Author: Ted Hughes

Who owns those scrawny little feet? Death. Who owns this bristly scorched-looking face? Death. Who owns these still-working lungs? Death. […]

A cool small evening shrunk to a dog bark and the clank of a bucket – And you listening. A […]

Against the rubber tongues of cows and the hoeing hands of men Thistles spike the summer air And crackle open […]

Russia and America circle each other; Threats nudge an act that were without doubt A melting of the mould in […]

Terrifying are the attent sleek thrushes on the lawn, More coiled steel than living – a poised Dark deadly eye, […]

The tractor stands frozen – an agony To think of. All night Snow packed its open entrails. Now a head-pincering […]

He loved her and she loved him His kisses sucked out her whole past and future or tried to He […]

Once upon a time there was a person He was walking along He met the full burning moon Rolling slowly […]