Poetry by Rhys Hughes
THE PSYCHOLOGIST SAID
“You have a high IQ,”
declared the psychologist
and I misheard
and thought he said “haiku”
which surprised me very much.
“Where is it?” I cried
in a panic and he laughed
as he replied, “Inside your head,”
and I clutched my skull
in both hands and tried
to understand how a short and
exquisitely pithy poem
had ended up in there.
Back home I stared
in the mirror but saw
nothing out of place on my face
and no lumps on my skull.
I hope for my sake that
the psychologist was mistaken!
Japanese pressure
waiting to burst on paper—
haiku in my head.
LASSI COME HOME
I had a drink
made from yoghurt and spices
and fruit. So cute
it was! and I loved that
beverage like a brother, but times
were hard and I was poor
and I couldn’t pour
anymore of that delicious liquid
down my throat.
I had to sell it to a wealthy Duke.
Away it went
and I never expected to see it
again until we
both were heaven-sent after our
demise. How unwise
a notion! for this potion was loyal
to me and escaped
it’s aristocratic prison and made
it’s way across the land
back to fill the glass
in my hand.
Come home, Lassi.
Lassi, come home.
Rhys Hughes has lived in many countries. He graduated as an engineer but currently works as a tutor of mathematics. Since his first book was published in 1995 he has had fifty other books published and his work has been translated into ten languages.
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