A G Parker is a London-based writer, editor and hedgewitch. Their fiction appears or is forthcoming in Mslexia, Elevator Stories, Mooky Chick and Clover & White. Their poetry has been published in literary magazines including Sufi Journal, Aeva, Daily Drunk, Sage Cigarettes, Prismatica and Earth Pathways, and they are a regular content contributor to A Writer in Morocco, where they write about the creative process. Their essay on disability representation in fiction, 'Wheelchairs and Wyverns' is due to be published by Human/Kind Press in their upcoming anthology. In 2020 they started a mindful writing workshop, A Wave in the Heart: Poetic Connection with Vishwam Heckert, which enables people to explore their inner Self through creativity. To purchase their short fiction, read more of their poetry, and for editorial services, tarot reading, smudge sticks, and more visit their website and shop:
The same song that trembles mountains
shudders between goddess thighs and coaxes drops
of forest dew along gentle curves of leaf. Rising,
falling, cresting waves of harmony catch and spill
sunlight across the waters of the earth.
In this one, conclusive bubble, I abide.
Each breath becomes a sweet refrain with which my blood dances
and my bones blaze, streamed with light.
How blessed am I to have the undertones of gravity?
Lowing cycles of the earth glide under soaring whirls of spirit,
shuddering thunder upward,
cracking open that ragged belly of sky with throated roar
to loose droplets, bursting with magic,
letting them spill upon a land so lightning-burnt, skin-taut and weary.
So easy it would be in this moment
to fly along the chords of sunset
and disappear into the richest vast of night.
Universal Notes © A. G. Parker
As I walk, I try to tread so softly
nature thinks I am a part of it.
A heron amidst a bed of reeds
hides its head,
begging silently to be left to its own devices,
spotted only because mine is tucked away in a pocket.
I walk, noting which of the steep brambled banks
will be full of berries in a handful of months,
spilling plump reds and purples onto
the tufts of grass by the riverbank.
Coots pick their way through the borage and nettles,
their yellow-green legs lifted and raised
in awkward motion
and I want to say to them,
Yes, that is how I feel when I walk along the city streets.
Awkward. Missing an element.
As I near home, a tumble of spices drift
along the river with the wind,
reminding me to step softly,
and to tread some of my journey back into my city life.
Quiet Steps © A. G. Parker
This wind has come to sweep the tremblings of mountains,
the shudder of far-distant stars into my heart,
to bear the longings of peat and woodsmoke and valley air into my lungs.
This wind comes with the richness of the blood of the setting sun
as it sets fire to hidden pastures.
This wind has come to scatter the notes of a willow’s song into my hair,
to leave ocean spray clung to my skin, to blow the cracks in a cloud-
fettered sky into the caves of my eyes.
This wind has come with the roar of the desert,
to smooth my bones with the roughness of its tongue,
keeping them strong and honed and ready.
This wind has come to kindle fire in my heart,
salt the blood in my veins,
lace the tread of my step with the power of ancient ways
that are spun and bundled around the land and back into my body.
This wind has come
in the name of rewilding.
This Rewilding Wind © A G Parker 2020
the crisp chilled air
that sweeps over your skin
and rattles the leaves in the path through
the oath you’d sworn
the autumn before
to be wild
and windswept and free.
The clear tread of light
that cuts from the horizon
sharpens your senses –
so dulled by summer’s hot breath –
brings that autumn wind which
whispers, Be wild,
You feel the tremors of the earth ask,
Can I take a little more
of that weight
That flesh looks mighty
heavy on your bones.
Autumnal Reclamation © A G Parker 2019
Echoes of autumns long past stir
the burnt umber secrets concealed within your bones and flesh.
Damp forest leaves under foot
release the scents of summer brewed,
of lingering light –
a magic you’ll keep wrapped inside
as autumn’s extravagance
spreads its wings
and envelops the land
The Reds and Golds of Earth Mother’s Cloak © A G Parker
I saw the steep mountain pass in the distance
and knew that summit
required me to discard unwanted things.
I would need more gravity
I left things that shone draped like wintry ornaments
on fingers of gorse and soul-fire heather
In return, I gathered courage amongst those sharp tongues and dirt-clad sinews
on the ground, I laid swathing fabrics and skinned myself to vulnerability.
When the dust cleared, my heart filled the dusk ahead with light
I spat embittered expectations and allowed tears of all that might have been to fall into twilight,
it licked at the wounds and spun me a peace-lined cloak to drench my fevered need and, sated, I left that behind too.
next I shook out my bones,
left them to splinter on the ground under following soles
those that built me were left as an offering by the roadside
when I reached the peak I saw all I’d released, strewn and consumed
by the elements
and all that remained of me yawned and swelled and hung itself out over the cosmos,
creating the universe
atom by atom.
Intuit © A G Parker
the wind will whisper secrets
through rushing boughs,
roots will imbue murmured wisdom
humming soft thrums
through the soles of your feet.
if you wait, abide,
the earth will tremble sweet refrains
through veins of leaf,
and the husky truths of bark
will croon sweet against your spine.
this land has hidden
journeys to carve
into your skin
Inspiration © A G Parker
gold slips from the harvest sky
wends its way ‘round leaf and bough
skips with brushing lips across the waves
and burrows – shoots! – in leaps and bounds
from roots to grain
tripping its laughing path
skimming the earth,
making the whole land and mirroring waters
a sphere of butter-yellows
and all the refractions of the sun
swept up and round again.
Everything We See Is Sunlight © A G Parker 2018
Shed summer skins and add them to the cobwebs
that cocoon your stone walls.
Let autumn leaves preside over thatching,
laying crimsons and golds against its cheek,
keeping the warmth in,
the cold out.
Gather colours from the ground and trees and sky
for soon there will be none,
so lost will the world be in monochromes and frozen silhouettes.
Tuck those colours in,
nestle amongst them,
fill your belly with sunlight,
for soon wild winds will roar and tumble
and churn it all,
and into their chaos
we can step from our door and bellow
and retreat once more.
Settle In © A G Parker 2018
let these be nights of howling moon
and silent hare
let sage-smoked skin slip
under night’s cloak of ink
and seek tongues tangled
let wild ones walk the land
and their bare feet crush
from autumn’s scattered spoils
and spill their scents
in blustering night winds
let the quiet rage of inner hearths burn on
wrapped in bones
and autumn’s song
let there be gentle
let autumn’s lunacy dance on
Autumnal Rites © A G Parker 2018
the earth says,
offer me your last breath
I shall give you another
Offerings © A G Parker