Poems by Andy Conner

Food For Thought


Love In…




Andy Conner is a Birmingham, UK-based poet and educator, with a long track record of performing his work nationally and internationally. His work has also featured in numerous publications. His credits include BBC Radio 4, Jaipur Literature Festival and India International Centre. Recent publications include Ancient Paths (June 2019), Muse India (May 2020), Setu Bilingual (May 2020), The Bombay Review (June 2020), Dissident Voice (June 2020), Tree House (July 2020) and Mad Swirl (July 2020).





On my recent trip

to Gujarat


I took


pretty photographs


of Modhera



The White Desert


and other pretty places




the image

I can’t delete

from my heart


my hard drive


is of a ragged street child

at Vastrapur Lake

who stepped out

from the promenading crowd



his left

index finger

into the stifling

late afternoon




and drew

a rectangle

to take

an imaginary selfie


with me


© Andy Conner

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Food For Thought



‘A poem was never worth as much as a dinner’



                                                Joseph Berchoux, poet, his works include ‘La Gastronomie’




as a poet

prudently healthy

in rickety, food bank Britain 


(and is the rest of the

well stocked world

any different?)


I don’t have a guilty conscience

but I feel conscientiously guilty


if my words could really be eaten


I would write



if every verbal flourish

could nourish


those who are rumbling

for a bellyful more than culture

those picked clean

by vultures


and there’s the rub

the salt in the wound

grind it in deeply

(we absorb it all so deeply)

my fine company

of budget line activists

breadline raconteurs


(I’m not trying to cod you

my situation

is anywhere near the worst)








of solid Irish staples

potatoes and milk

not the faintest scrape of famine

in his wholesome words



cruelly organic

the leanest meat



no time for pretty packaging




                                       spaghetti lines

                                                                                    to the very end of the horizon




                                                    easily digestible

                                                                                                                  accessible to all




(and at his side


plentiful enough

to keep the little ones from howling)


Caribbean Nichols


a feast of natural sugars




an extra serving of laureates


carefully measured rations

home delivered with a joke

with compassion

citric Duffy

acid tongued fount of vitamin c


(for vit d

how about The Bard himself

a delightful punnet of summer

if ever there was one)


this menu isn’t only set in the west



compact yet perfectly balanced

all you need

in a single mouthful

served with rice paper



am I being too serious

too po-faced

dip into Ayres

scoffed at as candyfloss

who doesn’t need

an occasional sweet treat

just remember to brush your teeth


a bit too much to swallow

a dry throat croak

swig Dharker’s blessing

of H20

certified safe

for all to consume

or if so disposed

imbibe the spirits

of Thomas and Behan

two true drops of the hard stuff


if words could really be eaten

maybe it would be different


in France

where Michelin starred poets traipse away

to prosaic jobs

tales between their legs

mutts without bones


and will it leave a bad taste

if I fish for a miracle



if Plath might have

changed her mind



the unleavened verse

she was preparing


set it aside to rest

saved the oven for baking




© Andy Conner

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Love In…



in McDonalds


I saw…


A woman

with a face

like the sludge

on her boots


A man spitting

into a plastic cup


A man

chastise his son

with the C word


A woman


by hope


A backside

that never savours home cooking


A pair

of cracked statues


A guy talking into his phone

as if

he were alone


A woman


by everyone


Their kids all ate happy meals



© Andy Conner

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