poetry – Every Stroke Kills

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Every Stroke Kills

In the wake of every stroke

Lies the ruins of many lives.

In the wake of every gouge

Lies a community destroyed.

Letter by letter

The epic story is untold.

Letter by letter

The greatest story is unwritten

Until the blank pages

Tell a different tale

Of what once was and is no more.

25.6.2018

We do not value the incredible miracle of life on this planet. We may be unique in this most enormous universe. Every single form of life may be utterly unique – every single cell the most amazing miracle. The utter improbability of life means that we should cherish every single cell.

Yet we treat life with such disdain. Insects, animals and plants are destroyed without thought. Every tree houses a community. Every stream and wood provides a million homes.

We chop down the trees and gouge up the soil without thought to the communities we destroy.

We are unwriting the greatest story ever written. It is becoming less by the minute. I wish we would change and learn to cherish every bit of it.

Poetry – The Big Green Ball

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The Big Green Ball

Big green ball

To kick around

It’s just a game

Too soon and gone

The wear and tear

Such a shame

Opher 25.6.2018

Big Green Ball

While I was driving around the country I had plenty of time to think. What we are doing to the planet, the loss of so many species, the ravaging of our rainforests, the overpopulation – it all drives me mad.

In the course of my lifetime the world has changed enormously. Nature has been devastated. What I used to take as granted is being eroded every single day.

Living creatures are being wiped out and their interests ignored. If there is money to be made they come in a poor second.

Many people are so cruel. Recently I read of reports of attacks on orangutans. On three different occasions orangutans have been found dying or severely injured riddled with air-gun pellets. One had 140 pellets, including 70 in its head. One died after being riddled with 107 pellets, another had 137 pellets and lost its sight. Which crawl maggots would do such things to such intelligent gentle creatures?

What are we doing to the world? We are kicking the life out of it.

Further shots from up my hill – Photos

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Since lockdown began 440 days ago I’ve been taking a daily five mile walk up my hill (occasionally further afield). These are a few shots as Spring turns into Summer!!

Summer – my favourite month!! I love the warmth!

The Huge red Bracket Fungus

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I thought you might like to see a few of the places I’ve been going to on my walks since lockdown has eased. We’ve been seeing more people and going further!

This is a huge bracket fungus. It’s halfway up my hill! It was a bit past its best when I finally managed to photograph it. It had lost a lot of its redness and had been nibbled a bit – but still pretty impressive!

Nature’s great!

Poetry – Planet Earth

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Planet Earth

It is the thirteenth of June 2018

On a warm summer’s day

That I have spent writing and reading.

It was a pleasant day.

Yet there were no swifts in the sky this afternoon.

I am sorry for that.

My garden is full of flowers and the grass is mown

But there is no room for nature.

I am sorry for that too.

What are we doing to you?

How can you bear it?

As we dig and chop,

Fence and rip,

Sterilise and sanitise.

Is this what you want?

That we should tame and reduce?

Tie you in knots?

And reduce your complexity

To our simplicity?

How long will you put up with it?

Mother Earth

Are you powerless?

Planet earth can you hear me?

I am talking to you.

You gave me so much

And I value it all.

But this is becoming less by the day.

How can you bear to see so much destroyed?

So many creatures killed?

So much cruelty and pain?

Planet Earth

Is it alright if we cause you to bleed like this?

Planet Earth

You’ve given me a full life

Laden with stars, sunsets and rainbows

Rocks, trees and seas,

Creatures of all kinds,

Plants and wonders

Always wonders –

How can I repay you?

You’ve been my home for 69 years –

An endless time of love and change.

All I can do

Is say thank you.

I am so sorry.

Opher 13.6.2018

I do not happen to believe in Gaia – that the planet is really alive and has consciousness. At least I don’t think so. That type of mysticism is attractive but fanciful.

But I did find it an interesting poetic idea to talk to her as if she was alive.

So what is there to be said?

It seemed to me that the most important thing was to apologize for the mess we are making.

Life is so obviously the jewel in the crown. Life, in all its forms, is a marvel. Yet do we hold it sacred? No we do not. We are destroying species after species, ravaging habitats with impunity and treating life with disdain.

