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

Dragon Fly

 Little beastie

Fearsome in is proud mantel

Scales of multi-colours

Wings of thinnest hair netting

Squashed so its guts spilled out

Trodden under foot of exploring geologists

In their rush did they find the rock was still there?

Did they try to squeeze Life out too from that?

Like blood from a stone

I don’t care

Skin and bone and hair that is where life is

We are like hurricane hunters chasing after

Something that is already dead

This is red, that is not

Time is not dead though

Time ages and we can only remind ourselves of by how much

Of by how unimportant our lives are by looking at Rock

Hard, never blinking, always staring no matter what

Rain gets in its eye, 

Like Heroes of the old world

They survive or don’t quite out last everything

Slowly decaying eroding

 

She held this fledgling in her hand

Like it was more precious than all

The Rocks of time and the world

As a giant holds a seed

Or a mother her child

That they know will grow into a flower

Then upon a rock she placed it

Ticking, for the seconds of its life

And let the fairy nymphs of the river

Have its body

Path building or making ends meet

Here we are all sat down

Amongst the turf that’s turning brown

By the stream which fecund flows

Over rocks in rows and rows

Here we stand beside each other

Sister to sister and brother to brother

Beside the mountain

Beneath the cloud

The echoing falls which talk so loud

A new line

 Monads, epistles, fevers, colds

Cool drooling mouths

Faces of fools opening, closing

Laughing and falling

Like all of human nature

Into the gene pools

The River out of Eden

The long charade

The pictures and shadow play

The aching archipelagos

Abandoned island rock

Out on a precipice

On its own a ticking clock

Ham Wall reserve walk with Ed

 All the teeming little monsters down on the lake

Eating themselves

there's no mistake

Dragon flies gobble midgies

And Mosquitoes suck my blood

The only one who doesn't know

is Noah with his flood

Bring the animals two by two

the amster the gerbil

Even the cock roach too?

Oh Mrs Noah in her hide

Could not have conceived the turn about

Nor the laundry bill for accommodating all those lost souls,

But down on the lake

It all goes round

Like a washing machine

Clothes in a tumble drier

This year to next the seasons change

The reds mix with the whites

And it all gets stained green

From a favourite pair of socks

Song of the Rocks

 Sat on a boulder

With a sac on my shoulder

Watching the river flow

The air grew colder

And I felt  much older

Remembering my time must go

Let go the past

Like a jet it is fast

And flies by just

So and so

I take out my glass

And look at the lass

Who told me my love

Must be slow

Oh come to the hills

Where the Buzzard shrills

And the birch bark peels its skin

And though time marches on

The last words of its song

Have yet to be fully writ in

With a song on my sleeve

And a one to believe

My heart is free as the crows

Who do all hurry on

In their black and white song

Just as the river that flows

April amble

 The bee did wend its buzzing way

Bumbling hither and tither and gay

In the spring's new light of day

Searching out its food

The willow catkins dangled down

A clutch of lanterns green, yellow and brown

The bees fandangled in their crown

And danced a gleeful jig

The season showed its streams of green

Its colours bright upon the scene

Though wind blew cool then warm and keen

The Merry sun did brighten

And winter shed its skein of cold

The spring snake slid out green and bold

The foreman shouts take hold, take hold

As the curtain falls to dampen

And in the sky the stars appear

Bright and bold, wild and clear

The fire flies dance in good cheer

Of silk they've spun to lighten

And quests take hold

And nests appear

the young are bold

and the rest are near

As I walked out

upon an April amble

Mosquito Cloud

 Mosquito, mosquito cloud

After the rain hovering

Feathers mobile

Little ant wings

After the rain

Angels sing

Mosquito, down on the swamp

Up on the hill listen to the thump

Beating down rain drops jump

Splash up from the ground

Like a spring

Mosquito, mosquito cloud

mobile on invisible string

Jog up and down

By the invisible hand

The same one that claps aloud

What's that sound that I hear now

Just the sound of one hand clapping

Mosquito cloud before the thunderstorm

Waking aloud to the moist and warm

Crackling like the voice of thunder

Mosquito flys in radar under

Bombs me now from the breaking skies

Heaven has broken, its banks open wide

Down rushes rivers of rain

Mosquitoes know in their hive brain

What in the world?

 The berries are bobbing on the rowan tree

The corn is cobbing, in the sweet acre breeze

And I am jobbing like a busy bee

But the parishioners all hold their tissues and sneeze

Oh what, what are we coming to?

What in the world is it coming to?

The flames are fanned, and the Earth's down the pan

And another horse passes on a Japanese fan

There's a statue that's a fallin'

A Greek vase is appallin'

Hiding from Apollo's gaze

Who wanders through the fallow glades

Thinking of him and looking for you

Oh what in the world are we coming to?

And the jumbo in the air is stallin'

In the sirens with long hair are callin'

Take me once, they say, take my cue

What in the world are we coming to?

I hold my breath and count to ten

But I'm afraid to open my mouth again

And if I see pigsties or sheep pens

I close my eyes and count my hens

The farm yard is all accounted true

Yet what in the world is it coming to?

