WILD WORDS

When the wind blows we all fall and stand.

We all hook arms promising never to be separated.

The rustling of the leaves is like music to my ears.

The gentle stream lulls me to sleep.

My fair lady approaches me, my wish has been granted.

Our bodies sway in the wind but we stay strong and firm.

Hunger, famine and drought became the norm, all perished – but one survived.

How can I face my comrades, the reality is too harsh to condone.

I am what is left of that promise.

Our dreams and hope shattered by this cruel world.

My uttermost desire is for the next generation to be unwavering.

Please grant my request.

In the shadows

Upon the mallows

Where the great beast lies

In the pond

Where the fish belong

The little things thrive

And in the Forest

Where fallow deer flourish

With water and food to survive

Nature unrestrained

Where creatures remain

And everything blooms to life

I am running, I am flying across the sky,

I leap, I twirl as clouds race by,

I can be kind, I can be cruel, I can sweep past or destroy,

Playtime is never over, as I generously deploy,

My strength and my power, to the world all around,

I can gallop or whisper without a sound,

You can’t see me, although I am always there,

I watch you breathe, I am your air,

Without me you die,

Too much and you fall,

Too little and the world won’t know me at all

I am more than God, but less than His power,

I drive the world, I can restore power,

Pollution sets off a fire inside, I’m out of control,

And so are you.

The pummelling, pattering peril drums and pounds,

Screeching and howling across the hills,

Rushing, flushing, gushing. Drowning the landscape in a violent frenzy.

It washes muck and stone across once calm pathways.

Waterfalls crashing, washing aside civilisation, devastating land and livelihoods.

Relentless.

Filth–covered streets, waist deep. Humans weep.

Rising costs. Lives lost.

Endless warnings. Deaf ears.

Beautiful calm turned to panic, lunatics.

Across the world it brings plenty and without it there is no life.

But

Too much ends in tragedy.

Look at this crimson, blood red beauty of the bushes.

How it sits, believing itself to be a being of utter perfection.

People say that a rose represents love,

Others say that a rose is love,

And many say that love lasts forever.

Yet one day the rose will wilt, and die.

Branches stretch to the heavens

Further than my arms which prevailed to the far–sky, searching for a reason to stay.

Creatures anguished, only to be smote by the god we looked to.

Your arms scarred by lightning, cursed to be fruitless.

My mind blackened by tar, cursed to be fractured.

I contemplate the lowest hanging branch

With great swarms of flies beneath my eyes, feasting on colour

The termites beneath your armour erode you

I lay my head against your bark

The insects of our blindness pass freely between us.

The unyielding stature of loneliness never broke you,

Upon those horizon–reaching fields.

My mind distorted by despair,

Looked to you

As the author of my final chapter,

Where I could hang my heavy head,

In a final attempt to recapture peace, once lost.

I used to think my broken neck would finally find a home betwixt your roots.

I thought you would take pieces of me,

Consume me.

Translucent veins

Once–warm flesh

Skin your hardened bark

With fingers deep within the cold earth.

Hold me, I pleaded.

Relieve me of this false life.

Through heavy storm and wind,

Your oaken form never yielded.

Alone, Time passed.

Sitting by your heart is enough, I settled.

The flies lessened from my eyes

For a summer I stayed,

Subjecting me to colour once more.

I finally see the unabashed sunset between your leaves.

A coloured richness I can taste.

Holes in our chests,

Will only allow golden rays to strike our hearts faster.

Oak of primordial prowess,

Who holds agreement with Thanatos

To leave me to travel the horizon–reaching fields,

To rest upon your core.

Blessed with colour once more,

I revel in the sunlight that brazens my form,

your leaves afire.

Aware of our charred appearances,

We blaze fearlessly.

For forest is a magical world

It has magic

Breath–taking magical beauty

Forest is life

Vast biodiversity

Vast land

Magical creatures

And unique magical trees

The dead chunk of woods

Come to life

Plants born

On dead chunk of woods

Forest has magic

Magic in forest

Magical creatures

In the magical forest

A tree,

So simple yet so delicate,

And with so many depths,

That the eye cannot see.

So it sits by a stream,

Perched upon a hill,

Exposed to the elements,

What might he dream?

He dreams of a world,

Where all is calm,

No wind is attacking,

No need to be furled.

The whistling wind wails,

Tearing his hair,

Ambushed by those with wings or legs,

And by those with tails.

Still the birds continue to chirp,

Plants swaying around him,

But there is one thing they are all connected to,

And that is the overlooked dirt.

The trees near me are a thousand different hues

Red, orange and brown crunching beneath my shoes

Green has disappeared into the sharp air

Leaving thin branches bare

A playful wind tickles my neck

I turn up my collar to keep it in check

The sky feels undressed

The clouds are off somewhere

To fly around in the sky isn’t like walking in a park.

It is hard to be a bird, especially a lark.

You may think it’s cruel to eat bugs.

But a thrush’s baby thinks it’s a delicacy to eat slugs.

You think a seagull’s mean to steal your chips?

It’s alright for you, stuffing your big, fat lips.

Right there in that tree, that pigeon’s mad!

But that’s the only way they know. Yes, it’s sad.

So you’re lucky to be a human and so am I.

Don’t be sad you’re not a bird soaring in the sky.

The sun is shining,

Chase me, Harry, chase me!

The wind is blowing through my fur, and I feel so happy I want to fly!

The nuts are safely buried and stored for winter.

My nest is a ball of leaves the size of a basketball, and it’s incredibly warm.

