The Great Big Green Week – Day Nine – Final Day
I Spoke to Our Mother
I went through the wood to the top of the hill
I sat and I waited until everything was still
I opened my heart to the mother of all
I gave her my words and she heard my call
Her message was sent in dreams in the night
Moon-lit… a medicine man… covered in light
We sat down on the ground in a circle of trees
He said “Listen. Hear our voice… please…
You mine and you dig you leach my substance away
You strip and you burn my protection each day
You cut and wound me, expose all that’s within
Tread soft on my mantle, take care of my skin
You are not just living in Nature…
…you are Living Nature
The blood in your veins is iron from my heart
The flesh and your bones are me, every part
We are all made from the substance of stars
Take care where you step, you walk on your scars
You are the dawn, the morn and the midday sun
You are the fading of the light when the day is done
You are the rain, the storm and the streams that run
You are the cry in the night and song at dawning light
You are the whisper in the trees and the summer breeze
You are the waves, the shore, you are so much more
You are the mountains and the earth beneath your feet
You are the cycle of life and you are complete
You are not just a passenger we all have a role
Listen to your voice, your heart and your soul”
With that we stood up all dressed in green skin
The question on my lips “Where do we begin?”
I Spoke to Our Mother – Poetry for The Earth Responding to Liv Torc’s Siren Poets project and six amazing Challengers, 60 workshop participants went out into nature to have a conversation with the Earth. They then met at one of five online poetry workshops and shared their experiences. Many went and filmed their poetic responses outside somewhere they love. This is my response. I live on the lower slopes of Allington Hill in Bridport. For the first time in 14 years I climbed a hill and ‘I Spoke to Our Mother’. Her response came to me in dreams in the night. Sceptics may doubt… but when did you last listen to the Earth? Thank you to Earth Mother and Facilitator Liv Torc Peter Roe http://www.livtorc.co.uk http://www.capefarewell.com/sirenpoets #SirenPoets #ClimateIsCulture #TheJawboneCollective #WessexMedia
Springtime Isn’t Always Optimistic
Green of spring,
Tree frogs have come
An empty gas tank,
Errands to run,
Sweating from the already too hot sun,
And they’re raffling off an assault rifle at the bank.
-Samantha Terrell ((Previously published in DoveTales by Writing for Peace, and my collection Vision, and Other Things We Hide From)
Weep Now for Future Losses
To weep for it; the
Unwelcome gains, the unjust losses
Brought upon us
Acts of irresponsible
And plunder for more
Have robbed the future
Of our weeping,
Our living and our breathing.
So we must work harder,
Plan for then,
Plea (A Ghazal?)
Love to Mother Earth, you cherished us, nourished us,
we repaid by stripping you, raping you, a sorry too late.
Steam, coal plumes, car emissions, meat methane
We ruined nature, we need you now, nourish us, cherish us.
Raging fires, uncontrolled floods, melting ice rivers
engulf land, on our knees, Mother Earth cherish us.
Monsoon rain, cities destroyed, floating homes
crushed to smithereens, we need you, cherish us
Glaciers melt, fires turn green to black ash
Sorry, sorry, we need you, nourish us, cherish us.
black oil slick
washed up on the beach —
in the dead dolphin’s eye
I see a part of myself
Lavana Kray https://bit.ly/3ocHes9 #tanka #poetry #micropoetry #poem #offshoreoilldrilling #climatechange #oilandgas #oceanpollution #climatecrisis
a new rock,
litters the shore —
will the words I leave behind
also survive the seas?
Janet Lynn Davis https://bit.ly/2m1hxN7 #tanka #poetry #poem #PlasticPollution #ClimateEmergency
Plastiglomerate: melted #plastic #trash mixed with beach sediment and debris.
rattling the dry leaves
on eucalypti —
an ink-dark trace
https://bit.ly/3vDq7Qm #5lines #tanka #poetry #micropoetry #poem #BushFires #Australia #ClimateChange #ClimateCrisis #ClimateAction #Koalas
https://bit.ly/38JZksr #VisualHaiku #haiku #poetry #micropoetry #poem #ForestFires #GlobalWarming #GlobalCrisis #ClimateChange
Every other day we purchase
all the green apples the monger
by the station fails to sell
as if it is written in the red,
and often he cannot sell
all his green although it seems
to be the order of the day.
