spears
And drank your colours in through my minds proboscis

Spying me your arm whips back, you swing your net
The sun appears and I watch a glorious backlash of droplets
Supernova as you capture my butterfly heart

poem by Ashley Hawkes
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Getting Mugged for Christmas

Getting mugged for Christmas
Christmas girls and boys
We're getting mugged for Christmas
Round yon virgin toys

Homeward Christmas folly
Never felt so good
Coming to an alley
IN YOUR NEIGHBOURHOOD

FIIIIIVE Golden coins...
Was all we had
They tried to take them
So I smashed one in the face
And I screamed like a partridge in a Puriri

(Return to original tune)
My best friend fell over
And they kicked him in the back
I was not too sober

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poem by Ashley Hawkes
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Little Harry

Harold was an evil child
Conceived on a stolen train
Born in a sack from a prostitutes back
He had murder on his brain

As a babe he took the greatest joy
In spitting on his Mother’s breast
He would wait till she was near asleep
Then scream to break her rest

At Two he strangled an alley cat
And orphaned all her kittens
At Three he murdered all of those
With blood he felt quite smitten

Four and Five were dreadful years
As Harold only worsened
To become at the tender age of six
A most formidable person

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poem by Ashley Hawkes
Added by Poetry Lover
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