Selections

ermine

The fox

The fox stalked across the field in the late afternoon light

A ragged and thread bare specimen, ravaged from the cruel cold winter

That lengthened into February

He stops looks round searchingly

Yet distracted, somehow fidgeting with his own dire experience

His own state of affairs

My mother points out the starlings swooping above him as they ready to roost

Among the levels further down along the reeds

The fox moves sleekly, slinking like a chain of bones concertinaing

And then squats to lay his scent or shit

I have almost lost interest as he becomes the grey of sky, the brown and pale yellows of winter hedgerows

May be he was the fox that ate our chickens I say to my mother

All those years ago

He is an intruder, yet somehow respected for his cleverness despite this. And I feel somehow very safe and sanitized in this my mother’s house but seeing him also vulnerable. Like seeing a thief from behind the confines of a ‘CCTV’ camera – catching him in the act. It is the interest in his survival, his spirit and hut spa. Confidence in wildness, somehow he will always be there, in the back of your mind.

Otter

Otter sleek, Minky whale black

Bitter as beer, the coal black water

Mirrors as obsidian

This corpuscular form

Meiosis divided itself

From the jelly mass of the lake

Yet never breaking the meniscus

- it bobs it's whiskers appear damp

And shining

Back rises and slinks back into the black

Great Breech Wood

I went to walk in Great Breech wood

And found myself where trees abound

The North wind blew between dead twigs

And curled the leaves that lay on the ground

My nose it twitched, my ears they itched

I felt the presence of deer and hounds

I saw a squirrel run to a trees furthest reach

And heard the forest birds song of sound

The nettles stung, the beeches browned

The Oaks were strengthened by the ground

The leaves curled in the winter furls

That twirled the wind and around me wound

And my love did call from beneath an ash’s eves

Like a satellite I was drawn to its planetary crown

Then Great breach wood was torn asunder

It gave forth lumber of Larch and pine

All of it under a winter storms thunder

Which rattled the bones of all those near

Their toppling heights and treacherous climbs

My dear lady was struck by a bolt of lightening

A love dart from the Gods struck her in her prime

And the planetary dark that ensued was a wonder

To walk in this park I felt was a crime

My romantic soul wished to lurch in search of a number

By which I could dial then bring back the time

But the forest which was wiser than mountains

Held my soul fast so alone I did climb

To birth the last hope I had of my loved one

And set her soul free her one God to find

Now alone I walked through the forest alive

Badgers scurried like bank clerks collecting

Their wad of twigs and worms like knives

The wood pecker sung the pigeon cooed

A single black bird alone mewed

And rats slumbered beneath

Rotting tree limbs

As foxes cavorted singing howling hymns

Then the forest was then quiet as a graveyard hushed

As greenery flourished

And foliage lushed

The sandal wearing saint was knighted

The night began its game

Half housed between this world and the next

Advantaged

As in the eves called the owls

And many Stations of the Cross were planted

As herbs and forest plants were avowed

Into sacred celebration

Of the moon lit majestic cows (boughs)

Who’s alien forms besmirched the landscape

And past the night with heavy sounds

Until in the dawn rose the single starlings

In the flock of chorus loud

And beneath the canopy of heaven

Wrote the names of those in shroud

To be remembered by the martyrs

Who had seen and died,

And lived then bowed

And this I saw while I was walking

All this was mine of to be most proud

Inside the Breech of the Great Wood Vaunting

And opened its vaults to the sun and the cloud

The Garden Stroll

In the early light

When witches candles turn low to smite

The earthly walkers on a stroll

Beside an ancient garden wall

Then one says to the other

“How strange!?

The brick work of Eden has been rearranged.”

As they ponder mortar and stone

They feel the feeling they aren’t alone

Then an archway becomes clear

Designated this way; ”Do not Enter Here!”

