Wednesday, 22 June 2011

Before I was born,

he gave me a ticket, nodded his head.

‘Get on the train,’ he sighed ‘get out of bed.

‘Pick up your feet and your rucksack.’ he said

‘Get bred!’

Funny, harsh and kind

- sort of divine -

he gave no charity, or bind,

I signed.

Hands, eyes, mouth, nose, ears,

laughter and tears;

he sent me downstairs

for ninety odd years.

Monday, 20 June 2011

Death of an Environmentalist

Pole to pole, equator, burning sun

on air and water, water even more

flooding falls a low and lulling roar.

Round, around the folly of the moon,

earth receives her fiery, far out burn;

windfall, running, falling,

feeling sore

humans winching, whirling, willful pour

nothing action midnight onto noon

shadow, shallow as their little tune

slows in summer, winter, fall;

in time

purely round and orange is the sun;

cheerful, charming earth is - in her prime

shaking, cracking, slaking, breaking down

and blue, how blue, the water in the brine.