Monday 22 July 2013

The Natural World

A Minor Miracle

I watched it swell and grow
filled with the promise
of good things to come.

Finally, today,
it burst into bloom.

Beauty on my window sill.
Another minor miracle.

© 2005


Viruses Rule OK

Viruses rule, ok?
When every last creature we've managed to kill,
they'll still be here to make us ill,
we just have to swallow this bitter pill: 
we're outclassed at the end of the day.


© 2003



Along the Seashore

Waves, whispering on the sand
slowly encroaching
falling back
move miniscule grains
losses and gains

bring nourishment
to hungry mouths
of crabby crustaceans
wiggling worms and
a multitude of molluscs

not forgetting the hoards and hoards
of hidden, almost invisible, things
who wait with assorted maws and jaws
for what the sea will bring.

Life along the seashore.

©  2002


A Land of Contrasts

Andes, a sprawling dragon, slumbering as it grows,
the length of South America, land of vast diversity:
from Atacama desert sands to snow fields and steaming jungle.
Jagged peaks tower over salt flats and caustic lakes
where a flock of pink flamingoes - feathered, stilted Riverdancers -
move en masse, their dance of love, and never miss a beat.
Torrent ducklings dance with death, plunging into freezing water,
tumbling, racing over rocks, yet somehow they survive.

Plucky little Humboldt penguins run the gauntlet through a horde
of nursing sealions, penguin eaters; bravely elbowing their way,
trampling the recumbent bodies, rushing past the snarling mouths,
risking all to reach the sea for fish to feed their young;
a sea  wherein another danger, orca - foe of penguins, glide
and leap, their snapping hungry jaws a harbinger of death.
A sheet of ice, the size of Wales, births a glacier, slowly flowing
ruthlessly, inexorably, into the southern ocean.

On rocky heights, viscachas, tiny fur-robed, rodent monks,
warm themselves, greet the sun, and mutter benedictions.
Zorros, abhorring housework, move their pups from den to den,
chased always by the guanaco who hate them with a passion.
Mists arise, revive the lofty cacti which burst into bloom,
a tasty treat for guanaco; somewhere a bromeliad
flowers once in thirty years, in hope of pollination
by humming birds which seem to thrive in disparate locations.

Flocks of jewel-bright macaws, raucous in their conversation,
fly beneath an azure sky, catch the eye and stun the senses,
Elsewhere, spectacled bears, weighing all of forty stones,
eat bromeliads, raise their young, high up in the tree tops,
while kodkod, secretive and shy, birdlike in the canopy,
kudu, tiny foot high deer dwarfed by giant greenery,
puma, sloths - green with algae, armadillos, countless creatures,
touch the heart and fill the mind with wonderment and awe.

© 2004


Benign Indifference

Oft she turns her wrinkled face,
pirouettes through starlit space;
agitated her demeanour,
aging legless barrelina.
Now and then she belches, spews,
shakes and quakes and so renews.
All is cyclical in motion,
life and earth and sky and ocean
living, dying, rising, falling,
though to us it seems appalling
for, short lived, to life we cling
while nature simply does it's thing.


"Gazing up at the stars, for the first time, the first,
I laid my heart open to the benign indifference of the universe."
-Albert Camus (1913-1960)


© 2005


Bug Poo I and II


1
Ants on a fig tree
farming bugs.

Diligent, they watch for
the moment of emergence,

greedily relishing
bug poo, honeydew.


II

Dust mites, invisible,
skin scales their bread;
irritate intensely
pooing in your bed.


© 2007


Fox

The fox is often hunted
which leaves some folk affronted.
The handsome inspiration
for so much altercation,
is either loved or hated,
its nature much debated.
Often it is thought to be
just out on a killing spree,
indiscriminate in its slaughter
slaying far more than it oughta.
No, my friend, not so.

It's rep has been corrupted;
if not interrupted
it buries all it slays,
a store for leaner days.
We fail to understand
it has its future planned;
with little ones to raise and feed
such behaviour isn't greed.
Necessity drives every creature,
avarice is a human feature
as our waistlines show.

© 2003


From My Window


A dark twiggy tracery
stands stark against a sky
of powder blue.

Beyond, the early morning light
illuminates the high rise homes
lending warmth and color to
the erstwhile pallid walls.

On such a day as this our eyes
make nonsense of the temperature
and fool us into wondering
if Spring is here at last.

© 2004


Living Dragons


Dragons are alive and well and living
on the earth.  They walk on water, swim
the seas, fly through jungles, tree to tree.

