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    On Becoming a Fish
    On Becoming a Fish
    On Becoming a Fish
    Ebook82 pages25 minutes

    On Becoming a Fish

    By Emily Hinshelwood

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    About this ebook

    Inspired by a series of walks around the 186-mile Pembrokeshire coastal path in West Wales, which is known for its spectacular views from cliffside paths skirting the Irish sea and the Bristol Channel, this poetry compilation is deeply engaged with environmental issues. With a keen observation of human nature in the context of this beautiful coastline, these poems feature ghosts, quarries, shipwrecks, pirates, fishermen, sailors, and monuments from the past: neolithic burial sites, forts, caves, graves, and memorials. Also present are characters conjured from history, such as the “four hundred Welsh Women wearing stovepipe hats” who foiled the last invasion of Britain at Carregwastad in 1797. Through simple and compelling language, this collection is sure to appeal to poetry lovers and environmental groups alike.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherSeren
    Release dateOct 1, 2012
    ISBN9781854115997
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      Book preview

      On Becoming a Fish - Emily Hinshelwood

      Acknowledgements

      Sandscape After Hours

      Amroth

      Each footprint a journey

      turns the beach into dreamtime.

      They collide, converge

      in silent riot of unmet strangers:

      perhaps a supple body twisting,

      flicking sand wishes to the wind

      or two minds in opposition

      slinging firm prints in terse lines

      and there, a loner shuffles

      an exotic weft into the mesh

      then falters.

      The sun’s glance burns

      into the depth of every step

      every pattern of feet on sand,

      each strand weaving dreamfibres

      without start or end

      just journeys

      and

      sweet sea havoc on the turn.

      Westphalian

      Wiseman’s Bridge

      The rocks have worn to a sauna of bodies

      draped irreverently across the shore.

      There is no thought, amongst these grey masses,

      for sleekness. The beauty is in bulges and creases.

      Sun drags over bellies, hot breasts

      tummyholes crammed with small stones

      and bits of crab. They are idle. Exude heat.

      Oblivious to the chopper grinding overhead.

      They glow. In the grand scheme of things

      they have seen mountains swell, crack, twist

      erode. They know the wind will change.

      They know they will clasp rigid, naked,

      cold, as the sea rolls over their heads.

      Lady Cave Anticline

      Saundersfoot

      Anticline – an arch or upfold in rocks, generally produced by the

      bending upwards of rock beds under pressure from the sides.

      He’s bowing to her all the way from the harbour

      head down, eyes lowered, every pace along the beach

      bending to a shell to smell its scent, then casting it off

      if it’s not divine enough.

      She is still relatively young,

      though pressured on all sides

      forced to bend and arch.

      Those that lay on her have gone,

      and she is stiff as whalebone.

      He moves in slow silence until he picks a yellow cone shell,

      still glistening. He sniffs it, flicks his tongue to taste its ridges,

      feels with large fingers the tiny aperture, the shiny liplike columella,

      then he strides to Lady Cave Anticline.

      She has never had such a visitor.

      All others have gawped at her broken spine,

      tossed theories like a ball

      measured, scraped,

      talked about her.

      He gently rubs a small hole into her tight, stressed folds,

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