Tag: Nature

Giant hogweed (2019 Re-post)

Taller than grown men
silent reminder
of human folly

One look at you
one whiff of scent
declares intent

This land your domain
roots spread foundation
seeds spread your vanguard

To combat your growth
we must don armour
One touch might burn us

Arm ourselves for
axes will fell your
sturdy stems like trunks

Poisonous sap flow
burns skin in sunlight
blisters and blackens

Down but dangerous
still lying in wait
Second growth or seeds

Wait for guerrilla
warfare without end
Generations feud

We teach our children
to heed the danger
to combat your spread

Write history books
declaring lack of
knowledge led us here

Still we change Nature
before learning of
her intricate ways

©REDCAT

Re-post comment:

I’ve been struggling all day with writing a song.
Keeping every line between five to eight syllables long.
So this poem came to mind for tonight’s
Wandering the Archives Wednesday.

The Return Of The Giant Hogweed by Genesis

Written for Kim’s prompt at dVerse ~ Poetics: Sylvia and Ted. Where we’re asked to write about growing, multiplying, invasive species. As well as try to emulate style of one of the poets.

I decided upon the challenge to keep my line short, with five syllables in each like Sylvia Plath’s Mushroom. It took some editing, but eventually I got there. But boy, do my inner saboteurs have a field day every time I decide to say I actually can do something that connects with writing. Just as they did when I decided to make a new translation of one of Edith Södergran’s poems.
Even though I actually have paid bills working as a freelance translator.

As yesterday’s Haibun challenge showed me how much harder I have with counting syllables in English than my native Swedish. This time I put most words trough a syllable counter I found online.

Wikipedia informed me that this weed too have at least one song to it’s honor.

Image Credits:

First image: Wiki Commons

Second image: By Ronnie Robertson, CC BY-SA 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0, via Wikimedia Commons

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Bumbling Bumblebee (2020 Re-post)

Blenda the bumptious bumpkin bumblebee bumbled back and forth bumming nectar from bees.

Before long, the bees barrelled and bumped into Blenda. “Back away from our blossoms”, they buzzed.

Boring bees, a bummed out Blenda thought. Perchance the botanist holds a bumbling bumblebee beloved.

© RedCat

Re-post comment:

As autumn cold nips every night and morning now. I thought this little alliteration Quadrille with it’s taste of summer was a good re-post for this week’s Wandering the Archives Wednesday.

Enjoy!

Photo by Adonyi Gu00e1bor on Pexels.com

Quadrille Monday over at dVerse. And I went a bit bananas with the word bum in a myriad forms.

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Full Moon Magic – An Acrostic Plus Poem

Forever and ever
Us witches pray
Lay your blessing on us
Let your wisdom guide us
Make us live in harmony
Once and forever
On this night we swear
Never to let evil near

Never be swayed by them
Who sees nature as an expendable cornucopia
We will protect her from harmful overusing
With one voice, together we say, I
am a proud defender of Gaia’s chaos systemic

© RedCat

Written for Poetics: For the love of puzzles . . . at dVerse. Where Lilian invents a new poetic form. An expansion of the Acrostic poem, she calls Acrostic Plus. I always loved puzzles of all kinds. So even though I find acrostic’s hard to write, they can easily be nonsensical, I had to give it a try.

Lillian writes: 

In an Acrostic poem, the first letter of each line, when read from top to bottom, will spell out a message or a name or a word.

In the Acrostic Plus, the first letter of each line in the first stanza, when read from top to bottom, spells out a message or word(s) and in the second stanza, the last letter of each line when read from top to bottom, spells out the rest of the message or additional word(s).

To me, one of the most important things in both the Acrostic and the Acrostic Plus, is that the poem makes sense. The form cannot overrun the meaning. I suppose that’s the case with any form of poetry.

Image credits:

First image: Photo by Anton Repponen on Unsplash
Second image: Photo by Karina Vorozheeva on Unsplash
Third image: Photo by __ drz __ on Unsplash

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#WorldWolfDay, #InternationalWolfDay

I’m proud and happy to have my poem She-Wolf featured on The Wombwell Rainbow alongside stunning art by Kirstin Armstrong for #WorldWolfDay, #InternationalWolfDay

The Wombwell Rainbow

World. Wolf Day

wolf 3wolf 2

wolf 1 All wolf artwork by Kirstin Armstrong

She-Wolf

She arrives in dreams
The white she-wolf
Nipping and yipping
Around the Soul
Until it’s fully awake
Conscious of the surrounding Wildwood

One eye shines with sky-wisdom
The other, by now ferocious ruby red
Colour of mega-fires
Shade of blood for all the fallen animal-kin

Her howl echoes with pain
Grief
Rage
A billion souls burnt

Call that reverberate to the bone
Dream-sound break the hush
Stir archetypes awake

Nature are poisoned
Hurt
Ravaged
Out of balance
A continent burning

The wild howl will break sleep
Until the fallen are remembered

©RedCat

the wolf bites

the wolf bites the moon
wisp clouds mask red nakedness
shadows on my mind

-Simon Salento January 16, 2020 

 

On Being Pursued By A Wolf

Their nattering had gone on long enough.  The wolf crooked its enormous head suddenly, and they ducked down lower…

View original post 1,171 more words

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Daily Haibun, August Song (August 5th)

Outside is a cacophony of play. The sound of late summer nights. Insects playing their song.

For some reason it makes me feel a bit melancholic. Like I’m mourning a season not yet gone.

Maybe it’s just fear of the unknown. Trepidation at throwing myself into a new life situation.

There’s also tender hope, the seasons will turn, and I’ll begin to learn. Taking the first steps on a new journey. Sowing the seeds of coming adventures. Part of me can’t wait.

As seasons turn, we

grow and learn, sowing mind seeds

that will sprout next spring.

© RedCat

Read other Haibun’s written for the monthly dVerse prompt by me here.

Read other Daily Haibun’s here.

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Human Missconceptions (2020 Re-post)

Art by helldivo at DeviantArt 

We see trees to fell

We fail to hear the stories a forest can tell

Timber to count

Of life giving life, until we come Gaia’s fount

Land to clear

Rebirth and renewal every year

Fields to sow

How nature nothing away throws

We see nature as something to tame

Our beloved planet will never be the same

We must learn, or live in man made hell
Teach each other to hard challenges surmount
Learn to hold our only planet dear
Accept that to some laws of nature we must bow
Because if Earth dies beneath our feet, we only got ourselves to blame

© RedCat

Re-post comment:

Nearly a year on I wish I could say we have taken strides to change our behavior. To remind us all this becomes this week’s archive poem.

In The Anthropocene Hymnal we share poetry about our slow sleepwalk into Armageddon.

Inspiered by the beautiful artwork shared by The Sunday Muse.

Also posted to Writers’ Pantry #34 at Poets and Storytellers United.

Source
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Chestnut Trees – Flash Fiction

PHOTO PROMPT © Brenda Cox

” – It’s nothing to worry about, just a little wind. “

Little did he know it was a storm sent by vindictive spirits. Upset by the way he’d ignored the law of the land.

He’d come back from studying abroad, saying we needed to do things like modern folks did. Taming nature to our ends, not relying on her blessings. So he dammed the rivers and chopped down the woods to make workhouses spewing smoke day and night. When the wise ones cautioned him, he called them silly old soothsayers.

In the morning. Not one of his prized chestnut trees still stood.

© RedCat

Georg Eiermann on Unsplash

Written for this week’s Friday Fictioneers.

Click here to participate or read more stories.

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