Terse Verse
This is my name for rhymes which are, like the Japanese haiku, rely on few words which say a lot.
Time
Tick tock
watch clock
age paradigm
tyranny of time
There are a few named varieties of verse - often comic in nature - which, although being very short, have set rhythm and rhyming patterns.
The most well known of these is the Limerick. Eg:
There is a young farmer called Brown
who never goes into the town;
such a bumpkin is he,
he makes love to a tree
though the splinters are getting him down.
© 2003
There is also the Little Willie, named after the subject of the first one to become famous. This should be what is sometimes called black or wry humor, or tragi-comedy. Just four lines. Eg:
One fateful day my cousin Mary
lawnmowered her pet canary.
Mary's cat though had a treat;
he loves a bowl of shredded tweet!
©2002
And then there's the Clerihew, named after the author who made them famous. Four short lines, in two rhyming couplets, the name of a famous person as the first line, the other lines being about the person. Eg:
Elvis Presley
did impress me
always rocking
seen as shocking
© 2002
Another is sometimes known as 4x4. It's four lines, one word on each line, as rhyming couplets. Like these:
staid whale's
maid tales
misses porpoise
kisses corpus
The epigram is another terse verse. Just two lines this time, the object being to make it witty, pithy:
I wondered where the golf ball went
and then it hit me.
Another fairly terse verse, and probably the hardest of the lot, is known as double dactyl, which just means that most of the lines are composed of two dactyls. A dactyl is one long syllable followed by two short ones, as in the word "murmering".
The only rhyme is in the last word of the last line of each of the two stanzas, which rhyme with each other. The other stipulation is that the first line must be a nonsense phrase, and the sixth line should be one double dactylic word.
Eg:
Milly geewillikins!
Scientists utilise
artistic properties,
having a go.
Looking like soccer balls,
Buckminsterfullerine's
spherical molecules.
Whaddya know.
© 2003
All of these are much harder to write properly than they may appear, as the rhythm and the rhyme schemes are all important. Brevity, too, is not always easy to achieve.
CLS
2003
Sunday, 15 September 2013
Sunday, 8 September 2013
Thoughts Spoken and Unspoken
Thoughts Unspoken
Wow! take a look at that!
Ooh, he's rather nice,
not too thin and not too fat.
She wouldn't look at me twice.
I wonder if I asked her out...
I wonder what he's thinking.
I'd like to know what he's smiling about.
I wonder what she's drinking?
Perhaps if I walk across that way
Oh gosh! he's coming over!
Must stay calm! What will I say?
My brain's gone supernova.
What can I say that might impress?
I've got to play it cool.
I wish I'd worn that other dress.
I'd hate to look a fool.
Maybe if I say hello...
I mustn't look too keen
Gosh, I'm nervous, does it show?
will she know what I mean?
She's looking up. Oh God! those eyes!
Yes!. He's sitting down.
Should I smile or look surprised?
Big and warm and brown.
I can't just sit here staring
What's he looking at?
Is it what I'm wearing?
I don't half feel a prat.
I'll have to think of something fast
Do you know, I think...
Yes! he's going to speak at last!
"Would you like a drink?"
********
First Date
First date,
can't be late,
what will he-?
will he be -?
What to wear?
Do my hair
-new dress-
hair's a mess.
What's that?
wear a hat?
Don't tease,
daddy, please!
Back by when?
only ten?
can't I just...?
don't you trust...?
He's here now?
Oh wow!
"Woohoo
look at you"
Later on,
date's gone,
"How'd it go?"
"Oh, you know."
***
Prevarication
Ah, no, she said, not this time...
You can't, she said, not now...
Stay here, she said, I'll call you
It's too late anyhow.
It's just, she said, you're busy...
I thought, she said, you'd need...
Some time, she said, to study
I want you to succeed.
Oh, right, I said, you're saying...
I see, I said, OK...
Is this, I said, for long then?
And then I thought, no way.
You've got, I said, another?
I've been, I said, replaced?
Would you, I said, have told me?
As she stood ashen-faced.
Ah, well, she said, about that...
I'll make, she said, amends...
I would, she said, have told you
And we can still be friends.
Oh no, I said, not this time.
We can't, I said, nohow.
Go home, I said, don't call me.
It's really too late now.