They hold hands then cross the threshold

Into a garden bright and so bold

The green’s of willow

The lush of Ash

Oaken avenues stand in stash

All look starkly like someone’s preserve

They feel darkly like they do not deserve

And then a hare and next a rabbit

Come by close as if by habit

Disarmed the intruders are quite standoffish

Then they realise they appear quite selfish

And pet and talk kind words to the mammals

Feeling next they may meet some camels

As they stand and pervade the view

The garden’s paradise changes hue

And far over a foreign hill

They see Cain fight Able, until one is killed

And open under heaven’s skies

They see rains fall and flooded lies

Noah’s Ark is there by chance

But many a bad creature takes death’s dance

And suddenly they too are running from the flood

By this they find the ties of water

Much stronger than those of blood

All washed up now on heaven’s shore

They think of their stroll to the garden’s core

And they think to themselves, but neither comment

They should not walk in wherever they wanted

Sing oh Lord

Sing oh Lord to the moon and the sky

To the land of the Blind

Where the pity birds fly

And bees buzz merry like the fruits and the flies

In the land where the pity birds fly

Sing oh Lord to the ones who have many

And the ones who are lost

But have not crossed on the ferry

Sing oh Lord to the Queen of the sky

To the Land where the pity birds fly

Hear their song, like a balm on the cherry

Like a sweet salve to the unchained mind

Hear oh lord how they sing you a tune

In the land where the pity birds festoon

Hear oh lord how their hearts are not heavy

With the price of their lives or the hanging moon

Hear oh Lord just what they may stir

In the land where the pity birds flew

Duck Pond

Deep in the duck pond

Where the green weed grows

And the straw is yellow

Next to the track,

Where the ivy creeps beneath the Alder and Willow

Which brush their stems and stem their flow back

Deep in the duck pond

Where the green weed grows

Ducks fight and splash about

It could be a war or a turn about

Or a pair of lovers in a spate

One who loves, the other who hates

But deep in the duck pond

They see to their deed

Where the willow weeps in the green duck weed

Down in the duck pond,

Where fellows blow their horn

And the little spirited sprout

Sings for the sweet summer corn

While the West wind blows

Then across it the Easterly is torn

All along the deep duck pond

Where all the birds were born

Severed heads on severed spikes

All seem dead but go ask the tyke

Shadows shake in the shallows like

The deep duck pond

Of the bad old Pike

He swims about, he asks not twice

He sees a snout, then snaps his vice

And there he has you, pulls you down

Into the depths of the duck pond to drown

Where hell is a spirit on the water

And the wind chills the slender necks of swans

And the rails with the moor hens daughter

Falls to the pails and the sweet shorn sun

Where the kale sways in the shallows

And the bulrushes blow their seed

Deep as heartache over the water

Of the deep duck pond with the green duck weed

Nature Poems - Birds

Birds BTO

Poems about Flat Holm Birds

Ode to a Buzzard

Oh Buzzard

Harbinger of death

Augury man above

On your miracle, spiracle of breath

What did the Roman’s make of you?

You man of War, of ides

The soothsayers look up to see you crossing the sun

Of their dark days

Skull as a battle warriors helmet, visor down

Omen days

Buteo, buteo

Occipital holes, below heavy brows

Beyond is the world

Within the oracle of her mind

The subuteo men go walking beneath

And she is like a goddess

Who holds their belief

Come visit this isle of the dead

A suitable repose

To make your hunting ground

And roses’ bed

You are always above roses and poppies

Scavenger, scanner

Of starvation’s horizon

The hunger circumference of your vision

Which fades with the sunset

And its ring is set by the stone

Of the moon.

Ode to a Peregrine

Forward, forward all ye sea cannons.

All ye barrages of the swell

Here I stand in my cliff cabin

Knowing ye intruders well

Forward, forward screech

Ye of impossible reach

The scream of alarm into your soul

So schooled in the art of the fooled,

I am a witch on a broom

A thorough bred racing down a fell

I am an instant in your time

I wear the disguise of death,

My hues and clothes demark me well

I am your first and last breath

Peregrine am I,

The Lord of the sky

The high Sultan of the Salty Perch

In my crow’s nest

I am scare crow, caw, caw

Black the congregation of my high church

Fall in ye gulls, ye gabbling ranks

Commoners take turns to fish the sea with thanks

I thank not the gel,

Nor its green brown pell-mell

I am as quick as honey, I smell with my flanks

These eves of rocks I chose for the view

Those shore leave in the docks show

Where my shadow sheaves

And time me on clocks

I make land fall before Eve

May pluck an apple for Adam

And let it fall from her sleeve

Hunting a pigeon on the wing

It is a smidgeon of a thing

For what I enjoy

Is to play with this toy

As a train racing track

When I attack

I smother and sting

With Talon and Beak

I rend skin from wing

Then back to the nest

I deliver the rest

I am the postman with the fastest letter

I am the messenger king

The carrier of carrion

The bringer of tides

Don’t shoot the messenger if you dislike what he brings

Whether evil tidings

Or indiscernible things

The message did not return one evening

The bird was not heard

The vital war time correspondence

Fell silent in my mouth

Yet its secret I kept safe

For I did not speak a word

Questions Where AM I?

