Forest Bathing

Posted: March 6, 2017 in nature poems, thought stream

At dverse tonight Toni hosts haibun Monday – a prose poem and haiku-style ending on the subject of shinrin-yoku .. otherwise known as forest bathing.

Cortisol hormones zing when plucked. An atmosphere stretches
the nerves, cranks up stress until it’s screeching. Fused into your
brain so that your eyes are pinpricked electrics. A prescription
of forest trails, pine needle tranquilisers, wood oils drip feeding
calm disarm words bent on harm.

In spring the owl hoots,
its echo searching for listeners.
Leaf voices die in autumn.

Autumn Pine Forest

The Gift

Posted: February 28, 2017 in thought stream

At dverse tonight Mish wants us to find a special memento and write a poem

At point of detonation
the dandelion clock is
bubble locked.
A frozen moment.
A break for freedom eternalised.

You gave me
this snow storm of seeds,
a snapshot of an explosion
that became us.

 

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Hard-Wired Nerves

Posted: February 27, 2017 in nature poems

Today it’s Quadrille time again at dverse. Hosted by De we have to write a 44-word poem that includes the word giggle.

Panic struck, a pigeon
shotguns out of trees
leaving a giggle of feathers
spiralling in air.

Following its trajectory
an echoing bang
chases across fields.
Fades through woods.

The bird touches down again,
eyes wild,
heart drumming
in the engine room of its fear.

Weather Bomb

Posted: February 23, 2017 in nature poems

Tonight at http://dversepoets.com/this-is-us/  is free write .. no prompt. So here’s one about Storm Doris that visited our shores today. ‘Weather Bomb’ seems to be a phrase conjured up by the weather office to make it sound more exciting! 

It goes off before dawn
exploding through woods.
Trees are in a frenzy,
some ripped up in the blast
leaving craters of shattered roots.
Hills heave and pitch
as if rocks were trying
to break free and scatter-shot
through the landscape.
And the river.
It is full of fear,
tearing at itself.
Tries to turn back,
is shredded in the shockwave.
Turns again and races
for its only escape route.

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This is the weather map of the approaching
storm which hit the UK today

Old Town Loses Its Song

Posted: February 21, 2017 in default

Tonight at http://dversepoets.com/this-is-us/     Oloriel is hosting and wants us to write suburban poetry. Of course the suburbs can spawn so many different emotions all over the world!

At Rackenford Meadows
it’s the town’s last stand.
Country tracks are diverted
and the rest of the land
is sinking under a weight
of concrete and bricks.
A pox on the landscape,
a fox moving out
as monotonous houses
thrust through the earth.
Fields ripped up,
lawns to be laid down,
spine road to split.
An avenue here,
a close over there
a drive sweeping round
all garishly lit
and fences
and fences
and fences
and fences
hemming in the dilemmas
of homes, a hundred
small islands living alone.
Battles were lost up Canal
Hill, along Bolham Road
and now the old town
is trapped in suburbia.
Only the river escapes
drumming over the weir
taking with it the song
of a town that lived here.

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Ellis Island

Posted: February 20, 2017 in history and art, thought stream

Margaret at Toads, has us writing about Ellis Island accompanied by some powerful text and photos from which she has asked us to draw on to create a poem – see http://withrealtoads.

Their eyes feed on hope.
Not dulled by what is left behind.

Uprooted. Tossed in the air.
Chaff snatched.
Planted in harshness
that is Ellis Island.
A seed tray but beyond it the place
where eyes are fixed.

They wait.
To be pricked out, repotted.
This multi-culture massing
of a New World.
A Babel-tower crush.
That will grow.
That will not forget its roots.
That will not shut its doors.

img_0951

An Algerian, one of 26m immigrants who arrived at Ellis Island
in America between 1880 and 1924 –
a photo from the island museum’s archives.