©2001
He-ing She-ing
Eyeing sighing
kissing missing
yearning burning
dating waiting
dreaming scheming
wedding bedding
baring pairing
mating sating
lusting trusting
craving saving
boring warring
paying greying
fighting slighting
ailing failing
working shirking
staying praying
lying crying
cheating beating
crawling sprawling
bleeding pleading
sweeping weeping
aching breaking
leaving grieving
ending
mending.
© 2002
One Way Conversation
"You're doing ok for your age," he said.
As a compliment it stank.
"But you look much better on your back."
There's nothing like being frank!
She raised an eyebrow, gave him a look.
"No, let me finish here..."
She pursed her lips and waited.
"The wrinkles disappear.
Not that you have many anyway."
He backpedalled like a pro.
She looked him squarely in the eye;
laughed as he dodged the blow.
© 2006
Wow! take a look at that!
Ooh, he's rather nice,
not too thin and not too fat.
She wouldn't look at me twice.
I wonder if I asked her out...
I wonder what he's thinking.
I'd like to know what he's smiling about.
I wonder what she's drinking?
Perhaps if I walk across that way
Oh gosh! he's coming over!
Must stay calm! What will I say?
My brain's gone supernova.
What can I say that might impress?
I've got to play it cool.
I wish I'd worn that other dress.
I'd hate to look a fool.
Maybe if I say hello...
I mustn't look too keen
Gosh, I'm nervous, does it show?
will she know what I mean?
She's looking up. Oh God! those eyes!
Yes!. He's sitting down.
Should I smile or look surprised?
Big and warm and brown.
I can't just sit here staring
What's he looking at?
Is it what I'm wearing?
I don't half feel a prat.
I'll have to think of something fast
Do you know, I think...
Yes! he's going to speak at last!
"Would you like a drink?"
********
First Date
First date,
can't be late,
what will he-?
will he be -?
What to wear?
Do my hair
-new dress-
hair's a mess.
What's that?
wear a hat?
Don't tease,
daddy, please!
Back by when?
only ten?
can't I just...?
don't you trust...?
He's here now?
Oh wow!
"Woohoo
look at you"
Later on,
date's gone,
"How'd it go?"
"Oh, you know."
***
Prevarication
Ah, no, she said, not this time...
You can't, she said, not now...
Stay here, she said, I'll call you
It's too late anyhow.
It's just, she said, you're busy...
I thought, she said, you'd need...
Some time, she said, to study
I want you to succeed.
Oh, right, I said, you're saying...
I see, I said, OK...
Is this, I said, for long then?
And then I thought, no way.
You've got, I said, another?
I've been, I said, replaced?
Would you, I said, have told me?
As she stood ashen-faced.
Ah, well, she said, about that...
I'll make, she said, amends...
I would, she said, have told you
And we can still be friends.
Oh no, I said, not this time.
We can't, I said, nohow.
Go home, I said, don't call me.
It's really too late now.
©2001
He-ing She-ing
Eyeing sighing
kissing missing
yearning burning
dating waiting
dreaming scheming
wedding bedding
baring pairing
mating sating
lusting trusting
craving saving
boring warring
paying greying
fighting slighting
ailing failing
working shirking
staying praying
lying crying
cheating beating
crawling sprawling
bleeding pleading
sweeping weeping
aching breaking
leaving grieving
ending
mending.
© 2002
One Way Conversation
"You're doing ok for your age," he said.
As a compliment it stank.
"But you look much better on your back."
There's nothing like being frank!
She raised an eyebrow, gave him a look.
"No, let me finish here..."
She pursed her lips and waited.
"The wrinkles disappear.
Not that you have many anyway."
He backpedalled like a pro.
She looked him squarely in the eye;
laughed as he dodged the blow.
© 2006
Wednesday, 7 August 2013
What's Wrong With Me?
When I discovered that my particular problem had a name it didn't alarm me, or make me depressed. Actually I'd suffered bouts of severe depression since childhood, so it would have been difficult to know the difference I suppose. I already knew about the OCD, obsessive compulsive disorder, which had also developed in childhood. Finally, in my sixties, I went searching online for why I felt the way I did, why I get so antsy around other people, why I'm hopeless at relationships, and I came across a site which described various personality disorders.
I read through each and every description, in an attempt to find out whether or not any of them described me, discounting those that had features I don't have. Then I came across one that seemed to be talking about me, so much so that I just sat and cried. A torrent of silent tears poured down my face as I read. Not from sadness, just sheer relief. It was as if someone was saying: "Hey, I know you, it's ok, you're not crazy, just suffering something other people have, it has a name, and we understand." To feel that someone finally understood me was unbelievably life affirming. It still is.