On what enlightened bay

Do the tides of time descend?

On how sweet an afternoon

Of light astray

Can the scarlet pimpernel festoon?

Where do the oysters catch?

And where do the gulls loom?

In the fasted Lapis sky

Beneath the hay making sun

How does the bracken grow?

How weaves the stinging nettle?

Through what thistle do the finches whistle?

Or over what cliff is heard

The peregrines steaming, screaming kettle

How comes it that I am here?

For to tell what enters mine ear?

And why for do the black birds mew?

Or the crow caw, caw

Or why do the rabbits run, lapis lapidary

Lapin lapping the blue from the sky

The yellow from the chicken sun

The silver from the harvest moon

The white from the clouds undone

How comes it the temperate chain lies unbroken?

The wind to cool, the sun to heat

How is it that words left unspoken?

Best describe this nature’s beat

Birding

Can you catch an oyster with an oyster catcher?

Or shank a red, red shank

Can you shell the shell of a shell duck?

Or dun a Dunnock to his bank

And are you the one to witness the whim of a Whimbrel?

Or take cool turns with an Arctic Tern

Oh please tell me what Birding is in the end all about

Will you buzz a buzzard out on a panel show of ornithological knowledge?

To be cock of the walk, rank high in the pecking order of chickens in the run

While the sun is out

Will you gan at a Gannet, like you may gander a goose

Or might you take a puff at a puffin

Before with a sly smile turn him loose?

Might you throw a wad at a wader

Or take a snipe at a snipe

With your lens he is in the eye of the beholder

But do you see an eye for an eye

Or a tooth for a tooth

Can you turn over every stone in your search for a Turnstone?

Will you turn tail and run from a gull

Or gull at him back through the clear light of truth

May you lessen his black back?

Simply by painting him grey like the weather

Or fledge a fletch of his juvenile feathers

In the arrows of a Robin’s Hood

To hoodwink a Starling who sparred with a Sparrow

Tell me kindly if you’ve understood

Did you put the black bird down in your little black book?

Or put down the lark as a clown with a stern black look?

Did you flinch at a finch when he came around?

Was it you who took the voice from the mute swan?

Do any of you really have a choice in your wan?

Or like the grey goose do your clothes have some use?

You may hide in your hides, ride down your rides

Or follow the moth and the fly

For an insect is a gift to the very fast swift

As a wood pigeon is

To the peregrine or the Lord of the Sky

And not forgetting the crow

Who you too well may know

For his corvidian cousin the Raven

Has driven you stark raving Mad

With his gang of dark vandals

Who are no strangers to scandals

In amongst the nests and eggs of the coot

And should you hold a full suit

Or a good gambit of feathery friends in your hand

Please keep them safe and

Sound advice is this :You may remember it is best

To believe you are blest

And unlike the cuckoo who intrudes on a nest

For the others eggs out he will push

But know without doubt

Your life is not worth a short snout

For a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush

Dead Gulls

 Dead gulls on coal beach

Black lulls the green sea’s reach

Spreading fingers through

Pebbles beneath

Lifting their bodies in tow

Their bodies are flung

Down to the gems in the sand

Where sea nymphs stove treasure

And fairies make foam cakes

And they carry the sleeping birds escort

Out to sea

To the watery grave to sleep

With the tides eternal deep

Buteo

Buteo, Buteo

Where for art thou Buteo?

On what holy wooded hedge

Where you make our hooded ledge

And wherefore do you fly?

Forever a convict of the sky

And conviction yes

More is the less

As with auspices make your pledge

Your blood bond to swear by

Vow your vows

Bow your heads

Here comes the vouchsafe

Of your lives

Give money, give roses, poses of heather

Black is the beak, brown is the feather

The air in some torpid atmosphere

Breaks like breakers of a wild sea

Snapping like a belt of leather

Sends up vapours

On whose thermals see thee

Oh how grubby are the praying hands

When they come together

Beneath wedding bands

And marriage yet between

Sky and land

Though thou art unknowable times of sand

For where do you come from?

