Liz Kendall

Biography

I’ve returned to poetry with enthusiasm after a long break, and I enjoy getting to know my local poetry community. I read at open mics in Surrey and London, and am inspired by the range of work people share. I really appreciate the supportive atmosphere and it helps me write more consistently. My main focus is the publication of ‘Meet Us and Eat Us: Food plants from around the world’, an illustrated hardback co-authored with ethnobotanist and artist Vilma Bharatan. The book celebrates food plant biodiversity through poetry, prose, and fine art photography. We hope to engage readers of a wide age range. We also have a newsletter community providing monthly exclusives from our research, recipes, and updates on the publication process, which you can join at https://meetusandeatus.co.uk. My publications include the Stickleback micro-pamphlets 'Selections from the Mongolian Death Worm Poems' and 'Winter Long, Summer Short' from The Hedgehog Poetry Press. I have work included in their anthologies 'A Little Black Book of Short Poems' and 'Poems in the Key of Hope'. My poem 'Samoa, October' is published in the Almanac 2023 from Candlestick Press. Online, I have work in Allegro and Lighten Up Online, Thimble Lit Mag, the Litfest Histories Map, and forthcoming issues of Flights and Amethyst Review.

Samples

Samoa, October In the Pacific it’s you that turns gold, not the trees. It’s you, glowing with sun like the mango, papaya, So lavishly given at breakfast; You have already entered the moon-cleansed, night-warmed sea. At home, oh at home, this would be an investment; A careful decision to reach out your hand To the scented and promising oval or armful, Praying it hasn’t caught cold on its journey, been picked too early. Tenderly carrying home the chilled, premature tropics. Here where they grow, they are warm; they are perfect: Pineapples and fruits whose names must be learned. Soursop, black-seeded, with squelchy white flesh That is sugar perfected, but textured like ooze. The leaves sprawl as they did back in Eden: Glossy, feathered, spiny, huge. I am all jaspered and topazed, coppered and gilt. The hairs on my arms; tiny blades of gold, plunged to the hilt. Liz Kendall (First published in 'Almanac 2023' from Candlestick Press) The Mongolian Death Worm Reflects on its Name Like Dolly Parton, Genghis Khan Was a true literature fan. He too saw that to read and write Was even better than to fight. There’s always slack days in a war, And reader, that’s what books are for. While Dolly gives her library To children out of love, for free, With Genghis Khan you had to pay In blood: devotion, come what may. But if your skin did not get ripped, The Uyghur-Mongolian script
 Would help you translate what was said By Mongols who were not yet dead. So Olgoi-Khorkhoi is my name In lands where Genghis raised his game And changed his name from Temujin. “Intestine worm”; that’s what mine means. It’s accurate, I grant that’s so. But am I flattered? Reader, no. Liz Kendall (First published in 'Selections from the Mongolian Death Worm Poems' from The Hedgehog Poetry Press) Toiling in the Flowerbeds, Summer They teach us how to style our work as play, to hum with pride in what we do all day. Their costume worn for harvesting with ease, those fluffy knickerbockers of the bees. Liz Kendall (First published in 'Winter Long, Summer Short' from The Hedgehog Poetry Press)

All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.