Sometimes he speaks of
the family he keeps in this city
hidden from the one in his bourg
and about those secrets open
like a wound between his toes
alive inside the callouses he harvests.
We listen to him, our teeth in
the juicy hearts of the sourness,
our boredom asleep while the trouble
stirs in another hamlet.
Will he go back to his origin?
I ask. Not today. Today I pass.
Green signals the monsoon’s
through train skipping our station.
Speed blurs through the vagueness
between the two parts of here.
bring May flowers,
sings the nursery rhyme.
An outdated tune to my desert ear.
produces much doubt
my children will ever see
the desert blooming this —
is quickly becoming a fantasy.
In the mountains, snow is refusing to fall,
rain forgets to drop in the Valley of the Sun.
The Colorado slumps into a depression,
Lake Mead is quickly fading,
her shore exposing her emptiness.
Whispers are spoken to shadows,
numbers crunched in darkness.
Deals made under cover of
the greenbacks promised success.
Promises contrived that none intend to keep.
One million gallons of sacred water
is required daily to quench
the modern beast of our
data storing machines thirst, to
cool its heated humming collection routines.
The data monsters grin gleefully
with their colorful box windows
as they build their thirsty towers.
The land is cheap and easy,
politicians’ pockets are deep and greasy.
Arizona is once again dehydrated,
it haunts her every 100 years.
Yet, the belly of the beast is
never satisfied, no cure for the virus of greed.
it transmits asymptomatically; none of us are immune.
A new reality is unfolding.
People want to deny
turn their backs and say,
everything’s okay, take a dip in the pool
let’s think about this another day.
Annual dust bowls
will blow into our souls.
Our children’s destiny in question,
as Arizona is wrung out —
to wither like a plucked Saguaro flower.
let our voices be heard
let our voices be heard
from the local town hall
to the Heads of Government in Glasgow
we rebel for our future and we strike
let our dreams be heard
demanding the impossible
as the near impossible is what’s needed
we know it’s not too late if only we act
let our power be heard
and changing ballots
we fight as one for our home
there is no Planet B
What Is Ecopoetics?
A rain forest of words
That captures the toxins
Of a world on the brink
More amazing poetry can be found here: https://www.facebook.com/groups/968882923646629
Bios And Links
lives in Bridport on the Jurassic coast. He is a prize winning performance poet, artistic, autistic, computer geek and technology nerd. A former Bard of Dorchester and host of Bridport spoken word night Apothecary. Founding editor and publisher of the Jawbone Collective. A self confessed nerd and technology junkie who likes to shatter peoples misconceptions about Aspie computer geeks! In July 2021 Peter was Highly Commended for his forthcoming collection “About Time”. He has been published in ‘Siren Poets’ in 2020. Short listed In Blandford Poetry Prize 2019, Runner up in Bridport Short Story Slam 2018, Finalist in the Apples and Snakes South-West Slam 2018, long listed in ‘Writing Without Limits’ for The Yeovil Literary Prize 2017 and winner of The Western Gazette Best Local Writer 2017. He has been widely published online and in print. Has two published collections of poetry. His debut poetry collection ‘Technology Bytes Back’ (2018) comes from that place where technology meets people and the inevitable mayhem that follows. His second collection “i’m in Love with My Barista” came out in July 2019 to coincide with a series of Fringe events. and show ‘Jawbone’. His fringe event ‘North Verses South’ for 2020 was postponed…
is an Arizona native, a rare breed, who lives on a small farm raising chickens and ducks. Her love of writing goes back to elementary school when she discovered her parents’ old typewriter. She is a wife and mother of three children, one biological, and two whom she adopted from the Arizona Foster Care System.