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Breath

All round the world people are holding their breath
Is it just an anomaly or are we in at the death?
Our planet is hurting that we all can see
Is this blip natural or caused by you and me?
We have to trust scientists to tell us the truth
You are our hope and you are our sleuth
Do not ignore the cynics they’ll keep you on track
Retest their theories, and find out what they lack
Is it a sun spot that may cause the crash
Or too much abuse, and things that we trash
So tell us home truths, even things that we fear
Especially those things we do not want to hear
So all of the plastic we do not need to use
All of our assets we need not abuse
Will help just a little, we hope and we pray
Seek a safe path, make some headway
Let the whole world return to a safer course
Let saving people be a founding force
Be sure to travel just the trail that is true
Lies come back to bite, like an old lover’s tattoo
Let’s hope with every hope we’re not in at the death
And slowly, slowly ..... release the world’s breath

Hugh

(photo credit: Elena Mozhvilo via Unsplash)

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King of the Woods

Soft green moss and arching brambles With desperate nettles shooting upright to light. Dense, strong and stable, yet soft delicate and gentle A squirrel runway extending arms, reaching limbs Of sun-drenched lime, mottled light barely touching. Fresh, yet decaying hands of friendship, A ladybird highway knitted together. Beneath a silhouette of darkness, A planet in itself.   by Jess and Stephanie A video showing how this poem was written can be found on the Resources page .
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Let Me Play

Children at play filled with innocence, Trees in the playground where they hide. Running, shouting no cares in the world, Waves of freedom flows higher than the tide. In that playground stands a child all alone, Fraught with sadness, with nobody to play. His dejection surges as his tears threaten, Just wishing a shrill of a whistle would end the day. Being so alone is a solitary game, Thoughts of “what have I done” The shrills and screams of play, Ending a game for those that won. Standing all alone playtime is long, Children running all unaware, He stands still alone, Envy and sadness, he stands just to stare. Sheridan
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Splash

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After a Week Off

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Leper Chapel - Mosaics of Time

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Cardamine Pratensis

after Laurie Lee, ‘Milkmaid’ ‘Tender cress and cuckoo-flower: And curly-haired, fair-headed maids, Sweet was the sound of their singing’* A pretty name, the ‘cuckoo flower’, just one of many guises: ‘Our Lady’s smock’, or ‘fairy flowers’ that come in varied sizes. The flower, they said, could bring bad luck so rarely picked for remedies; but sometimes risked to use like cress to pepper up the lunchtime cheese. The ‘May flower’ tells us when it blooms while ‘coco plants’ confuse the mind, the rustic ‘milkmaid’ seems to show an image that is less refined. The name suggests a dainty wench, just like the flower, a pleasant sight, who tends the herd in shaded barn in frilly smock, all dazzling white. They say the blooming coincides with cuckoo’s call; they may be right but milkmaids conjure up the mood of summer’s idyll at its height. Lee’s marigolds and buttercups and ‘brimming harvest of their day’ reveal to us a bygone time, remind us of those country ways. Julia Duke *From a 15th or 16...
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A Way of Life

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Forever Searching

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Blue Sky

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In the Skip of the Moon

In the skip of the moon I felt my life lighten, Held between worlds, Drifting slowly to the shore. Fathomed to the flow, Secure in the depths Of the hidden undertow Revealing it’s current. Dragged along, The awakening of freshwater To the spit of Orford, I swam ashore. April
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