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Purple Plane edit 3 – Mouthy Tour – Bea Udeh

20 Sep

Next January I will be 8
The same as my brother, Chinua
Actually, by the time I am 8 he will already be 9
It’s his birthday next month

I’m not quite sure what present to get him
I’m not quite sure if he’s been a good brother to me all the time
He can run faster than me.
He always gets to choose the biggest slice of mum’s banana and walnut bread.

He gets to stay up 15 minutes later than me at bedtime.
That’s like…forever.
I am always a good brother to him. Sometimes.
I let him beat me at chess and play with my Thundercats, Eye of Thundera

When I grow up,
I’m going to eat a whole banana cake to myself
When I grow up
I am going to be a
A rock star
The first brown Dr Who

I am going to design a plane that will squiggle through the sky
Leaving purple contrails to draw doodles way up high
My plane will fire water bombs on houses down below
Quenching flames to save multicoloured souls

My mum says that life is the bitter Kola nut
shared at family gatherings
Life is sweet In my playground,
Like the orange massacred by pudgy fingers

In my playground,
making a paper plane is easy
You really need to focus, fold it very carefully
In the middle, here
Then the wings
And here
Then again like this on both sides

My aunty likes songs by a little man
formerly known as Symbol.
He sings about laughing on a Purple Plane
Not meaning to cause no pain

Blossoms fall onto crayoned paper wings
The race breezes fast against my one sibling
Bickering is only a whisper when we both play
Sometimes I wish Chinua’s plane wouldn’t win

I saw the grown up news on the telly the other day
There was a man who was sent to prison
For killing his six children in a house fire

That made me think of Dr Who’s tardis.

It happened just down the road
round the corner from our house
Near our gymnastics
That made me wonder –
‘Not a very good thing to do to your children

My mum likes to throw our unloved toys
in the tip or take them to a charity shop
Making room for new toys our cousins give at Christmas.
Maybe I will get Dr Who’s sonic screwdriver
And use it to make things start all over.

Maybe that man should have taken his children to a charity shop
So that they could be fostered like my friend Robert at school

I know a boy who has behaviour issues
I think that man has behaviour issues

Glued on the side of my paper plane
Are chilli seeds for rocket fuel
Jumbo felts fill broad purple strokes
Disguising pink love hearts my mum stuck on each wing.

Soaring through the doodled sky
Down below Derby is a postcard fly-by
I draw 9 square windows,
to fly Mum and Chinua and me

Plus the ghosts of those 6 children
to forget about the pain
just to laugh and enjoy my
purple plane.

Hayley Green – How to Open a Can of Fish – Mouthy Tour

7 Sep

I’ve been fishing

in a bucket of buttons.

I wasn’t alone –

we used our faces as bait,

tossed lines across the internet,

knotted seaweed

and laid in wait.


We’re searching for beauty in a keyboard,

first dates on laptops.

Top prospects, a shopping list

of cyber women

of cyber women

of cyber women.


Spoken word doesn’t mean anything in this sea

but a well timed wink is poetry…



Chloe was a scientist.

So I planted flowers in molecules,

told her to find them;

She got on a plane to Ukraine

and never came back.

One down –


it’s a numbers game;

Emily liked games.

We played solitaire for a week

but I knew we’d never meet.

Crossed her off my list

of cyber women

of cyber women

of cyber women


of men pretending to be women.


Nicola was an old man with a beard.

Charlotte didn’t have a beard but was no longer a fish.

Janet told me her name was Zoe

and Zoe…


We fell in love over phone calls at midnight,

a twix and dairylee dunkers.

Dunked into real –

reeled me in

and left with me with nothing but a lie.


Zoe should have stayed online.


Heather thinks she knows how it feels to have scars –

tells me so in her opening.

HotGirl23 wants a poem.

LezzyLizzie wants a poem.

Blondebarbie wants a poem.

Wants a poem

Wants a poem

Wants a poem.


Here’s how to open a can of fish:

Hi, I’m Michelle,

I read your profile and you seem nice.

I’m honest,



like writing,

music production,

techonological repair,

Family Guy

and American Dad.

I’m looking for a long term girlfriend

but new mates are great too.

I’d like to chat and get to know you?


Shame her face wasn’t bait I wanted to be caught by –


I don’t want to be caught anymore.

There’s plenty of fish

but I’m tired of swimming

in waves of

cyber women

of cyber women

of cyber women.