WILD WORDS
Poetry Collection
Take a species–spanning journey with the Wild Words eco-poetry Project. Immerse yourself in beautiful poetry co–created by young people and the non–human world. Whether penned with rustling leaves, birdsong, rainfall, or the moon, these works invite you to share in the collective voice of the entire planet – and beyond.
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READ THE POEMS
ABOVE US by Ana Sanislav & The Sky
Have you ever wondered while staring into the sky,
What’s beyond that giant swirl of blue and white?
That thought is big, so large, you’d let out a sigh,
But never stopped thinking about what’s hiding above our homeland.
‘A castle of clouds’ some people may think,
Others would say ‘A ship soaring through the sky, but which would never sink’,
‘A God’s paradise’ most would declare,
None are right but none are wrong either.
Birds can enter this bewitching spot,
Even though we’ve tried helicopters, planes, spaceships, and more.
Of course, we’ve entered space, but there’s a place in between, which we know nothing of,
There’s a sort of energy not letting us through, like a giant knot,
Holding us back and not letting us pull through.
Though the only difference between the birds and we,
Is that they are free, and we’re held hostage in our own souls.
Birds are free,
But as free as them,
We only can wish to be!
EXTREME WEATHER WREAKS MUCH HAVOC by Michael Sathasivam & The Weather
The sun beats down
Parches lush land
Burns green grass brown
Scorches white sand
The wind blusters
Uproots tall trees
Smashes shutters
Sets free light leaves
Torrential rain
Soaks one and all
Gorges the drain
Drenches the mall
Snowstorm coats white
Roads and rooftops
All within sight
Even hilltops
Brilliant lightning
Dazzles the moor
Thunder rumbles
To a fierce roar
Heatwave blazes
Degrees rocket
Cold snap freezes
Celsius plummet
Extreme weather
Wreaks much havoc!
No more dither
Act now, don’t mock!
THE RIVER by Shannon Saunders & A River
The river of calm creeps
Below the waterfall of wisdom
Like a strand of hair flowing in the wind
The river of gossip glides
Towards the library of lies
Like a comet burning through the sky
The river of friendship flows
Under the bridge of beauty
Like a rainbow’s curve
The river of thought turns
Past the school of success
Like a moth to a flame
The river of tails twists
By the theatre of talent
Like an arrow to a bullseye
THE FOREST FLOOR by Batyr Seitnepesov & The Forest Floor
Weaving varnish of watercolour; streaks of sandy, synthetic texture
layering coarsely, foliose phantoms amalgamate unto a pulpous, crude oil;
its bronze caricature conceals the chronicling webs of interlocks
beneath its sun–baked, flaky lobe; windswept by a reverberating howl.
Fibrous remains enclose the optical senses.
Timbered fragrance deafens the verdant incense.
Distant crumplings conjoin, contour, condense,
camouflaging the coal–black carapace adorning
the beetle. Its herculean maw slits the interweaving
leaves and sprig. Its insurmountable legs pushing
against the frigid tar. Antennae drawn, the Beetle
waits, as ripples of crinkling tapers unto needle.
Sporadic throaty squawking, the sudden basso
squelching, with every pause the gash gets deeper.
The earth now shakes. Before the beetle yields,
seismic waves of blazing light burn through the veins of litter,
crashing against the reverent beak, unyielding to the winding ramparts;
the ascension of crackling infernos suppress, entrap the beetle.
Collapsing intertwining sinews bow down to the Crow’s rearing snout:
embellished by the radiance the Crow rotates its crooked beak,
its single wide–eyed lens reflects a shrivelled silhouette
and with a single strike the beetle was cut down.
Mires comprise these depthless
walls. Smoothen utter ruination
encapsulates the near horizons.
Far–off monuments stay breathless,
With bruised and rotten gelid flesh.
From these speckled cracks, death
succumbs, as ashy, pulsating worms
erode, remould, revitalise the monoliths.
