Oceanik
Oceanik – poem by Nia Davies. Film by Lucia Sellers, music by Charlie Miles. A selection at the 2018 Film and Video Symposium.
Then spree
Website of Nia Davies, poet, editor, writer, performer
Tag: poem
June 12, 2017
Poem from new collection ‘All fours’
18
Remembered suddenly my noswaith dda attire
my trying taxonomies of sing song
my motionless carriage &/ my empathy carriage
and that I tried to strike the note of clasp-breast horror slasher maxed-out body resurrection.
At least tried my best, then.
I can’t but pity Exonymic countries
or cobbled together lucky folk, steamy flashes
and celtic music makes me tired.
I can try and declare myself friendly, but I am
terrible and to be noted, wind-slapped,
aching pussy, not sure what to want.
In the apples the pips burned.
Stood in the coachyard teleologic,
had a personal jesus on a pin.
That was something that was passable as sex, at least.
I suppose technicalities made this regrettable.
I have a synthetic lemon feeling about it
the way murderers like it, clean.
Maudlin is not the same as macabre.
Do whatever you like, he says,
and, I, sandalwood,
dream of the threaded lip,
the pursuit of needlework,
bicarbonate of soda citric,
hurt me hurt me
now
hold me hold me
now.
I shouldn’t have to explain.
Look at my flaws
all around my life like chickenpox.
Wondered whether I’d die like
this with a cock in my mouth, that’s
a flashback, that’s why everything has a trigger
warning now, that’s when the idea
full throttle
becomes hundreds of droplets, panic.
We weren’t sure if that went well or not,
none of us are sure whether that went well,
when I was 18,
when I was 18 oh god
This poem is from All fours, my debut collection. Out on 23rd June with Bloodaxe. More information here.
May 29, 2014
The poetry of the interpreters
My hands, I mean my head,
Curlessness, the sandal of the lady,
I coat my shoulder
Sleeve is taken away!
I prefer physical exercise in the garden of loneliness
Doctor narrated as a story the mountains of criss cross.
Don’t ask me if this is my poetry.
Are you the rower who is going to rob my life from me?
You are more lethal than cane.
Who do this sprouting?
I climbed death,
I more than a wound you can wind me.
My loneliness glasses have been shattered!
I wanted to be made available.
I am not like other autumn scissors.
This poem is brought to you by the interpreters of the Niniti International Literature Festival. I took part in the festival and the Reel Iraq translation workshop in Shaqlawa and Erbil in Kurdistan, Iraq last month. My blog about how understanding, misunderstanding and communication figure in the art of poetry translation is up on the Reel Festivals website. I am incredibly grateful to Reel and to all the people who made this encounter happen. You can read the blog here.
Found in translation at the Niniti International Literature Festival, Erbil, Iraq
Image | March 7, 2013
Poem in full colour. (Nia Davies, 2012)
December 3, 2012
Then Spree featured on Peony Moon
Periphylla Periphylla
My pamphlet Then Spree has recently been featured on the Peony Moon blog. The feature includes two poems from the pamphlet: Periphylla Periphylla and I Want To Do Everything. Go to the Peony Moon website to read more. (The photo above is of the deep sea Jellyfish Periphylla Periphylla which the poem is named after. Credit: David Wrobel).
November 5, 2012
Binders Full of Women(‘s poems)
On the eve of the US election I am extremely proud and excited to be in a binder … in this kind of binder anyway: the Binders Full of Women poetry zine project, edited and glitter-glued by Sarah Crewe and Sophie Mayer. Find out more at: http://bindersfullofwomenspoems.wordpress.com
September 14, 2012
The Gun
One of my poems – The Gun – about the pub in London’s Docklands – was published in the Morning Star’s Well Versed column yesterday. You can read the poem here. The pub is said to be one of Horatio Nelson and Emma Hamilton’s secret meeting places and there is a hidden staircase which leads to a mirrored room overlooking the Thames. Apparently one of my ancestors was a landlord in the 19th Century and when I visited with my family last year we were treated to an enthusiastic tour from the manager. I’ve since written a poem about Emma and Horatio themselves which will be published in September in Poetry Northeast.
The Gun – from their website – where you can find out more about this wonderful pub!
Then spree 