There is an arrogance about mankind that insists that humans are the only worthwhile life upon the planet. That is risible. All life is important. We all started from that same one miracle cell. We’ve all evolved for the same length of time. We all fit together in this remarkable jigsaw puzzle of life. Yet that is the jigsaw puzzle that we are dismantling. We are throwing away piece after piece. Soon we will lose sight of the big picture.

We need to start appreciating it.

I’m sorry Planet Earth. We’re acting like spoilt brats.

Cape Verde – Mindelo – The artwork with an environmental theme

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As we walked back from the beach we passed this array of artwork with such great environmental themes!

Fab!!

A Narrow Belt of Colour

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A Narrow Belt of Colour

A narrow belt of bright colour on the sea of monoclonal green;

An elongated oasis of life among the sterilised land;

A thin strand.

Within these tiny parameters,

Vestiges of what once was,

Nature makes its last stand.

Opher 7.6.2021

As I went for my daily walk here in early June I was heartened by the thick swathes of flowers on the verge and hedgerows of the country lane.

The other side of the hedge was a great sweeping field of wheat – identical plants, sown in rows, all the same age, carefully supplied with nutrients, sprayed with pesticide and herbicide and nurtured into a huge sweeping green desert in which nothing else can live.

The other side of the hedge was a sanitised nightmare.

One day, when we are gone, the verges and hedgerows will reclaim the fields, the vestiges will expand to become all, and the land will spring back to life again.

Poetry – There is no time

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There is no time

Amid the anguish and the blame,

Amid the anger and the shame,

Between the laughter and the fun,

Between the torture and the pun,

There is no time.

The time when antelopes ran free,

The time when gorillas had trees,

The time when elephants had room,

The time when whales were not doomed,

Has past and gone.

What is gone cannot come back,

What is past is history,

When time runs out,

There is no room,

When room runs out there is no space,

For even mystery.

Opher 13.4.2018

Not very long ago nature was dominant. Humans were few and their impact was less. Humans roamed the world in wooden ships. It was dangerous and took months and years. They explored jungles on expeditions requiring hordes of porters and discovered the heart of darkness.

Life teemed over the planet in its myriad of forms.

Yes we’d already had an impact. It seems the first sign of humans moving into an area was the eradication of the megafauna. They were hunted to extinction in no time at all. We will never set eyes on a giant sloth, giant kangaroo, mastodon or mammoth. They and the rest of their giant cousins were hunted to death.

For the rest it is taking a little longer.

Now we have planes and roads. What once took months and years now takes hours. In such a short time the impact is massive. Time is running out. We are working our way through the tiny, medium and rare. There is no time left for many of them and the rest wait their turn.

Po e tree – A tree

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A Tree

A poem for the eye to wonder at;

A sculpture for the hand to touch;

A painting against a barren landscape;

A song upon the breeze.

A home for a multitude;

A refuge from the storm;

A meal for a hungry family;

A shelter from the sun.

A living organism;

A breathing plant;

An aware being;

Part of a community.

A giant who lives;

A treasure that gives;

A triumph of evolution;

So easily destroyed.

A tree is not merely wood.

A wood is not merely trees.

Opher – 6.6.2021

I make no apology for loving trees. I don’t hug them – at least not often – but I do adore them.

I can appreciate them on so many levels.

They are nature’s works of art – so delicate, so beautiful.

They have given us food and shelter.

They have given us our atmosphere.

A tree is not merely wood. It is so much more!

Poetry – There’s no room

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There’s no room

Pruned trees in rows,

Furrows in rows,

Houses in rows,

Brows in furrows,

There’s no room.

Pesticide clouds,

Smoke clouds,

Particle clouds,

Mushroom clouds,

Clouds in shrouds,

There’s no room.

Weeds eradicated,

Pests eradicated,

Vermin eradicated,

Eradicate the fate,

There’s no room.

Opher 13.4.2018

There’s no room at the inn of nature. We’ve taken every available space.

A million weary creatures are looking for a place to lay their heads, find sustenance and give birth. They’re scratting around between the neat furrows of our lives and pawing over the detritus we leave in our wake.

Life is hard and getting harder.

Once they were part of a great cycle. They had their place. Now they are reduced to the position of pest and hounded for their lives. Each new year that passes brings another weapon to assail them with.

There is no place where they can belong.