All through my childhood I'd been virtually speechless. Painfully shy, lacking any sense of self worth or confidence, school had been a nightmare for me. At home I felt isolated, as if I just didn't belong. There were times I felt invisible, sometimes I was convinced I must be a changeling, because I clearly wasn't part of this family I shared a house with. There was no obvious affection, parents who seemed always too busy to talk to me, a big sister who was ten years older and seemed totally out of reach and a little brother born when I was five, just starting school. I felt totally rejected. It didn't help that an older cousin who spent a lot of time in our house bullied me. I learned a few years ago that she regarded my sister as hers and was jealous of me. I got in the way. Of course the adults didn't believe me. I was "lying".
Hugs and cuddles were something other children got. It was as if we couldn't afford those in our house. Slaps I got, sure, but not cuddles. I have learned to some degree since why this was but, at the time, I couldn't understand why my mother said and did certain things that seared my soul, why no one wanted me around.
I seemed to be always in trouble. I hated going to school. My teachers called me a daydreamer, or at worst, stupid. My parents also called me stupid - when I would forget things or get errands muddled up in my head. Or when what I tried didn't stand up to my perfectionist father's standards. It's no surprise that I married very young in an attempt to find some affection but, sadly, my husband also took up the chorus and was always calling me stupid. Or a waste of space. It wasn't until I finally broke free from all that and went to University that I discovered I wasn't stupid after all. However, it only went some way towards giving me confidence and I was fifty by then.
Another taunt I'd heard since childhood was 'crazy' and I came to believe it. So much so that I took the name Crazylady for some time, online. I also developed tics as a child. My mother was always telling me to stop pulling faces or whatever. It's hard to explain but, like the OCD, it just something I feel I have to do. It's not a sense of dread, or that something bad will happen if I don't, it's not that clear cut; just a compulsion. I have to do it and feel horribly uncomfortable if I don't. Physically uncomfortable. Doing whatever it is takes away the nasty feeling, brings relief. I have even, on rare occasions, turned to self hurting, just to feel relief. Nothing too dramatic, nothing that will let others know. My secret shame.
Someone once described having Avoidant Personality Disorder, which is what I have, as "never having had a time in your life when you felt good enough, or worthy enough", and that does sum it up pretty well. It means that even when I get compliments I don't really believe them, the opposite belief is too well fixed in my brain. I "know" that people are just being kind. Fear of rejection is the most overwhelming emotion.
I try and try to get things perfect, knowing I never will, still hearing all those voices telling me why it isn't. In the end it takes enormous amounts of courage to put anything I've done out there for people to see or hear, and the first criticism will make me retract immediately, hurtling back into my shell. My online name now is "hochiwich", the Romany name for a hedgehog. Prickly, yes, when feeling threatened but soft as butter inside.I've spent a huge amount of my life apologising for, well, for living really.
The experts say that this disorder is almost impossible to cure as the patient just never really accepts, can't believe, that they are worth help and that the kind words of the therapist aren't just that, kind words. Meaningless. The OCD is largely under control, simply because I hate being not in control. I fought it and now it's a lot less compelling. The tics still appear, more so when I'm feeling stressed or anxious. And as if that wasn't enough I also have a hoarding disorder. I believe I know where it stems from but that doesn't help. I still panic at the thought of losing things.
I am writing more, allowing others to see what I write, knowing I will never be able to please everyone and trying to accept that that's ok. That I don't have to. That I'm as worth it as anyone else, even though, deep down, I doubt I will ever truly believe it. I have come to understand that all of these things are anxiety based and when I start to feel overwhelmed I take an anxiety relief supplement. And I do some meditation, chi kung, when I remember to.
Running away was a big thing with me. If something went wrong, a disagreement, a mistake, I would just simply run away and hide. I have a relationship now, one which has allowed me to be me, warts and all, and am learning not to run, but to face up to the anxiety and pain. I can't tell you how much it means to me to have the freedom to be me at last.
Why am I writing this now, and allowing it to be seen? Simply because there is a movement afoot, called Time To Talk, to make these things public, to put it out there and say "Hey, I'm human too, I have problems but at heart I'm pretty much like you". Though I'm not sure I am. I truly pity anyone else who lives with the hell of constant self doubt. If writing and publishing this helps anyone else, great. If it helps me too I won't complain.