My tail is extra fluffy from the morning downpour, and I can’t wait to jump from tree to tree!

I can’t stop scratching my armpits I am so happy!

Chase me, Harry, chase me.

Let’s jump from tree to tree together, it’s so much fun.

Did you bring me any treats?

Digestive biscuits and walnuts! My favourite!

That was so much fun, Harry, thank you.

Shall we rest awhile on this ledge, and I’ll share my walnuts with you?

Only one thing, mind, I don’t normally like sharing!

Starlings chattering away in excitement,

Something is up ahead.

The wind is howling out loud,

While the bell on a cat’s collar dings.

With one year of a life span,

They hatch in September,

Then find a crevice in November,

To claim as their home.

But along the way they must ensure,

To resist the temptation of the sweet flowers.

Without any ears they still react,

To the stomping of a human foot.

The lifelong journey up a tree,

Soon means they must always be alert.

They cautiously wait for the cannonball–like rain to fire,

Or the tsunami of a breeze to send them flying.

I can hear the birds singing in perfect harmony,

I can see the guinea pigs enjoying the morning sunlight.

I can feel the sun attempting to warm all,

I can smell the freshly cut grass from the garden over the fence.

The first day I mourned your loss

the sun cried with me. Each cloud

wept your disappearance only to find some

remnants of you in everything they saw. The days

grew longer and the nights too, and I couldn’t

bear the thought of not seeing you when the stars

screamed your name.

Only time can tell which one of us will be

gone before the day has ended, but my soul has

become yours. The Earth looks like it’s crying

and the soil held the secrets of our love that were

lost in history

and one day

when all the world is turned to dust

and all semblance of truth is wiped from the Earth

the only thing, the only shred of truth that will remain

is what the moon has kept of you. My love,

we are mosaics of what the other left behind.

I listen,

The wind hits the trees,

It makes me feel relaxed.

Leaves fly from the wind hitting them,

The grass moves aggressively from the impact of the wind,

The wind then makes a high–pitched noise,

That makes me relaxed as well.

Stones don’t cry, but I do,

Larger tears that fall down my face and create a mess on my clothes,

As I watch the stones being brutally killed by others’ feet.

Stones don’t cry, but I do,

Big sobs that leave me breathless,

As I watch the stones be thrown away from their family and into their grave.

Stones don’t cry, but I do,

Huge gulps that shake me to my core,

As I hold a stone in my hand, its scars too deep to be fixed.

My roots are firmly grounded

I stand tall and sway in the wind

I am strong and healthy

I listen to the rain, it pelts against my leaves

Birds shelter within my canopy

I hear the birds singing when the rain settles down

It is Autumn, my leaves are starting to disappear

They fall beneath me and crunch when on the ground

Soon it will be Winter and I will stand bare

I listen carefully to the cars passing by

The petrol fumes gusting my way

Engines revving and motorbikes racing

I look forward to the Summer

Blazing sun and green leaves

Bees buzzing and birds tweeting

HUMAN: I walk past my beloved home and spot a peculiar thing.

FOX: I walk past my usual place and spot a peculiar thing I have never seen before.

HUMAN: They wear burnt red fur with a tint of ash on the nose.

FOX: They wear crimson red clothing with a tint of green at the feet.

HUMAN: What is this . . . this . . . thing?

FOX: I’ve never seen one of these before. I usually stay in my spot and don’t move: too scared to walk outside.

HUMAN: It looks hurt and distraught and scared.

FOX: They look confused.

HUMAN: Maybe this strange creature needs help. But . . .

FOX: They look, in a way, sort of helpful.

HUMAN: I don’t know what to do. This . . . thing . . . looks so precious and menacing at the same time.

FOX: Maybe I should approach her.

HUMAN: The thing is moving closer and closer towards me. What do I do?

You Pick Us Up

Clean, Dazzling

Throw Us Away

Lost, Forgotten

Yet We Tumble

Bruised, Hopeless

A Thought Strikes Us

Excited, Collected

We Will Make You Hear Us

Determined, Stubborn

We Will Clog Your Waters

Optimistic, Daring

Pollute Your Earth

Focused, Dogged

You Will See Us Now

I’m a message in a bottle; a tale lost in a trance.

A visage embedded under the soil without a glance –

Once an entity saturated by lush and flourishing green

Now acid rain bleeds into my skin:

Like I’m lost in an ocean scene.

Crimson–crested roses intertwined around my wrists

A splash of wine: my skies were a pool of maroon.

I could almost slip into the abyss.

A scarlet petal melting into every spoken lyric.

My voice so warped and wrinkled and worn:

It’s almost satiric.

Grasping my breath as you dragged me under

Slashing and twisting the knife

My body was the waves; your taunting was the thunder

Sinking ships into shimmering sapphires,

I was engulfed in a body of water,

My ultramarine could never diffuse into your campfire.

Verdurous, yet infectious: your ivy adorned my cobblestone walls,

Invading my lacey–blue willow tree

That always finds its way of bending to your calls.

Your wisteria infiltrated my sanctuary,

Starlit waterfalls and Windermere reservoirs can only exist in solitary.

Snowflakes dancing in the air – the ether its ballroom

Observed by a golden winter sunset that painted over the gloom

Of a thousand elegies from you ice–frozen ignorance

Your decisions leave blood splatters – you’re purely carnivorous,

Melting icecaps: your cracked promises like a furnace.

My name is Mother Nature: my story is washed up in the rain.

I may be not as delicate as prey that you feed on,

But your tempest isn’t worth all the pain.