In every kinds of habitat,
from steamy swamp to desert ground
dragons still are found.

Defences, honed through countless ages,
seem mundane, less dramatic
than myth allows,
yet equally mysterious:

armor, often horned or scaly, sometimes
multi-colored; camouflage perfected
over time. Bitter blood squirted
from the eyes, a challenge giving pause.

With flicking tongues some scent their prey,
retrieving molecules of odor,
tasting in advance.  Hollow teeth spit
venom in the face of opposition.

Long jumpers, sprinters, acrobats,
free diving experts, dressed to kill;
James Bonds of their kingdom,
dragons of today.

© 2005





Luna

O sweet and gentle moon;
Luna, goddess of the night,
imparting fecundity for
all who move within your sway
and dwell beneath your light -
would we be here at all without you?
Life, it seems, is all about you.
Keep us in your sight.

©  2003





Misnomer

I have a Christmas cactus
with flowers big and red.
It rarely flowers at Christmas though;
no matter how it's fed.

It flowers in November
or even early Spring.
Sometimes both; it seems to be
quite keen to do its thing.

It's on my kitchen window ledge,
north facing but quite bright,
and overlooks the traffic -
not the most enchanting sight.

Last December it gave forth,
spectacular and gay,
and then it wowed me once again
on St Georges day. 

© 2006


Mostly Fish

Why are dolphins drawn to us?
Hmm, let me think...

A creature of high intelligence
with mostly fish for company...

Yep. That would do it.

© 2005


Offstage.


August;
summer should be centre stage yet
blustery winds bow flowers down
and dark clouds mask the sun.

Rain;
enough to chill the bones of those
who dare to make appearance in
their fine, fair-weather garb.

Trees
perform their dance, their dalliance,
with veils of varied hues of green
bewitching those who watch.

Birds,
bedraggled on their perches, seem
disheartened and disconsolate,
their songs unsung for now.   

Sol
from time to time looks out from
where he waits impassively until
it's time for him to shine.


© 2006


Perfidy
Daughters plot behind their father's back, sister slays sister and steals her lover, and a family are torn asunder - not Shakespeare but everyday stories from the world's largest wolf pack living in Yellowstone National Park.



The dark queen was beautiful but merciless and violent,
her first love was shot but she soon was re-allied.
Now she is dead and her new lover heartlessly
rules in her stead with her sister by his side.

It's a story of infamy, unscrupulous conspiracy,
of backbiting treachery and family intrigue;
where sister slays sister and takes on her family
and worse yet, the dead sister's lover was in league.

His headship is challenged, he fights off his enemy.
Now, it would seem, his position is secure
but a stranger appears and attracts the leader's daughters;
he's big and he's handsome, his intentions far from pure.

Caught inflagrante, the daughters go back home again
the stranger then vanishes, for a while at least
but always his presence is there in the memory
like a nasty smell, or the spectre at the feast.

One day he's back there, seeking to consolidate.
The daughters are tempted and go with him once more
along with some others, deserters from the family;
they form a rival faction. This could lead to war.

This isn't history, nor is it Shakespearian;
it happens quite frequently, it could be last week.
A family is torn apart, mercilessly severed,
in a Yellowstone wolf pack, up at Druid Peak.


© 2004


Philosophical Ramblings.

Does the butterfly know courage
when first it leaves the cocoon?
Having left it's earthbound pedestrian life
of eating, eating, and yet more eating
to hibernate for many days
on the underside of a leaf
to break down into genetic soup
it now has to start all over again
struggle free, out into the light
stretch its wings and soar on high.
How brave is the butterfly?

Does the lioness know courage
when she faces the male who comes along
and wants to mate and sees her young as
a threat to his own genetic line;
when she drives him away with tooth and claw
to defend her young ones sired elsewhere
does she stop to think "Oh, this is scary"
or just act purely on instinct?
What courage she shows in human terms
but a mother's desire to defend her young
is pretty instinctive under duress.
How brave is the lioness?

A baby bird has to leave the nest
learn to fly and fend for itself
and we put it down to instinct
but is it afraid of the cat and the owl
the predators all around?
Does it have to pluck up courage
to launch itself off that bough?
To struggle at length with its very first worm
which must be a little daunting
and we call it nature, take it for granted
that's just what creatures do.
Is talk of courage absurd?
How brave is the little bird?

I ask because I'm human,
and humans like to know.
We want to know what makes us tick
why we do the things we do
or why we sometimes don't.
Is courage merely an instinct
born of the need to survive?
or is it something we can control
by an act of will, determination?
We like to think we're so brave
ripping our fears assunder
but are we really? I wonder.


