Peter Merrington
Peter Merrington Poems
Means the direst love. She strokes,
folds up all leaves, limbs, dimples,
downy cheeks. Stretches, nestles,
draws to her valance. She calls,
...
The animals brought in,
thin hands cleaned,
lamps lit. The table laid,
blinds drawn, feet washed,
...
These hot dog-days: seedpods crack like
gunshot, tin roofs glint and wink where
people sleep this autumn Sunday off to
summer’s fading. Those dreams of sand,
...
It barely thundered halfway. Caught like a cough,
a fist smashed into cloth, choked air. Lead is the softest,
heavy grey scumbling of the downpipes clogged with
leaves.
...
Peter Merrington Biography
Grew up in Cape Town, South Africa. Resigned my full time post as prof of English Lit last year to do full time writing. Studying psychophonetics. Vice chairman of classic motorcycle club. Long distance motorcycle tours in Africa, USA, and Europe. studying varieties of shamanism. published my first book of fiction in 2008 and now working on sequels. I've facilitated three of the Caine Prize for African Writing workshops. Working on first collection of poems.)
The Best Poem Of Peter Merrington
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Means the direst love. She strokes,
folds up all leaves, limbs, dimples,
downy cheeks. Stretches, nestles,
draws to her valance. She calls,
summoner, Lamia, destroyer,
years’ stormbird. Sings that she
waits for her own. Greylag wings
and wild voices, wind-fashed,
reeling then to joy. Rope us in,
cable, kirtle, drawn as taut tungsten,
heart-of-hours. Light cordage;
choreia called to her song.
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2/22/2026 1:34:06 AM # 1.0.0
