can’t stop touching
my face
sucking fingers
biting nails
turn my cheek
to be licked by the wind
run at birds
who beat, beat, beat
wingflashes of white
in sea-salt air
they’re still scared
of me, I’m alpha
right?
the world has not
changed its laws
fragile, stupid, greedy
glorious
needy
I want to swallow the sky today
Is it mine?
ripples in water
make perfect art
for no one
to own
devastated
reinstated
again, again, again
can’t stop touching
my face
Bushfire moon
an eye prickly with tired
in the night
things expire
by day
the sand’s a ribcage and
there’s always dead things on the beach
is it unusual?
Embarrassed, shy by my
disconnect
I do not know
I’ve been away
it takes a year but
didn’t ask
in case
no one has noticed and
I’m afraid
what that might mean
I didn’t set out to write a series of ‘bushfire’ poems but I guess I did and it seems appropriate for this time of year in NSW, Australia as we’re suffering some bad fires at present. Where I am is OK, we are safe, but there’s smoke in the air most days.
Photo: Claire Doble
In the forest
in the morning
the mist lies heavy
and protects the trees
hiding sprites
wrapped in soft grey wisps
of light
undetectable to the eye
I think they won’t hurt me
but better not
give cause
step light
fly swiftly by
onward and through
a mere visitor
clearing foggy mind
it’s not quite
my place today
what was red in tooth and claw
is covered now in iron ore
this springtime that I once enjoyed
is today spoilt by the noise
of busy building sites a-groaning
how must it feel for those in loam liv’d
oceans pure and deep and blue
scummed over with plastic refuse
while we finger glowing screens
ignoring slave-mined metal’s screams
Nature thou art but a plaything
for human waste and fattened purse strings
however one does hope, suspect
in the end, you’ll win out yet
Soundcloud link – with added building site backing! https://soundcloud.com/user-808707280/up-in-your-sht
Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was to write a nature poem. Um, now I look again it was supposed to be about a place / animal / thing you know well. I guess I wrote it about the whole damn unknowable world. Hmm…
clairevetica 