In the dark forest

 

In the forest of the night

When the moon is beaming bright

And the lords and Ladies pray

Like the deadly night shade

Where the sedges twist, gestate

And the moss foments in state

See the creatures stir and stalk

As alone a wanderer walks

Then he stops then is still

As the willow whips its will

As the fir sways above

And the hill slips its glove

From the hand of darkness to the hand of light

Which spreads ever onwards to the forest’s night

And the owl and Badger, moth and mole

Fly to the light or to the hole

And the wild gooseberry gooses

In twisted bramble briars

Ancient rock and stones in nooses

Of the bindweed nettled lairs

And muddy lay the tracks

Cold and icy lays the snow

Animals watch their backs

As birds start to sing when dawn first shows

Mr Otter

 I am but an otter

An otter but am I

And if the butt gets Ott

Then the Otter better die

But if the Ott gets better

Then quite away I'll fly

Because I'm not an otter butter

But I am a butterfly

Mink

The mink delved among nettles and dead bracken

Moving quick and ferret like

It was brown, as a weasel

It slunk under rotten willow limbs and logs

Until it came to an abandoned rabbit hole or badger set

And sunk in

As one youth chased it and wielded a log above his head

Prepared to throw it

The mink bravely poked his body back up above the parapet

Of the bank

It stood there proud and unafraid

Perhaps more curious of the danger

Because it was both threat and interest that the two parties showed

We the onlookers on the other side of the bank could not have offered threat only curiosity

But the youth with the log was less curious more a real threat to the mink

In the event we stopped the youth from throwing his weapon at the animal

Out of humanity for its off spring as her death would have left them helpless in all likelihood

David Thurlow

 Zen like and nimble

Fit as a thimble

That shadowy man of the lair

Bearded not greedy

By rights not all there

Shaggy not bad tempered

Robust as his fencing

Traced back his lines to the roots

Whole hearted, out-smarted

by no one above him

You just have to love him

Mr Thurlow comes from stock of the bear

 

You shout in his direction

He hears not a question

But answers with meaningful stare

Romance is in him

No Lance corporal can wince him

That canny old elf of great care

 

I once had met

Some folk who could vet

They saw him leap five great stairs

Look in river or stream

He's near anything green

You cannot believe his clean hair

 

David Thurlows his name

But he's outside the game

Still winning while he's not in there

Do you wait by the river

Or stumble the gorge

There's a man who'll deliver

His life in the forge

Cast of iron or steel

You know it ain't real

But believe this man of the lair

 

Ghosts risen in steam,

The glen or the stream

Mr Thurlow will willow,

and billow your windrow

Til canal boat and thimble

Do thread where the wind blows

Then you'll hear his voice on the air

Calling come back and greet us

Ye locals and far reachers

And step your nimble feet in Ebbors lair

King Stink the Mink King

 I stole the peat

I stole the ground

I stole from the moorhens and ducks I found

I stole the water vole from out his hole

And made it mine

Now they pay my toll

 

I stole the coot

And kept as loot

Their egg,

They beg

Me to return it in time

But finders Keepers

What I find is mine

Between the railway sleepers

And under the pine

 

I sit upon my Lordly throne

Do what I like, to each his own

The otter’s pelt is what I smelt

And I burn it in my fire where it melts

There’s nobody better than the mink

There’s no more handsome a fellow

On the levels I think

 

The otter’s time has been and gone

I threw him out like I did the swan

Or else in his neck my teeth did sink

And his blood made wine for me to drink

 

I am king of great wealth

King am I, me and myself

Go fetch my coat

Ye servant stoat

Go lay down flat

Ye Meare cat

And humble yourself in my presence

Bring in fowl and game and pheasants

Today we feast in my name

King Stink or Darius the cruel

It’s all the same

For I wear the crown and the levels is my jewel

Rousseau-esque

 What is it we see?

When we walk out in January

The clematis seed in flower

Hanging like ghosts in the woodland bower

Or when the buxom beech, big and round

Its trunk like a tuber growing out of ground

Who’s mighty girth boasts

Of all the minerals it has found

 

Or when the iridescent greens

Strike up as if cymbals of a band

Then in come the greys and hues of blue

That clash and sound the woodland brass stand

 

What can a man find here to satisfy his soul?

Whose natural constituents entertain so droll?