Saturday, 3 August 2013
Virtual Slavery
Virtual Slavery
Slavery used to be rife, common, throughout the world. It was seen as normal, acceptable. But people began to believe that it wasn't right. That humans should not be enslaved. There is a long history of laws that were passed to this end.
1701: In Britain, the Lord Chief Justice rules that a slave became free as soon as he arrived in England.
1780: Pennsylvania passes An Act for the Gradual Abolition of Slavery, freeing future children of slaves. Those born prior to the Act remain enslaved for life. The Act becomes a model for other Northern states. Last slaves freed 1847
1807, 25 March: Abolition of the Slave Trade Act abolished slave trading in British Empire. Captains fined £120 per slave transported.
1811: Slave trading made a felony in the British Empire punishable by transportation for British subjects and foreigners.
1863: In the United States, Abraham Lincoln signs the Emancipation Proclamation which declared slaves in Confederate-controlled areas to be freed. Most slaves in "border states" are freed by state action; separate law freed the slaves in Washington, D.C.
On the 1st of August in 1834, slavery was officially abolished throughout the British Empire. Since 1807 the Slave Trade had been outlawed by Britain, and the Royal Navy was deployed to prevent ships engaging in it, helping to free 10,000s of slaves.
1865: December: U.S. abolishes slavery with the Thirteenth Amendment to the United States Constitution; about 40,000 remaining slaves are affected.
1948: UN Article 4 of the Declaration of Human Rights bans slavery globally.
Details of the rest of the world's actions can be seen at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Abolition_of_slavery_timeline
In short, slavery has been abolished.
So can anyone explain to me why, in virtual worlds, slavery is so popular? Slave games are possibly the most popular of the role play games. So many people are excited by the thought of owning slaves or being slaves. Why? Why turn the clock back this way?
We fought long and hard to give people dignity and freedom, yet so many people want degradation in their lives. I find it incomprehensible. Sick. Twisted. But that's what these people appear to want. Are their lives so empty, so meaningless, so lacking in excitement, that they have to resort to this kind of thing to feel anything? If so, that's terribly sad.
Yes, it's not real. It's a game. Maybe they feel some titillation at the thought of it but, for me, it's an insult to the thousands of people who suffered and died at the hands of others through slavery. And an insult to the many who fought to put an end to slavery.
Frankly I am appalled by the whole thing. Yes, it's fantasy. But what a sick fantasy. And these people fail to take into account that if you think about a thing long enough it becomes second nature. Isn't here enough misery in the world already without fantasizing about more?
Slavery used to be rife, common, throughout the world. It was seen as normal, acceptable. But people began to believe that it wasn't right. That humans should not be enslaved. There is a long history of laws that were passed to this end.
1701: In Britain, the Lord Chief Justice rules that a slave became free as soon as he arrived in England.
1780: Pennsylvania passes An Act for the Gradual Abolition of Slavery, freeing future children of slaves. Those born prior to the Act remain enslaved for life. The Act becomes a model for other Northern states. Last slaves freed 1847
1807, 25 March: Abolition of the Slave Trade Act abolished slave trading in British Empire. Captains fined £120 per slave transported.
1811: Slave trading made a felony in the British Empire punishable by transportation for British subjects and foreigners.
1863: In the United States, Abraham Lincoln signs the Emancipation Proclamation which declared slaves in Confederate-controlled areas to be freed. Most slaves in "border states" are freed by state action; separate law freed the slaves in Washington, D.C.
On the 1st of August in 1834, slavery was officially abolished throughout the British Empire. Since 1807 the Slave Trade had been outlawed by Britain, and the Royal Navy was deployed to prevent ships engaging in it, helping to free 10,000s of slaves.
1865: December: U.S. abolishes slavery with the Thirteenth Amendment to the United States Constitution; about 40,000 remaining slaves are affected.
1948: UN Article 4 of the Declaration of Human Rights bans slavery globally.
Details of the rest of the world's actions can be seen at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Abolition_of_slavery_timeline
In short, slavery has been abolished.
So can anyone explain to me why, in virtual worlds, slavery is so popular? Slave games are possibly the most popular of the role play games. So many people are excited by the thought of owning slaves or being slaves. Why? Why turn the clock back this way?
We fought long and hard to give people dignity and freedom, yet so many people want degradation in their lives. I find it incomprehensible. Sick. Twisted. But that's what these people appear to want. Are their lives so empty, so meaningless, so lacking in excitement, that they have to resort to this kind of thing to feel anything? If so, that's terribly sad.
