today we celebrate the 50th issue of hedgerow! the journal started as a vision of a place celebrating the small poem in its various shapes & forms, and a year later we are nearing 30,000 hits & 1000 likes on our facebook page. but numbers aside, it has been an amazing journey. thank you all for being part of it!
october’s resident artist is Alexis Rotella. find out more about the artist behind the art here — https://hedgerowpoems.wordpress.com/poet-artist-in-conversation/
with love & kindness.
even a little
Paul Smith is a poet from Worcester in the UK. Alongside poetry Paul enjoys Japanese style ink painting, building cigar box guitars and playing old time blues.
Mike Andrelczyk is currently living in Strasburg, Pa. Also lived in Los Angeles, Ca. and Lewes, De. He likes writing haiku about the ocean, potatoes, moons, plants – mostly little things except the ocean which is huge, and the moon which looks little but isn’t. Follow on Twitter @MikeAndrelczyk.
in a tangle
i plait loose ends…
this twisted life
Pat Geyer lives in East Brunswick, NJ, USA. Her home is surrounded by the parks and lakes where she finds her inspiration in Nature. She is an amateur photographer and poet.
The child who collects pebbles
cradles the bones of the earth,
gives them meaning.
She walks her own path
straight to the trees.
Jo Waterworth lives in Glastonbury, UK, where she has been writing poetry for many years. She is published in print and online, and her pamphlet of short poetry is available from Poetry Space of Bristol. You can find her blog at jowaterworthwriter.wordpress.com
barber shop mirrors
a young boy wonders
the ins and outs
of another world
the old stingray
crosses the sandbar
Simon Hanson lives in rural South Australia where he often walks the back roads down to the nearby limestone coast. Some of his haiku have been hatched on a clifftop overlooking the Great Southern Ocean and others while tiding the house overlooking the kitchen sink.
the art in this issue was brought to you by Alexis Rotella —
I’ve been playing with words since I was a toddler. I remember sitting
on our front stoop in Southwestern Pennsylvania with a handwritten
letter from Uncle Bill to my mother. I thought if I stared at it long
enough I would be able to read…