As weaving varnish of watercolour shifts, new textures are stitched.
Networks of speckled fungi enshrouded by a mass of poison ivy.
A fainthearted hare, a gargantuan oak tree, a foxy weevil, an owl.
Countless portraiture, each stroke evolved from a previous painting,
make up the chronicling webs of interlocks found within the litter.
BLEACHED LEAVES by Tasir Shariff & A Leaf
The brown of a leaf in autumn was such a shade,
That no paint could replicate.
By morning sun it caught the light,
And dulled it down to gold.
By night a silhouette drenched in pearl,
Lined silver by the stars.
One morning, while the clean–cut grass,
Sat limply under dew.
A jagged corpse, scarred by saw,
Protruded from the mud.
Twisted roots clutched at dry soil,
Splintered bark scattered.
And the leaf, now bleached black by mud,
Sat neatly swept against a wall.
IF I HAD FINS by Elodie Semple & The Sea
If I had fins
I would notice an octopus skuttling soundly like a mouse on the floor, darting all around.
If I had fins
I would listen to fish crunching coral noisily, like walking on autumn leaves at sunrise.
If I had fins
I would taste transparent salt quickly jumping on my tongue, like bubbles popping in my mouth.
If I had fins
I would stroke the fish that whirl around me like a piece of seaweed spinning in the ocean.
If I had fins
I would smell fish that are like a rainbow of scents dancing all around me.
If I had fins
I would dream of walking on a sandy desert with lots of dust powder all around me as I stroll everywhere it lies.
LEOPARD by Ori Sivayokan & A Leopard
Leopard jumps out of the jungle following the young gazelle,
Echoing growl of mighty power suddenly is ready to devour.
Opening the hunt, the buffaloes grunt hoping not to be lunch,
Prey is set, ready to be dead after the signal is sent.
After the hunt, dinner has come just before dark arrives,
Ready to eat, leopard has a seat in his nice cosy banyan tree.
Dark has arrived and night thrives as leopard sighs, and shall say goodbye until the next day arrives.
CIRCLES by Usmi Sohoni & A Park
Yesterday, I was rolling down a grassy hill and found it very hard to breathe.
I saw grass, nothing, sky, everything.
(Grass, nothing, sky, everything)
I saw green, black, blue, white.
(Green, black, blue, white)
I saw autumn, winter, spring, summer.
(Autumn, winter, spring, summer)
I saw wake up, school, home, sleep.
(Wake up, school, home, sleep)
I saw children, teenagers, adults, elderly.
(Children, teenagers, adults, elderly)
It was only when I stopped rolling and stood up, I could see the whole picture, all at once.
All sides to the circle.
A friendly circle.
And suddenly, it wasn’t so hard to breathe any more.
PANDA by Sam Sparrow & Pandas
This friendly creature only wants a life
But people are killing them with a knife
Giant or red, treat them with respect
Who knows what will happen next
Old or young, let them be alive
We need them to survive
Bamboo is their main source of food
Cutting trees will not help them through
Only two thousand left
Who knows what happened to the rest
In the winter, they are at their best
Fighting, playing, or having a rest
Mountains are where they live
Endangered by the things we give
Pooping forty times a day
Mating season is in May
Five or six feet, don’t be scared
Please let them be spared
Panda, panda, fluffy like a pillow
Soon there will be zero
Let them live or they will die
Let them survive
RABBIT'S WILD ESCAPE by Florence Spooner & A Wild Rabbit
Hop, hop, hop,
my ears twitch and flop.
Listening to the autumn leaves rustling on the trees,
my soft fur is tickled by the breeze.
Eat, eat, eat,
the green grass is so sweet.
High above me the colourful birds fly,
as the fluffy clouds roll slowly across the sky.
Sniff, sniff, sniff,
I think that I catch a whiff.
Is there something amongst the moss–covered rocks?
It’s a FOX!
RUN, RUN, RUN,
end of the fun.
Ears upright,
full of fright.
