Miles Hammond
Poetry in Motion
NHS fundraiser poster series
A motion poster series exploring the relationship between poetry and design.

A3 prints available for purchase with a percentage of each order being donated to NHS related charities.

£25 for 1
£40 for 2
£75 for full set
Free P&P

Printed on 190gsm paper
Posters will be sent unframed

Email me here to place an order, please reference poster(s) and quantity.

Poems used →
Still Life - Roberto Tejada

We’d often
been included in

the weather, whose
changes (as in the

still, portending
darknesses of after

noon) were hardly
evident, if even

manifest at all.
The August rain

over Mixcoac
& the deadening

of all aspect
at a distance:

yet our sudden
wet bodies, firm

swelling divested
finally of shirts

& trousers, left
beside turbid

footprints on
the tiled floor;

this tongue, these
lips the lightning

over the unchartered
landscape of your

thigh: successive
terra nova to

resist the still
life of the body
Verschwunden - Richard Anders
(German original and English translation)

Now you’re ahead of, now you run after yourself and watch your back get smaller second by second. The street leads straight to the horizon where houses are just dots. Suddenly you’ve disappeared, clean out of sight. You turn: somebody is running after you. It’s you! You take to your heels. Only now you work up to the speed which, while you were after yourself, would have let you catch up. But this time it is neither fun nor in earnest. Escaped from the eyes of your pursuer you are also — except for this hot legible trace — lost to yourself.
Figures in a windswept language - Snehal Vadher

As if what I wanted to say most
would be lost in the saying
all the lines running slightly aslant
clouds and white horses grazing
wherever you look the gaze lifted
by the wind a rippling in the barley
and in the hot curtain of the atmosphere
the last hunger before it settles
on two sparrows on an earthen pot
or pine cones on a bed of pine needles
fallen as if someone had put them there
for your viewing but that is just how
pine cones fall I want to write but
the school is inside a thick fog
and the children must shout across the valley
that may have grown between them
and it is hard to read because already
the title of the grade 5 English textbook
is burning in a sooty fire lit
in the offset printing and I don’t
have a pencil and I don’t know
the spelling so I go on erasing until
the page begins to tear like a cloud
through pale pastel blue sky and the fog
inside the classroom keeps growing
and a child speaks the alphabet through tears
Superfluities - Major Jackson

This downpour of bad reasoning, this age-old swarm,

this buzzing about town, this kick and stomp

through gardens, this snag on the way to the mall,

this heap and toss of fabric and strewn shoes, this tangled

beauty, this I came here not knowing, here

to be torched, this fumbling ecstasy, this ecstasy of fumbling,
this spray of lips and fingers, this scrape of bone, this raid

of private grounds, this heaving and rocking, this scream

and push, this sightless hunger, this tattered perishing,

this rhythmic teeth knocking, this unbearable

music, this motionless grip, grimace, and groan.