And we all look lost in a maze

The shallow sharks, swim in the misty haze

And jellyfish sting, on the holidays

We all forgot were once sacred

It makes you think it's the end of days

With famine and pestilence and malaise

And summer time screams its short serenades

As the musicians all pack up their parades

What in the world are we coming to?

What in the world is it coming to?

When you hold out your hands

Then bring them together in praise

Some people leave you, and it's the pain that stays

On the river Axe

Along to Marchy farm
Ignore the public footpath and
Follow the lower Axe to the left or West
You face down cows
Who frolick
And get excited
When they see you
You hear the farmers talking from behind the
Shed wall
Keep walking
It is trespassing
But only a minor offense afterall

Next slink down a little out of sight
The lower Axe meets the Axe proper
After crossing a maintenance bridge
Enter the next field and head north
Until you join the proper foot path then you are set

On the river axe
The crows are jacks
Scattered in the fields
Like pepper corns

On the river axe,
Nothing attacks,
Nothing lacks
And Everything is born

Westbury straight rhyne
Into it inclines
And the rustle of reeds
Where Veronica bleeds

Sheep under the solar panels
Sheltering from the sun
Laying down like lambs
To the slaughter
Technology's daughter and son

Thin, starved cows of Yeo farm
Resting under the Poplars
Who looks after the cattle?
I became depressed at the thought
And too much steel
The day wore on
I began to feel weary, and so turned back
As this was leading me further
From home
With a long circle to return by

Unoccupied water rat holes
In the bank
Like the caves
Of prehistoric man
Who might have washed
Their flint axes in this river
Hunting Mammoth near Cheddar Gorge

Old wooden bridge tumble down
See to your left Chalcroft hill crown
Then along Taylor paddock drove
Where I came unstuck
In the multitude of thistles
and rape seed and buck

I turned back and retraced my steps
Back to the river Axe instead
And headed East again
The going is easier
But watch out for the stingers
Hidden in the long grass

You reach another old bridge and the road
Head towards the farm of Knowle
Then pass it and cross onto the hill

Shire horse upon the hill
Flies buzz around muddy puddles
And cows stand on the prow
Baking in the sun
I chased one to pull some bailer twine
Out of its mouth - no thanks there

From there you run on down a wooded glen
Shaded and cool
With ferns and high banks
An old tractor wheel full of water
And the dry mud path scattered with dry twigs
And sticks

Then the tunnel opens out into sunlight
And the dirt race track is on your left
Follow another track until you hit the road
Take a right
Then dog leg-second stile on the left

Cut through a wild flower meadow
Farmers lifting high the bales
Hauling up upon the trailer
rolling on green pasture sailors
On their hay ships
like barges pulling through
drawn by grassy charges

Down moor drove to Bleadney
The smell of Chamomile
and borage
Bind weed flower white in the hedges
Bramble tight in the sedges

Bulrush tower like Massai sages
Swaying power of windrush ages

Twisted oak whose limbs are dancing
Old buzzard swoops above barren yellow
Entrancing, the limits of childhood ages
Time has moved on turning its pages

See the bridge at Webb's Rhyne
Tyres on the rhyne bed recline
Where little minnow take turns to dine
As part of the aquatic furniture

River snail hang suspended there
Like bats above a darkened lair
Foot prints stick to the sky
Walking on glass ceilings

Grasshoppers leap and jump in clover
They are the ones who think its all over
But then they land and can't understand
What all the fuss was over

With each step the field comes alive
With crickets singing
Bees buzz in the skies
Hopping from warm blades
Where they sun bathe
Their joints warmed up
In the summer haze

Shooting, teeming, darting
In the bow wave of my shoe
And scatter in my wake

Dandilion clocks tick on
Their seeds are sewn
The dock's rustic red
Waves  at Babylon

Buttercups turn their heads to the sun
While butterflies like petals
Dance and flutter on

And low down the bed of pink-white bind
Brings to mind, nature is kind
As the promise of sweetness
From underneath
The light hearts rising
From the mud beneath

Down by Marchy farm
The sheep quietly eat
From fields replete with fodder
From the hearth and home
Always living shoulder to shoulder
Though each will die alone

A little pheasant or grouse
Slinks behind the house
And youngsters are chatting down by the stream
The Lower River Axe again

Dry baked in ground
Cow pats,
The crows fly up like bats
They are chatting in parliament
And the voices of civilization surround
The signs of government
Return me to my senses

Pigeons coo, awakening
All is replete with fields of wheat and rye
An adder slithers inside 
The stone crevice of an ancient bridge
After it senses my footfall
Or the scent of rain
As from one ash tree to another
The crows flock back again

Times Of Tumult -Scotand

Steall Falls – July 2015

The livid falls clash

Eking out, bleeding over brims of rocks

Hard bone shoulders

Spraying fountains, broadcast seed

Blooming flowers in white showers screed

Up around a stubborn crag

It almost stops and then turns back

But finds another stairs to descend

A secret passage a making mends

It knits its woven braids of hair

A white mane folding

As from a polar bear

Ferocious, simple, stark and blind

It bungles over time after time

It is a great divider, boundary line

That cold hand of nature

Has clasped its minds

Where water bears its inky soul

Into the well where the white words fall

And are written out

Stretched in lines over

River beds and rocky climbs

They give its voice as children’s laughter

Approaching clatter

Of pounding hooves

White noise chatter incessant