© 2002

Seventy Per Cent.


Oh, molecules of H2 0 , by my flesh now employed,
ancient and perpetual, just how far have you been?
Did you hail from outer space as an icy asteroid,
melting in our atmosphere by human eyes unseen

or from the planet's molten core when it was first volcanic?
No doubt you've sailed the heavens to refresh the earth below.
Were you in the iceberg that sank the proud Titanic?
Perhaps you've graced the frozen face of Everest, as snow.

How many living creatures have you helped to keep alive?
How many trees owe part of their existance to your aid?
Where will you be tomorrow? Will you watch as dolphins dive,
or be in someone's whisky, or a cooling lemonade?

I'd like to think you've floated down in petals on the breeze
and fed the mighty whale sharks with plankton in the deeps.
I haven't travelled very far, or seen the seven seas,
but seventy per cent of me remembers them, and weeps.

© 2003

Simply Surviving

What is life to a lichen?
This marriage of algae and fungi lives,
absorbing minerals from the rock,
on which it sits indefinitely,
its growth rate infinitesimal:
perhaps an inch in a century!
I would lose the will to live.
Yet there it sits with no ambition
other than to be.

© 2004


Summer Is Over

Summer is over; a damp
Autumnal chill pervades
the air, creeping unbidden
through every gloomy
room and hall,
to settle round my feet.

Such light as enters,
far from bright, casts
no shadow on the wall
and seems reluctant to be here.
Outside the house now berries hang
where once bright flowers grew,
leaves begin to change their hue;
no more the songbird cries.

Skies are grey and leaden;
gone the sun kissed blue
of recent days. Amazed,
I sit and watch the changes,
in myself and in the world,
as life around me dies.

© 2004


Natural Childbirth

Borneo. A metal cage. Somewhere in the jungle.
I watched a rescued female orang-utan give birth;
watched as she nibbled through the hefty cord that joined them,
saw how she thoroughly yet gently cleaned its fur.
Large limpid eyes regarded those who stood around them
but nobody distracted her from this instinctive task.
I thought of a human birth, contrasted it with this one:
sterile conditions, pain relief and mask.

Nothing came between them, this mother and her baby,
no-one took the infant creature off to be appraised.
For four or maybe six years she'll keep her offspring with her,
teaching it to be an orang learning orang ways:
what to eat or not and how to build a nest for sleeping,
things it's important for the little one to know.
It strikes me that education has its priorities
but how to be human comes spectacularly low.

© 2007


The Colossal Squid

The colossal squid is a fearsome beast
with parrot's beak and enormous eyes.
It has arms so strong it strives with whales
and grows to an unbelievable size.

It's tentacles are armed with hooks,
swivelling claws that are razor sharp.
Once a legend, now a fact;
no more will listeners laugh or carp.

In Antarctic waters it has its home,
eating whatever swims its way;
it takes exceptional strength and size
to avoid becoming this creature's prey.

If you dream of a life on the Southern Seas
midst howling gales and cliffs of ice,
just think about the colossal squid
and stay away, is my advice.

© 2006


The Dragon Flies

The Emperor, a dragon,
emerges from his lair,
undergoes a transformation,
magic without incantation,

Doffs his armour, brown and drab
to go about his task.
Emerging now in dazzling hues
he adds some glamour to the scene.

Weak from lack of food he flies,
devouring what he can,
building strength and stamina.
The days he has are very few
to do what he must do.

In coat of brightest blue he goes
to find a mate before he dies,
with breath-arresting, death-defying,
aerial skills and expertise,
by force he takes his kingdom from
whoever ruled before.

A damsel and her lover lie
embracing, unsuspecting.
Nearby the dragon waits until
her lover leaves her there
then pounces on the hapless creature;
razor sharp, his jaws devour.

The dragon's days are numbered though.
One day a new contender comes
to challenge for dominion.
The Emperor does his best to fight
but battered, tattered wings are weak
and this time he's defeated.

Ten days were all he had to rule,
ten days of mating, fighting, feeding,
meeting every challenge while
the force of life was strong.

A brief life has the dragonfly,
once he leaves the water.

© 2004


The Rat

Of all the things that I could praise
this, this the most heroic:
the noble rat, oft much maligned,
is, of all beasts, most stoic.

Survivor of millenia
despite man's cunning ruses
rats will always be around
and have so many uses!