Hide, hide, hide,
it is dangerous outside.
Safe in this burrow that I prepared,
for when I’m scared.
Peep, peep, peep,
from the safety of the deep.
The fox is not about,
it’s time to come out.
Play, play, play,
for the rest of the day.
Listening to the autumn leaves rustling on the trees,
my soft fur is tickled by the breeze.
AUTUMN by Isla Spraggons & Autumn
As I set off on my ride,
I knew this wouldn’t be an easy stride,
The crops whisked,
The wind hissed,
All into a sudden flurry of motion
which spread into the distance.
Further on, I encountered a deer,
Whose face soon swelled with fear.
Trees stood like soldiers,
Looming over like falling boulders,
preparing to fall onto the waving crops below.
Finally, the crops mellowed,
While the wind still bellowed,
Autumnal leaves swayed,
As if they’d been betrayed,
Making all the loafing trees burst into life.
As the sun set,
The land and sky met,
Pink and purple spread,
Closely followed by tints of red,
Creating a concoction of colours
which lit up the ashy sky.
THE VALLEY OF LIFE by Krish Srivastava & A Bird
The valley is teeming with life.
Petals are unfurling,
Back from the dead and awash with colour.
Rosebuds are breaking free from the turf,
As the trees yawn and stretch,
Waking from their slumber,
Injecting even more colour into the scene.
Wherever I go,
The birdsongs and faint chirping sounds hang in the air,
Plants of all kinds bursting out of the ground,
It is like nature is being reborn.
Twittering baby birds hatching from speckled eggs,
Feeling their first ever morning breeze,
While tweeting heavenly music for my ears.
Soft white blankets of powdery snow start disappearing from the valley,
Not to be seen again until the next year.
The land is crawling with life,
Sprouting plants from every inch of it.
Candy floss clouds dotting across the sky,
As rays of glorious sunlight burst through them.
The fresh clean air has no curious whiff or putrid pong,
The valley has more colours than any city could possibly have.
It has mint, arsenic and emerald trees, reaching for the sky.
Cool shades of turquoise, teal and sapphire glisten, like jewels in the icy water.
The landscape glimmers and gleams,
Looking like a delicate, creamy chocolate bar.
Twittering in their nest,
Are my baby brothers, feasting on juicy treats,
As I take my turn to watch over them,
Whilst watching the valley of life.
RAIN by Mollie Stockford & The Rain
I feel calm
Falling can be quite daunting but it’s no harm
To me the world is big
Even a tiny twig
I can taste the trees’ whispering leaves
Sadly, rain showers are brief
You can see us as you waken
The sun is what we have taken
We will drip drip drop
Us, the raindrops, are at the top
We are not only fun to play in
But we make music if you bring out a tin
Leaves fall as we drop
We make calming noises like plop
Your grass grows because of us
So next time it rains – don’t put up a fuss
THE LIFE OF A BIRD by Alex Strydom & Birds
Flying high in the sky,
Without a care in the world,
Chirping back and forth,
Rhythm by rhythm.
All together waiting patiently,
For the ground to soften,
All day and night playing and flying,
Freely in the sky,
Among the clouds,
How free they are.
THE FOREST CALLINGS by Dorotea Stucinske & A Forest
Psst!
They would call,
The gentle ushering to join them in the gala,
To express one another
Through the forms of dance and song.
Psst!
They would call,
The temptations they would break,
To lure you to seek the unknown,
Through the forms of fascination and uncertainty.
Some had always thought you were crazy,
But no,
You knew the callings of The Forest.
You had dreamt of dancing with the doe again,
You had dreamt of watching the woodland mice live their little lives –
Stepping in the crisp waters on a fine,
Midsummer night’s eve
Was all you wanted to do again.
You had longed to be transported back to a place,
That had felt like a home you’ve lived in for years,
Even though it is a place you’ve rarely been.
