A Tree Speaks

Our mountain home is a good placeWe are green of leaf and, fair of face

The raven’s wing covers our scars

And we trail our branches beneath the stars

Dance by the light of the cherry moon

Fearing the furious heat of June

When Our brothers fell in their habitat

Mown down by fiery flames so that

Some concrete blocks could take their home

And concrete people with hearts of foam

Will park their Eco-friendly vans

In villas carved from forestland

We trees our home ground cannot choose

In a war with man, we always lose.

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Evil words

The words upon the tip of your tongue stick in your throat like stones,

You eat them until they fill your gut with tiny inward moans

Words can be recycled, chewed up and swallowed down,

Despite their taste, they leave no waste,

Unspoken words won’t cause a frown

But released into the ether, those words can’t be recalled

Their evil taste and influence into other minds has crawled

Because words are used as weapons, as much as instruments of peace.

In a bloody war of rhetoric the assaults will never cease.

A poem in praise of breastfeeding

Daddy’s sinking underGlorious weight 

It is a grand mix

 of all the energy – butter, salt

And sugars we could find and fix

New cells growing, plant fibers, 

cereals and breads giving nutrition and

Proteins from fishes

Oils too for those shiny eyes

Strengthen the sight we need to see – Vitamin D – we always need

More and more – 

more and more carrots for cold climate kids

Sunlight for sons born too soon

Salts and fats all included in the pack

The necessary niceties of night 

The darkness is never so black

Mama is ready at the drop – of a hat, not a spoon

And good – “it’s ready

Soon as I can, wash my hands

Ok let’s go hand him here

Daddy you go back, to sleep

I’ve got this I’ll keep him growing

He’s a growing boy”

Glorious weight, full of joy

(And milk of course)

Thunderbirth (poetry prompt #1)

Ominous, malevolent

 pregnant-bellied

Cloud entwined within 

Herself and without – that

Soot-colored Sky

The turbulent and wild Sky

The air waves are fiZzling 

The cracking static hymns

Praising the parson at this demented wedding.

The wedding band strikes UP

A guitar twang and crash of drums

The flow of favorites come thick and fast

And the bride and groom twirl around 

Each other and faster

And faster

And faster they move,

Pulling their guests in their wake

and that dark pregnant belly breaks 

its water,

And we all attend the labour

The child, a girl

A daughter

April the first

The afterbirth 

Spring.

A New Avenue (poetry prompt #2)

I’ve seen it now,A new avenue

Straight and wise

Like a volcanic plume

Nothing is new 

under the sun

It was said 

by those who know

But I am here 

Far from our star

Not off the ground

But far below

Below our earth

In a space never seen

The tunnels run

For days and years

My mind is expanding

To fill the gloom

I carry not enough 

Light or food

To explore the vastness 

Which I have found 

In this tube of lava

Far underground.