When none of it is of real use

Decaying rotting roots

No good for man or mole

Yet just to stand there

As the shadows play between leaves

And the sun light cuts up in colours

As if the earth from heaven was stole

And catch the sound of a blackbird

Or the hoot of an owl

That is the best of this world

And it gives a place to man’s soul

In it at peace somehow

To catch a mouse or Mouse trap

 When I see yer running sound

To the forests of the ground

Then I pity man or mole

Who happen treadeth on your black hole

That badger trap

That black pit pole

Which reaches back for rat or vole

And closes snap on nose or tail

Oh what a shame to be slow as a snail

Oh fail once they call you mouse

Fail twice its as bad as louse

But snap that trap

As fast as a cat

The tail which tails the vole or rat

Will bite at that

 

And never redeem, though he may bite through

But be he mouse or be he shrew

You get his house

He won’t love you

He’ll douse and dance

And pounce and prance

As if the wood were burning down

And chance a slip, a skip away from palm

He’ll dash away from harm

Squirrel Lawn

 I saw the violence of a squirrel

When he fights for his last meal

But be He large or be He small

He’ll be cracking nut and all

The churlish oak that is his home

Reaches its twisted bark

As gloaming turns to dark

To Everest tree top crown

When the bat gangs come to town

 

The squirrel courting the dirty dozen

Happens to mention he is their cousin

They fling him long and taper and type

To the end of an oaken limb pipe

And there all fluting in their jail bird lungs

Commence to throw him and there he is flung

To see if this relative kind will revert to type

And swoop and swipe

But he slings and slouches and gripes

Into the leaves which wetly wipe

And leave him not the sugar glider

More the salt and pepper provider

 

And so he settles back to his nestles

And cracks more nuts above dreaming nettles

Then the bats fly off to greet the dawn

And all is quiet on squirrel lawn

Down on the Pond

 Down on the Pond

See the Swans in their silver robes

Minnow with willow wings in a bow

Leaves like tears

Every kind of seed

Many things I cannot believe

A man on the water without any bonds

Down on the Pond

 

I see summer come on a breeze

Winter leaves on a sneeze

A bittern booms across the trees

Hills stand on their knees

Like baby mountains waiting to feed

Down on the Pond

 

All is filled with song and seed

All is hope and life and creed

No one's chained and all are freed

Down on the Pond

 

Otters lift their heads and sink

Salmon jump as fish in pink

Waders walk on toppling stilt

As willows wander sway and wilt

And timeless teaming Gold Finch wink

Like a cloud of eyes that turn and blink

Down on the Pond

 

The islands are alive

Old tin huts corrode survive

Like supplicated saints baptised

Down on the Pond

They live their lives

 

Down on the Pond

Many things I can see

It is the 'I' of creation, reflection

In depiction of reeds

And all living things

Are catered for

Down on the Pond

 