Who is your mother?

Thy father is every falcon

Every hunter back to the age of man

But how many mothers can

Give birth to your skill

Your art is the destroyer

How learnt thou to kill?

Who taught you? Treacherous sky and wind

Tempest belly was thy womb

But land that keeps your harboured pledge

Vouchsafe in him

Your meat and bread

Father provider to a son born of the air

Always crossing the sun

But what cares the sun for poor Buteo Buteo?

He is forever a traveller

In search of his carrion loot

In search of dead gold

When the sun is treasure chest

Enough for this pirate

Who sails blue pastures

What more wealth can be searched for?

When wisdom is the treasure the sun has in store

And he but transmuted

The vessel of nature’s law

Sign giver and guide all those

Who worship him and him adore

Yet his auspice given, rewards

Neither love nor hate

But like the majesty of heaven

Reigns down equal upon those from His pearly gate

Reflections on an Island :Letter from an Island

The wind is howling now

A gale out to sea

The gulls all look pale

In a marked misery

They are petals

Collected on the flat rocks

Which lie who knows why

When around them

Are all jagged vertical alumni

I’m writing home

On a Saturday

To say

The visitors never came

The sea it was too rough

Hopes candle dwindled

To a low flame

We occupy our time

In occlusions from the high eye

Victorian built bunkers

Where are stored work tools

Where we make driftwood benches

And walk along the shore

On our feet are Wellington boots

In our hands are bow saws

We topple and slip and hop

 Over the newly wetted rocks

Look in at rock pools

By the white sea-foam fringes stop

At first I thought a bird had died

But it was not feathers

Rather lathered up plankton water

Aerated by the belts of wind like leathers

Across waves as if chastising unruly sons and daughters

At night we wait until the last light from the sky has gone

Before turning on

The bulbs of electric

And a fire is a blessing every few days

Because there is nowhere to go

We become important to each other

And habits of meal times are sacred things

Not to be broken

As marriage vows and rings

Conversation usually goes well

Few things stand as tokens

Except doing unto others as you would have done unto yourself

The unwritten authority of the warden in most things

Is left unspoken

We defer to him as lost sheep

Sometimes he is our shepherd

What he has an abundance of is confidence

And a love of food

In some respects we may not get on without him

Gem Stones and Cross Bones

flatholm

Gem Stones and Crossed Bones

Albert the albatross

Met Gary the gull

From their perch

They search the blue horizon

And fly off to find

Where their spirits will guide them

And off and on, they swing in song

In the salty arms of the sea

In the up lifting palms

Of a rising swell

In the vapours which like volcanoes bellow

And toss them and turn them

Like pancakes in the air

Like Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire

They dance the midnight air

 

