why do the gods hate us so?

they rain fire down on us from the mountain
send giant waves to flood our shores

the earth shakes and the crops fail
and every year we have to move our home

why do the gods hate us so?

blood and milk

your body spurted blood and milk
I understood none of that
to me you were my mother earth
to others just a vassal
I wept when they raped you
your lush folds defiled and burnt
I swam in your salty tears
leant my head against your soft breasts
when once long ago you held my hand
as we wandered through your lands
you taught me all the songs I needed
that welled from springs and hopes
but now I walk these paths alone
there is no love left to share
only bitter pills to swallow
and the memory of your flesh

C’mon Nature!

Stop crossing busy roads and getting squashed you numbskulls.
Stop migrating over lands where you’ll get shot, netted, eaten or stuffed.
Stop mixing with cattle and risk being culled for allegedly spreading TB.
Stop smiling and acting like you want to entertain us in tiny cramped pools.
Stop going near Japan, Iceland, Norway, Eskimos and harpoons ffs.
Stop growing your ivory tusks and you’ll avoid being poached.
Stop growing your pointy horns and you’ll also avoid being poached.
Stop swimming in large shoals which are easily detected by trawler men.
Stop being so lazy and get shagging to save your species. D’oh!
Stop eating plastic and sticking straws up your noses you idiots.
Stop burning bright in the forests of the night and get yourselves more camouflaged.
Stop lagging behind in the evolution stakes and get like your cousins instead.
Woolly Mammoths!
Stop dozing in the Siberian tundra and get your DNA checked out.
Stop being dead as a dodo and start making an unexpected comeback.
Stop standing still and start acting like the Ents in Lord of the Rings.
C’mon! Fight back!

Genesis Reversal

On Monday
a last lonely animal was killed
and the last greedy man took his fill
one last supper and one last thrill

On Tuesday
fish and birds disappeared
nowhere safe for them to dwell
time indeed to bid a fond farewell

On Wednesday
sun and stars all quickly dimmed
the waning moon turned to hide
showed only its colder darker side

On Thursday
land and plants began to whither
browns replaced the healthy greens
dusty winds blew hither and thither

On Friday
sky and sea could not be seen
the tides retreated indefinitely
tamed for all eternity

On Saturday
night and day became the same
the last remaining rainbows frayed
and faded to the greyest greys

On Sunday
our silent planet took a rest
reflected on what might have been
if humans hadn’t made such an awful mess

of running such a perfect place . . .



I know where you have come from
but not what you contain
I know where you are flowing
with your toxic brew to drain

I wash in you and worship you
as millions often do
I watch as you float past me
to flush our waste into the sea

I know we hold the answers
to cure your deadly pain
I know I’m but a poor man
a large family to maintain

I hope that help comes quick
before our children all fall sick
I wish for purer waters
to cleanse us mortal sinners

I know where you have come from
I know where you will go
I pray you’ll send a sign one day
to help us change our ways


photo credit Vikram Sharma / Daily Mail Online

The Strimmer

He liked to start bottom left
in the graveyard where

Underneath Lies Interred
The Body of Bridget the widdow of the late
Richard Howell of ffynnon velen
Who died on the 14th March 1763
In the 76th year of her age.

His high speed plastic wires
Scythed through the buttercups and daisies
Sent ladybird legs flying and bees knees
Dislocating with decapitated heads.

THIS Plain stone is here erected
in memory of Phebe Phillips
the affectionate and beloved wife of James Phillips
of Blaentrafle of this parish
She died Aug 22, 1820. Aged 48 years.

In his haste to lay the wildness to waste
He never noticed the mouse tail detach
Or the painted lady lose her wings
Or even the woodlouse lose its house

Forgotten for a twelve month year.

There were two caved in tombs
Where creatures fled and hid
To hold paws over ears as the grim din approached
The shadow of the man darkening the sky
As he moved on up the bank.

FEB 18, 1949, AGED 43 YEARS

He paused to wipe the summer sweat
With a handkerchief from his brow
The two stroke engine idled waiting
Whilst a robin fed on bits and bobs of shredded snacks.

Also Henry, son of the above
Aged 2 months

With a self-satisfied smile he had to admit
That it was beginning to look a whole lot neater
This patch of land that the living neglected
And parishioners remembered to forget.

“Affliction sore long time I bore
Physicians were in vain
Till God was ples’d my life to ease
And freed me from my pain”

With the dried grasses now levelled
And the gravestones splattered
The sun hung over his head.

But there under foot
Barely six feet down
The dead muttered complaints
Of deathly disapproval.


I was reminded of this poem – written in April 2017 – after reading ‘Slabs’
by my poetry friend DJB:


I have watched
as you trampled growing seeds
and poured scorn on these summer days
I have watched
as your shadow grew and cast a darkness
like a deepening sorrow over beauty
I have watched
as you laughed in the face of happiness
with a heinous grin of self-satisfaction
I have watched
as you tried to destroy all that you created
or claimed to have loved in the name of what?
I have watched
as many have cried and I am not sure why
such bitterness fills your heart
I have watched
as my wrists have bled the last vestiges
of hope and forgiveness
I have watched
but I can watch no more as the sun sets
on this last earthly hour

Wasted Words

when you delete your poetry
it ends up breaking down into micropoetry
which in turn breaks down into waste words & letters
that pollute the literary environment

so remember please
every word is sacred
even in haiku

and broken words can be fixed
like people having breakdowns


victims of fashion

the fashion trend of skinny jeans
makes no sense for overweight teens

except perhaps to mock and remind
what fun our youth have left behind

and now their futures can be seen
through portals of smartphone screens

a flock of sheep following fake dreams
everything today is what it seems

the party’s over, the songs all sung
a bitter taste to coat the tongue

with debt, pollution, global warming
is it time for them to dress in mourning?


inspired by ‘Generation Gap, Next…’ by Jane Bozian