Rain drops are jumping

Nettles bow to winds that are bumping

Livid sparrows and barrow's hawk

Who come here to do their work

And tenuous strands to human hands

Stand like bridges built

And Hide shutters rot and warp

Down on the Pond

on the Pond

down On the pond

Withy wind

 Withy wind,

Slowly, 

withy wind 

softly

 tightening your grip

all the time

Got to break your

hand

before the death bind

While there's still time

Withy wind

Withy wind

I've been standing still

And haven't seen you

Grow up my legs, my wall

To my windowsill

It's getting like I can hardly see at all

Withy wind

I'm almost blind

Got to get you out of my mind

Break out the jungle of your vine

I cut you down, but you grow back up

I hope I've moved off your plot

 in time

Because either you kill me

Or we both unwind

Oh withy wind

Withy

wind

Looking upon a lake

 The spiders are weaving their webs

in the hide shutter window opened wide

Where the wind flows and ebbs

Like the haunted house of the jilted bride

The shield bug crawls on the side board

It thinks about hopping off overboard

Then crawls to my elbow, all is a rainbow

As varnish reflects the sun's glow

And the lake is a shield of glass

Reflecting the clouds as they pass

The greys and the blues of all different hues

These are the colours of time's mass

The shield bug has reached my wrist

he's climbed up my sleeve like a cliff

Will he reach my shoulder by the time I'm older

I really don't mind I'd give him a lift

The morning spiders are fishermen

Casting their nets in the wind

The flies are their fishes then

They'll catch them if visitors don't come in

I've come to see the fine lily

They're lying down in the valley

Like a Monet painting, but with no one curating

Unless the creator of all things

If my life is a carpet of lilies that I tread upon

It really is quite silly, to walk upon a duck pond

Now it could be a Marsh Harrier has come

She circles above everyone

The glassy lake reflects her flight

And I hope one day that I might 

Feel so graceful and strong

Crossing bridges

 The railway embankment rises

From behind the gardens of the estate

A long corridor of brambles and green leaves

The pale, pastel barks of the Ash saplings

That still sprout and grow vigorously

Goldfinch carousel about the branches

Each limb is like a path to another town

Another bud is ready to burst into life

But now waits in earnest expectation

Of the spring

Biding its time

On the Strawberry line

I am conflicted, in two minds

Because on the one hand we are bringing

access to the countryside, linking up

the hubs and nodes like a network

Of underground roots

And on the other these natural corridors

will inevitably be somewhat diminished

By the human wish to spread its own branches

To feed its own systems of growth

And repair its own faulty pathways - the roads

Industrial, smoke breathing cars

That flash and wizz past the parapet of the 

Once-bridge below

They will resurrect this bridge back from the grave,

And like an old giant remembering

Something of the spirit of the railways

Will come alive again

As people will walk their dogs along it

Will cycle their bring-a-bring bikes

and maybe the hedgehogs and squirrels

And scurrying things, will likewise

Cross the bridge and discover new worlds

beyond the boundary of the road 

Elsewhere

 Well the buildings they breathed, photosynthesized

In the forest of the city

Sky scrapers sprouted limbs

And stretched out to greet the new dawn

Bridges hummed in the wind

Giant bumble bees flapping their

Rotar blade wings

Danced between

These new plantations

Seeking out the giant flowers that the covered football stadiums

And Opera houses

Planes stood upright and preened themselves

Qantas

Pan Am, British Airways

Ducked and dived in the Hudson river

Where oversized water boatmen police boats rowed themselves

Up and down leisurely

Other plane-birds rolled around in the enormous dust baths of quarries

Cars became inflated beetles that opened out

mechanical wings and zipped here and there

And altogether elsewhere

The forests and the oceans breathed a sigh of relief

Because they could finally relax about

Keeping the whole planet going on themselves.

Don't pull the wool over your own eyes, it's all unnatural

 Who are those cows in the shed,

 Little calves lying on the ground, 

tags in their ears

Mothers looking down

Begging

Shouldn't they be in a field?

Shouldn't they not be carolled

But we all like to drink our tea

With milk

Therefore here's a dairy herd

Who are those sheep in the field?

Can you imagine them long ago

Roaming around by themselves

No particular place to go

Ewes separated from their babies

Sadly bleating on

But we all like a lamb chop

Or a leg of mutton

Even more we are keen on a woolen jumper

To keep warm in

You can't say that these are natural

Man's dominion of nature

But we do what we can and we must to survive

Except now that threatens the planet

Nature line

 In the brambles underfoot

The brash that's slashed with bill hook

As volunteers go rolling by

Swinging slashers and hedge trimmers high

Hear the sound of What exactly?

Slow worms crawling through the debris?

If this is nature unbound I ask thee

What next will they find to tell ee?

I saw a Robin, that I did

Hanging around the neighbourhood

He was interested in the action

The hewn stalks of bramble were his passion

He flew amongst the swinging workers

Willing to do what nature shirkers

Would not do, but oh we few

We merry few the strawberry line crew

Still you mention where is nature?

Well, it's thorns and rotten tapers

Of fallen trees long since died

Heads in the earth, fungi multiplied

Purple patches, even velvet ears

Grow on dead logs rotting near

And they crumble underfoot

Nature found it hard to look

But after humans abandoned it

Soon started bramble that didn't quit

And now we come to reclaim the land

Nature gives us a helping hand

And palms us back this great high five

Saying come and take me I'm still alive

It is something that doesn't want to die

It will strive, and suffer and survive

And every change or drop in pressure

It will respond more robust and better

Ultimately it holds all the cards

To life's big mysteries we find so hard

Jupiter underground

 Caves barred off

In the past from Neanderthals

Humans had to earn enough

From their payrolls

In order to afford the leisure time

Once again

To live like troglodytes in holes

Though I think our ancient ancestors would

grin

Their ancient wizened hairy grins

If they knew we had gone out

And back again to our beginnings

And you see we left the trees too

To go down into our houses

And visit animals in the zoo

Or pay exorbitant amounts

To have oak wooden panels

To make our floorboards and walls

And rocks that look like frozen jupiters

Giants stuck there underground

Titans of the rock face

Garden

Stare at Prometheus unbound

What has nature done to Kinship

What scars have her talons torn?