Until they alight on an island

And they’ve been gone for a month long

And the Briny had bind and bridled them

And like husband and wife

They endure much strife

Until the island may find and unbind them

Unwind in curls of curlews

And the coils of the spiralling vines

And the grapes dark juice

Like blood in vermouth

And fresh water they drink from the well

And the sluice will wash

Their feather downs on them

And that let it be said,

What cannot be said

Is that Albert was somewhat of a pirate

And Gary the gull did not know very well

And he went along like an innocent fledgling

To the plots and the schemes

Of the Trosse’s grand dreams

Of what he could stow on the island

And they came one day

To a ship all at bay

With a skull and cross bones a flag it

And as a swarthy swag

Albert swooped down onto a bag

And carried it off down beside him

And the ship’s crew blew

Their voices so blue

The whole sea could have come up from inside them

And they cursed the birds

And what was worst they swore

To track down and find them

Soon Albert and the gull

Had made land fall

And found the swarthy crew not far behind them

Jogging up and down in their boats

Mad as wild goats

Hopping in their rage to the island

Now the bag that Albert took

Was heavy as a book

Weighed down with the words of the lord

But when they opened it up

With a swift cut

They found there the work of no good book

Only that of an evil sword

For there in the black

Lay shining flax

Of gold as if thread to fine hair

And entwined around

A broach and a crown

With a ruby and a diamond set square

Now these gems had belonged

To a king for not long

For just after his coronation

He was mugged while on Royal tour

The jewels lugged to smugglers off shore

And the all the islanders said what an abomination

And these same pursuing pirates they were the culprits

But Albert could not preach from his high pulpit

 On which with Gary now he perched

For he too had become thief

But his life would be too brief

If to its rightful owners he did not make amends and be researched

So Gary stood true

To the Law which he knew

In his innocent way he must follow

And persuaded Albert likewise

To be as wise guys

And fly with him south to the king like the swallow

So off they went

Not soon enough had they vent

When the captain of the sailors he them espied

And taking direction and wind speed

Guessed what course correction they would need

And so in hot pursuit his ship smartly replied

Now to the islands of Fiji

The birds fondly journey

With cusp and a weight to their throw

For as the gull flies, so likewise the crow

(And less so the burdened Albatross)

So like a true cross

This martyred Albatross

Had to carry his weight for mankind

In the one hope to tell

That there would await no true hell

But a Kingly welcome in Fiji they might find

And just like a thief

Albert felt the relief

When he at last confronted his benefactor

And hoping his good news

Would prevent the King from his own abuse

Or shoot the messenger as malefactor

*****

Dropping the crown jewels

And broach at the king’s feet

Who now rode in a caravan of mules down the street

Instead of a crown of gold

He wore a crown made of reed

But his people still loved him for he was only good without greed

Albert spoke to Gary

Look how they tarry

They are in no want of jewels and gold

But Gary said to Albert

They won’t be fooled by the dirt

When they see their stolen crown as brass is bold

So they alighted in front of them

The caravan of mules

And their presence soon arrested it

Like they had brought from heaven some new rules

And between the gap

Albert emptied out the bag of jewels

And the King slapped his lap

And instead of a crown

He wore a hat made of reeds

But his people still loved him

For he was a good king far from greed

Albert spoke to Gary,

“Look how they tarry

They are in no want of jewels and gold.”

But Gary said to Albert

“Do not be fooled, this is no Port Talbot

And those jewels you carry there

Were stolen and not sold.”

So they alighted in front of them

The caravan of mules

And their presence soon arrested it

To a face down like a duel

And between Albert emptied the bag of the King’s jewels

And said here your Majesty, please take back what belongs to you and yours

Well the king was overjoyed

But asked these skyward buoys

Wherefore and how they came into their possession

And Gary smartly explained

That a Captain now complained

And pursued them both with a mad obsession

“He has sailed seven seas

Crossed pacific and Atlantic,

In a condition quite frantic

In his search for a purchase on his lost treasure

And it would be his pleasure

To tear us wing from wing

If he could only catch us at our leisure

But we have hardly slept

For this burden we have kept

To return it to the rightful King

But I fear you may expect

A visit from this prime suspect

At a day and hour soon in the offering

So king and country made their plans

And excited the caravan

To bring the jewels back to his fortress hold

Which though it be a meagre island in the chain of many

The King’s stronghold could not be said to be short of a penny

And for a goodly while the birds felt quite safe

Except for one day when the black flag was spotted bobbing in the bay

And they knew without delay

That come what come what may

The Captain soon would make his appearance in their stay

And sure enough at dead of night

With cutlass and flaming torch light

The terrible pirate gang made their press

And they scaled the high walls

And fired cannon balls

And brought to its knees the King’s fortress

But it was at break of day

On that terrible troubled bay

That the Albatross faced down the Captain

“You may step not forth

On this King’s berth

You must turn back and go the other way.

But the Captain’s steel cutlass sang

A song so close to the Albatross’s pang

That he feared stand long

Or the pirate’s path to cross

Then to his friends need

Came Gary the Gull of brave deed

And pecked the Captain on the nose

Oh what a bleed!

Now as every ship’s mate knows

The Captain’s red, red nose

Is about as weak as papyrus reed

And he hit him on the spot

That happened to be hot

With some Pacific Island type of Fever

And it burst and went on bleeding

All over the King’s ceiling

And the Captain ran off red faced

His crew in tow

 

So let that be a lesson

That it is a privilege and indeed a blessing

To say Bless You to a Captain

When he blows his nose

And even to a whaler

Who bewares an Albatross’s ill favour

And from then on he has been a friend to all good sailors

As this story shows

And your mind may begin to think

Whether Albert and Gary still do link

And a friend informed me who I know quite well

That they yet wander the big lonely drink

Like best buddies they give a wink

And happily climb up over the next sea swell