Yes, it's not real. It's a game. Maybe they feel some titillation at the thought of it but, for me, it's an insult to the thousands of people who suffered and died at the hands of others through slavery. And an insult to the many who fought to put an end to slavery.
Frankly I am appalled by the whole thing. Yes, it's fantasy. But what a sick fantasy. And these people fail to take into account that if you think about a thing long enough it becomes second nature. Isn't here enough misery in the world already without fantasizing about more?
Tuesday, 30 July 2013
For Karina Hansen
Karina
Karina Hansen, twenty four, innocent of crime,
suffering an illness, a mysterious disease.
Taken from her home and imprisoned for some time:
almost six months now. Can you tell me please
why this outrage happens, for she is not alone,
others also suffer this inhuman attitude.
For she is not in hospital, that I could condone,
if she was being cared for in a place of quietude.
But no, it's psychiatric, or so her doctors say,
they try to force her into an exercise regime
which will, we know, exacerbate her illness day by day
and leave her even worse; it's enough to make you scream!
No visits from her family, those are not allowed.
This medieval attitude is so hard to believe.
So if you can please give support, shout it long and loud,
Give Karina what she needs, give her a reprieve!
© 2013
And a song:
http://www.4shared.com/mp3/6tHV--A3/Karina.html
Karina, Karina, how can they sanction this wrong?
Karina, Karina, let's get you home where you belong.
For months she has languished, hurt and abused,
tortured by those in control,
wrongly imprisoned, falsely accused,
held with no hope of parole.
Karina, Karina, how can they sanction this wrong?
Karina, Karina, let's get you home where you belong.
Many are fighting, for justice and truth,
hoping that someone will hear
We want her out while she still has her youth,
Someday we'll win, have no fear.
Karina, Karina, how can they sanction this wrong?
Karina, Karina, let's get you home where you belong.
Karina Hansen, twenty four, innocent of crime,
suffering an illness, a mysterious disease.
Taken from her home and imprisoned for some time:
almost six months now. Can you tell me please
why this outrage happens, for she is not alone,
others also suffer this inhuman attitude.
For she is not in hospital, that I could condone,
if she was being cared for in a place of quietude.
But no, it's psychiatric, or so her doctors say,
they try to force her into an exercise regime
which will, we know, exacerbate her illness day by day
and leave her even worse; it's enough to make you scream!
No visits from her family, those are not allowed.
This medieval attitude is so hard to believe.
So if you can please give support, shout it long and loud,
Give Karina what she needs, give her a reprieve!
© 2013
And a song:
http://www.4shared.com/mp3/6tHV--A3/Karina.html
Karina, Karina, how can they sanction this wrong?
Karina, Karina, let's get you home where you belong.
For months she has languished, hurt and abused,
tortured by those in control,
wrongly imprisoned, falsely accused,
held with no hope of parole.
Karina, Karina, how can they sanction this wrong?
Karina, Karina, let's get you home where you belong.
Many are fighting, for justice and truth,
hoping that someone will hear
We want her out while she still has her youth,
Someday we'll win, have no fear.
Karina, Karina, how can they sanction this wrong?
Karina, Karina, let's get you home where you belong.
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
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
Friday, 19 July 2013
Down Again
We are being encouraged to talk openly about mental problems to take away the stigma attached to it.
I have a mental health problem. It's called Avoident Personality Disorder. It's an anxiety based disorder.
Someone said that having this disorder means that there has never been a time in your life when you felt good enough or worthy enough.
I guess that sums it up nicely.
Down Again
What do you do
when the urge is strong
you know it's wrong
but the urge is strong
the urge to self harm,
to hurt yourself
to take away pain
which sounds insane
so what can you do
instead.
Suddenly fragile
once again
tears fall
but that's all.
No harming today.
It's not gone away
but buried once more
for now.
2013
I have a mental health problem. It's called Avoident Personality Disorder. It's an anxiety based disorder.
Someone said that having this disorder means that there has never been a time in your life when you felt good enough or worthy enough.
I guess that sums it up nicely.
Down Again
What do you do
when the urge is strong
you know it's wrong
but the urge is strong
the urge to self harm,
to hurt yourself
to take away pain
which sounds insane
so what can you do
instead.
Suddenly fragile
once again
tears fall
but that's all.
No harming today.
It's not gone away
but buried once more
for now.
2013
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