Sacred marks on flesh adorned

Like a crown of holy thorns

Sits the Kingship of man

While nature with her beaks surround

And peck his liver out each morning

Fresh another Eagle screeching

Flesh his breakfast on man will dine

Yet for stealing secret knowledge of fire

He has to this rock been chained

By Jupiter Titan king who reigned

Down his unjust treatment meted

Upon poor Prometheus

Until a Hero did free him

Hercules with Apollo's bow and arrow

Sheared the chain which kept him stowed

And tied to a rocky eerie

How the men and women did query

Who is he and what labours has he lost

or gained?

As it was while he was chained

But breaking free

Hercules and he

Went on down the road

Persephone

 She walked in fields picking flowers

She was picked by heavenly powers

And by the plains down in hell below

Where flowers wilt and will not grow

But love there was too strong to show

That of Hades for Persephone

That he stole her and her beauty

Down to chasms and caverns he took her

Her mother walking up above

Called where is the heart string of my love

Where is my one and only daughter

I left her only a while by the water

Demeter the Goddess of the harvest

Became so fraught and restless

She sought answers from Zeus, her brother

But he told her not to bother

"She will return, she is young and free

Free to wander and love, be who she will be

But Demeter was not to be calmed

By such words when she feared her harmed

"Find her now or I shall strike the world a mighty blow!

Put down my plough, neither shall I gather nor sow"

So under pressure Zeus searched high and low

And found her locked in Hades below

But Hades would not fully relinquish his prize

Not one so beautiful, it would be too great a sacrifice

So, though he knew he was commanded by his brother

He gave food to Persephone so as to trick her mother

She was starving in the underground prison

And so she ate the food of poison

She ate six pomegranate seeds 

And for each seed came a punishment for her greed

For each seed represented a month not free on Earth

In the arms of her mother from whose flower she was given birth

Instead she had to return to hell below

And live with Hades her captor in tow

For these dark months her mother would not work

Demeter went into mourning, crops died the harvesters shirked

Nothing went on growing above ground on Earth

While Hades imprisoned her daughter denying her worth

When finally the months of waiting were over

And Winter had followed Autumn, Persephone broke cover

And unbound she walked again through spring meadows

Her Mother overjoyed began to emerge from the shadows

But each year ever since, Demeter ceases to reap or sow

As her daughter in the ball and chain goes down to hell below

The darkness must answer light, the freedom by degrees

Is qualified by the quality and value we put on being free

flower power

 All your enemies are wooden

You said it as you walked out of the swamp

And all your needles are lost in 

Those hay stacks of your stomp

There are queen bees a buzzing

There are wild roses too

And the marsh marigold

And celandines

Know just what you're up to

Oh Butter wouldn't melt in your mouth

You say

And all the birds are flying south

You say

And if I take you by the tongue

Then your kisses are as good as done

So for the sake of Canada

Let your wild geese roam

And for the sake of united grief

Paint all your steel horses chrome

For I see your white teeth

And I know your false belief

In the idols of the tomb

But if you will bring your knife

I'll slice your butter life

And show you the sweet honeycomb

So show me the way to walk home

I'm lost and I need your advice

I've been tripping over wires

Talking with country squires

But none of them will leave me alone

So show me the way to go home

I'm tired

Red Burn

 Down from the dark, titanic mounds

Runs the Titans blood

Sometimes white as milk

Sometimes dark brown

Dirty blood from its deep arteries

Over salmon flesh, over cod yellow

Over the red Wrasse fish body

That heaves in the Glen

Whose gills breathe rain water

Whose lungs are damp caves

Whose Leviathan mass lies

In these watery graves

 

Whose back is a whale- une Roche Baleine

The whale bone ribs have been bent into waves

Whose oil and blubber are buried deep underground

And ambergris in its gut are the minerals yet unfound

They’ve been hunted by Geologists with their hammers like harpoons

Ready for the conquering like men who want rock from the moon

River

 The river babbles, shelves in clam-like semi-circles

These C letters it is spelling out

Constantly, clattering, changeling

Calling in chains

That run like white sausage strings

Over stone rails

Bulbous and fat as onions rolling

Down a cobbled hill

Chattering and chasing each other as children do

Racking and racing as horses out the stalls

All from the starting line over the head of Steall Falls