I Gave You All.

I Gave You All.

I gave you all, said "Come, lie with me,

on me, in me, by me, through me,

gaze upon me, caress me.

I give you life and beauty too-

all I have is yours to share

but please place me gently in your care."

But you have torn my garments,

stolen my jewels, scarred my face,

besmeared and besmirched my skin,

groped and gouged my secret parts-

your rule, cruel, your treatment, rough,

so insatiable you can never get enough.

I writhe and cry out in protest.

I heave and crack,

send mighty tempests.

I stop the rain.

I send parching heat.

I must struggle and strive

and cry for help.

I plead too, say,

"Come, repent, be my friend,

be tender, gentle, make amends,

it is not yet too late to start again.

Think for a moment of the future.

Those children left will bemoan your folly,

and, despairing about their hope and fate,

curse your abusive misrule,

and you for being a short-sighted fool."

O can we not live together?

I give you life and beauty.

Can you then not care for me,

love me, work with me

or must I, at last, finally, regretfully, 

in deepest sorrow

turn my back and put you out.

Published in Verse-Virtual and in The Weekly Avocet

Then.

Then.

Then the earth went quiet.

No creature called.

No background hum.

No crickets, cicadas, frogs.

Birds gasped, opened their beaks,

held out their wings to cool,

then fell to the ground.

Then water took low atolls,

covered dunes,

inched up river valleys,

covered abandoned houses

and twisted war machines,

lapped tall towers

still standing like strange sentinels

in the orange tinted tide.

Then, on the far horizon,

the sun flamed dirty smudge,

lit the mountains 

and the haggard faces

of the survivors

moving higher and higher

over the pock-marked land.

Then suddenly it dipped

into impenetrable black.

No silver pepper of stars.

No moon, though the ocean

still ebbed and flowed.

Then only darkness

covered the face 

of the mighty deep.

Published in Autumn Sky Daily.

Birds

Birds.

His head is brilliant blue

his composition bright and fair

and the fairy wren with jaunty flit

hops and bounces through the air.

This head is scarlet red,

the flight all speed and swerve.

as rosella glides on brilliant wings

in dipping, parabolic curve.

In his suit of black and white

and rising heavily from the ground

the magpie flies with a swish,

a muscular, purposeful sound.

Crow’s song is a monotonous caw,

his feathers are dull and black,

but he still rises into the air

in slow, direct and functional flap.

The butcher bird pours liquid song

into the morning light

whilst eagles on high thermals soar

and falcons dive with speed of flight.

Crow, wren or hawk, I love them all

and I raise my head to stare

in silent praise and wonderment

as they slip and glide in silken air.

Published in The Weekly Avocet

The Fallen Forest Tree.

The Fallen Forest Tree.

I think on this blue planet,  

slant of rain, scud of cloud,

surge of river, the glittering sea,

flocks that flit, dart or soar,

wandering herds, encircling wolves,

coral blaze, fish, whale and krill,

leopard lazing in curve of tree,

myriad life given and accepted back

over aeons as the spinning earth treks

through the black void of space.

I raise my eyes from the fallen tree

to the tree tops and to the sky.

The abundant cycle of life and loss

stretches endlessly beyond 

this transient moment where I live,

yet why should I regret its brevity?

I embrace its mystery and privilege,

thankful that for at least this brief moment 

I have lived to gaze upon the earth 

in deep wonder and in awe.

First Published in Praxis Mag Online