We held each other’s hand
And you kissed me on my lips
Once upon a time
Dolphins find a mate for life
And they make love, just for fun
environment
All posts tagged environment
You may never see
A poem lovely as my tree
It’s shape
It’s shade
It’s beauty
For me alone.
No picture captured by my phone.
For only In my memory
Can this vision be preserved.
Across a Surreal landscape
White defeats the green
Black naked branches
Reach towards low slung clouds
As snow flurries lash
Exposed skin on cheerful faces
We shelter in each other’s warmth
And conversations of sunshine
Promoted by
Wine, good gin and pizza.
Hidden behind backyard deals
And covered with words
The whisper of truth
Is seldom spoken aloud
And while his land burned
And he worshipped his false gods
It was his people who stood
In sackcloth and ashes
Once a man of promise
Indeed of many promises
He failed to deliver
And so lost our trust
Can trust be restored
Do words still hold value
Once they have been used
In lies and deception
The murmur is building
Maybe the whisper
Once buried in rhetoric
Is to be shouted at last
As we the people
Speak for this land and its inhabitants
And demand more
Than just ashes and promises
A short story composed without the assistance of the humble letter ‘A’
I slowly pulled my fingers through the golden flower. Intrigued, I noticed droplets of liquid forming on my fingertips. I stuffed my fingers into my mouth. The sweetness flowed over my tongue.
If this is how to survive in the bush, I think I will be fine.
Things took unlikely turns from this point. “Try this” my instructor grunted. He gently pulled white worms from the split bowl of the tree. My bowels fired. I’m not going to keep this down.
It got progressively worse. Things with legs, things without legs, more with legs, forced upon me.
But I survived!
My pride in completing the course is only outweighed by this complete conviction – If I lose myself in the bush, I will only ever consume the flowers.
I’ve seen it in the bottom of a tea-cup.
In the way the bones have fallen,
And in the future revealed by the Elder Futhark.
It’s written in the stars;
In new migratory paths of the Eastern Curlew.
And reinforced by the southward movements
of the Alaskan Timber Wolf.
The solitary Blue Whale sings about this end.
Maybe I’m entering my menopause?
Perhaps it’s an epigenetic thing?
Whatever it is, its not a single trigger.
I’m getting angry, at times, violent.
At other times simply disappointed,
in your failure to understand.
I can’t provide you with support,
not for much longer anyway.
I’m changing and it’s permanent.
We cannot continue this relationship –
not the way it’s currently arranged.
You are going to have to change your ideas,
Or I will not be here for you – your choice.
You need to embrace new energies.
Tidy up my oceans and the water I provide.
Stop polluting my soils with plastic and poisons…
… just clean up after yourselves!
If not –
I’m going to have to ask you to leave.
Some of this
Less of that
Fear of few
Love of lots
Plenty to give
Thankful to receive
Words that build
Ears that listen
Hearts that sing
Those who laugh
Hands that help
Spirits that soar
Colours that matter
Differences that don’t
Friendship to warm
Music to soothe
Places to see
Those I’ve seen
Paths that meander
Poetry is my aeroplane 