So many creatures feed on them
the owl and fox and cat
and yet they thrive despite it all
and multiply at that!

Oh noble rat, I sing your praise
Oh oft disparaged rodent
it seems when asked to soldier on
you didn't know what "no" meant.

When tamed and kept within a cage
or used for awful testing
we do not then despise your kind
but find you quite arresting,

a friendly and most loyal pet
intelligent and and clever
you survive where other creatures
cease from their endeavour.

So, noble rat, my work is done.
Although your name is blighted
I for one think well of you
indeed, you should be knighted!

© July 2002


The Rut

Wintry wind-swept mountainsides,
stags  begin to bellow;
autumn in the Highland glens
is very far from mellow.

Driven by an ancient urge,
eyes aflame with rage,
adorned with weeds the antlers crash
as sodden beasts engage

Back and forth with heaving flanks,
musk-laden from the mire.
One will know the spoils of war,
the other will retire;

Not for him the privilege
of passing on his seed.
It's nature's way and merciless;
only big boys breed.

Oct 2006

The Stag

He stands
panting,
his sides
heaving;

malodorous and soaking wet,
drenched with urine and with sweat,
the mighty head now bowed and yet
triumphant.

He may not last much longer;
harsh winters take their toll on those
with little left to give

and he has given everything:
strength, energy, supremacy
and, crucially, his legacy.

He's done all he can do.


© 2007



Watching Wildlife


Landlocked or freer,
animals at play;
aerial or aquatic
acrobatic the display.
Practising their life skills
swooping, diving, slipping, sliding
or simply having fun
running, jumping, floating, gliding
showing sheer irreverence
exhibiting exuberance.

Hunter and hunted
predator and prey
sometimes, this time
dinner gets away.
Who should I feel sorry for?
The hungry or the fleeing?
Impossible to choose
it's naked truth I'm seeing.
Life and death, in the raw;
nature red in tooth and claw.

© Oct 2003





Winter Sun

A weak, watery, winter sun
but strong enough to
give this fall of snow
the old heave-ho

leaving in its wake
small scattered patches
which soon will go
the way of all snow
hereabouts.

© 2004


Legend

What makes a lioness adopt a baby oryx?
That's what exercised my mind
after watching that very thing.
To see her gently lead it about,
watch over it, protect it
this was a true phenomenon
a once in a lifetime event.

People came from miles to see
this mysterious thing, this miracle
a local legend was coming true
right there in the midst of them!
The people, Kenya's Samburu,
named her Kamuniak -
it means The Blessed One,
The Miracle Lioness,
they said it meant that God had come,
as seen in Isaiah, eleven:six
"... a lion shall lie with a calf..."


But nature had not provided for this;
she simply hadn't the wherewithal
to provide for its basic needs.
Unwilling to leave it to go and hunt
she'd nothing to eat herself.
She did her best, as mothers do,
but it simply wasn't enough.
And just as things got really bad
a lion came and snatched the calf
and devoured it before her eyes.
Her distress was all too obvious -
I was witnessing a tragedy
as real as any other.

It seemed now that all was lost, 
but after feeding and gaining strength
the miracle was repeated as
not long after, on Valentine's Day,
she found and adopted another one!
So are legends born.

© 2002




The New Forest.

New Forest : old forest,
William of Normandy
rode here with his courtiers
nine hundred years ago
as wild boar and fallow deer
fled the huntsman's arrows.

Now the deer roam safely
running wild in dappled shade
and shafts of hazy sunlight
which force their way through canopies
of russet, gold and green.

Mossy banks and ferny hollows
lichen speckled ancient trees
signs of squirrels, foxes, badgers
scents of damp earth, dark and rich,
rotting leaves and new young fungus,
birdsong high up overhead
all intoxicate and charm.

Owls call: to wit? to woo!
as woodpeckers drum along,
ponies in the clearings graze
and shake their manes and tails
whinnying their welcome
of a brand new day.

© 2002




Little Fruit

Springtime proudly promised much
but summer brought its shadows;
undeveloped fruit now falls
to lie in winter meadows.

© 2005


Winter's Dreams

Frozen feathers, gently falling,
drifting silent from on high;
decorating trees and roof tops,
'neath a heavy ashen sky.

Magical and mystical,
a scene to conjure fairy tales
of unicorns and fiery dragons,
wicked queens and rugged males.

Winter is my favorite season:
fireside cosiness and dreams,
wrapped up warmly, sipping cocoa;
life's not always as it seems.


© 2005

No comments:

Post a Comment