Steve Ely

Steve Ely teaches creative writing at the University of Huddersfield, where he also directs the Ted Hughes Network. His collections of poetry include Englaland, The European Eel, Lectio Violant and, most recently, Lives of British Shrews.

CERTHIA:            creepy post chicxulub convergent evolution    counter-shadedneoavian therapod winding the spiral rhytidome    lichened bark-back    breast luminouslike lard    and a crescent of bill    scissoring to...

Poem: ‘Jörmungandr’

Steve Ely, 6 May 2021

Lightweight Thor, struggling to finishhis pint, outwrestled by the cat. Off fishingwith Hymir for flatties and sperm whales.Hymir picking brandlings from the trickling filter.Thor lopping an ox-head in the cow-pat field.They lowered their rods in the abyssopelagic,opposite peg 88. Hymir, bored, nowt biting.Thor looks across, excited – feels like he’s gotsummat on. Churning water,...

Poem: ‘John’s & Sam’s’

Steve Ely, 22 October 2020

Two brothers, Ad and Rude olfDassler. Best götzendämmerungtraining shoes in the wholeof the Teutoberg Forest, as wornby Owens and Luz – oh, the brownand the yellow ale! Hide Hickler!de Nazification, de fraternization,de rise of FIFA and de IOC.Canaan able, Puma, La MarqueAux 3 Bandes. King – Pele, Cruyff,Maradona. Copas – Franz, Michel,Zizou. In a twist of fate, the...

Poem: ‘No Repentance’

Steve Ely, 24 January 2019

The bayonet tip wouldn’t bite at first. Scraped, slid off, like his vest was made of mithril. Lothlorien, Gonvilnd Keys. A gift from the Lady, or Arron Banks. Barings Bank. The plunderous karats of Antwerpus Loup. The bayonet tip wunt bite in the thick-seamed ephod, its armour of urin and bummin. Deep bruzing, dribling facets. Sum wailing: Paedo/haemo-philiac sadness. Bayonet tip at...

Poem: ‘Werwolf’

Steve Ely, 5 March 2015

At bay in wounded country, panting across the loping snowfield for sanctuary of pines. Hounds bungling the line through folds of worried sheep, discharge of oaths and anxious shotguns barking off the trail. Torn throats and sucked blood: constables, collaborators, conscripts and their whores. From disembowelled cottage to massacred farmyard, the identikit’s identical: bristling...

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