OLD TREE by Yehor Surzhuk & A Tree
There is a tree in the park
That is very old and wise
It has seen the world change a lot
From wars to peace and back
It sees the sun shining through the leaves
Making shapes on the grass
It sees the seasons come and go
From green to red and yellow
It sees the birds sitting on its branches
Making homes for their babies
It sees the people walking by
Some happy, some sad, some angry
It knows how old it is by counting
The rings inside its wood
It sees the leaves fall and grow again
Like a circle of life and luck
It hears the wind whispering
Through its leaves, like a soft voice
It hears the birds singing
Making the air happy and loud
It hears the people talking quietly
Telling each other secrets and dreams
It feels close to the natural world
A part of the music of life
It feels the roughness of its skin
Showing its age and power
It feels the breeze touching it gently
On its branches, like a friend
It feels the plants and moss growing
On its body, like a coat
It shows its own feeling through touch
Roots deep in the ground, holding the earth
Branches high in the sky, giving shade
It smells the dirt of the forest
Full of life and death
It smells the flowers in spring
A sign of new life and love
It smells the dryness of fallen leaves in fall
A sign of time and change
It links the smells to the seasons
A memory of life’s renewal
It knows its role in the ecosystem
In a way that is hard to explain
As a giver of food and shelter
For animals big and small
As a keeper of the land
Saving it from harm and waste
As a sign of strength and wisdom
Making people admire and respect
It thinks about its own umwelt
And its place in the natural world
It sees, hears, feels, smells, and knows
Things that people may never learn
It says thank you for its quiet life
And the things it teaches
To those who watch and listen
The old tree of the park
CLOUDS ARE US by Leo Francis Sutcliffe & Clouds
We are fluffy, we are cold,
We see the planes, helicopters and wave at the hot air balloons.
We sway side to side, back and forth, and appear in different shapes like hearts, ducks and water melons too.
We send water down to every living thing,
Including plants, trees, rivers and seas.
We let the sunrays through just a little – and sometimes a lot.
We can be heavy, light, wispy or bright,
Grey, black, white, and sometimes low and in full sight.
The most magical part is when our water partners with the sun to make a rainbow.
A TEAR by Harriet Synan & A Tear
Water blue
Grass green
you and me:
trapped, stuck, imprisoned, out of luck
yuck, I’m just muck
that’s how I must feel.
Water blue
Grass green
sad face, that’s
the case. I had a
happy start but
a sad end, it’s like
a never–ending bend, why?
Why me, why is it to be?
Water blue, eyes blurry
it makes my brain feel swirly.
Water blue
Grass green
a tear, it represents my fear, like
a wave of emotion pushing me into
a cave, rushing me to worry, not letting
me, be me.
STORIES OF A GRAVEYARD TREE by Leena Tageldin & A Yew Tree
I’ve watched 1,000 people love
And 1,000 lovers die
I’ve watched 1,000 leaves dance through the air
And watched 1,000 lovers dance for the last time
I’ve watched the seasons change
1,000 summers, winters, autumns and springs
I’ve heard 1,000 tears for ringing church bells
And 1,000 tears for wedding rings
I’ve seen 1,000 tears of sadness
And yet, 1,000 more years of joy
I’ve heard 1,000 people sit and cry
But I’ve seen them all heal over time
Then the seasons will change again
And I’ll watch 1,000 new emotions
Soon, my 1,000 years will end
And my memories will become folk-tales
A GREY HEART STILL HURTS – CONFESSIONS OF A BROKEN GARDEN by Solana Talenti & A Flower Garden
i get high on his love
as i feel our energy move
my breath is his, pushed out
never to return
from the power he exhumes
as my layers begin to open
my skin now paper thin
can you hear me,
need me?
as my flowers turn and twist?
as my dry green eyes look upon for rain?
as i get high on his love
once again –
my follicles sway
and branch arms droop
his love was too strong and the sky is now gone
for you is all i see
i, your queen
to you
the writhing bee,
what could you have done to stop the love he forced upon me?