To a tree in Regents Park

Standing quietly still
Like this tree in the park
My face to the sun
My back like green bark

A tree that is blessed
With a new hearts awakening
With flowers and fruit
From another’s years ring

So much older than me
Yet the tree keeps growing
While in my years
I am painfully slowing

Let us write to future generations

Let us write to future generations
About the loss of nature

When a scarcity of creature
Is like an echo from a building site

When they are all lined up in the firing line
And you see their eyes shining in the dark

When an arm of fire sweeps over them
Or the polluted air fells them like dolls in a sideshow

When you go down to the riverside
To see a river of gloom passing by

When the forests stand empty and meaningless
And every day a murder extinction is on the news

And great empires crawl reluctantly to conventions on climate change
While people go about their daily business

Seeing how slow death sheds the hearts of birds
How slow death sheds the teeth and claws of cats

How even the horns of the rhino
Are reduced to face powder

Looking back at this – what will you think?
That it was close but that you made amends

Or that nature has become a thing of the past

And who is God and where is He?
And where is this promised kingdom of his?


After the winter’s plague
Has visited every home;
Where the long night
Has seemed like a grave.

From the ice and dirt and stone
Of people’s failure
A snowdrop appears.

He didn’t think twice about it;
He was hardly able to acknowledge it;
Then he was illuminated.

The whole earth
Had seemed dead
For a long time –

Then the snowdrop appeared.

Nature always bounces back

Nature’s bubbles in a stream
You pop one, it becomes a pack
This be real, it’s not a dream
Nature always bounces back

You gash the earth with railway wroth
On green belt land, you place your stack
I’ve seen myself, the green regrowth
Nature always bounces back

The forest grown to many a mile
Are flattened by the tractor track
A million seeds will target oil
Nature always bounces back

Mankind crawls across the turf
With little machines, they make a scratch
On the green giant of the earth
But nature always bounces back

Now listen to the battle cries
As man begins his final crack
At ocean tide and mountain fire
As nature always bounces back

You chuck the earth into a bin
You lay a road you hope will last
But like the blemish on your kin
Nature heals and bounces back

Then in parliament they motion
Save the planet, then have a snack
But save yourself, there is no lotion
For nature always bounces back

Poem for heaven

Out of the grass came trees
Out of the trees came birds
Out of the birds came a heaven
Out of heaven came the word

The grass grew tall before the days of wheat
The trees grew tall before the flying bird
Heaven grew wide before the word
And words spread abroad and were heard

Who made the grass grow tall?
Who made the trees with His Call?
Who made the birds for the world?
Who made heaven with His Word?

The freedom of our kind

Isn’t life today
All slavery

What kind of
What kind of slavery?

The slavery of worms
That slave on the soil
Blindly toiling away
Making the soil nice
For the roots

What is their reward?
What do they get in return?

They eat dirt
And are satisfied
But they are freer
Than human beings
That climb a mountain of rules
That run around a circuit of rules
Rules like
Sign here
Sign there
Fill in this
Fill in that
Is there such a thing
As bureaucracy for worms
No, they
Go this way
They go that way
They sleep when they want
They eat when they want
There’s no division of time for them
They work because they want to
They work because they enjoy it

There’s no interfaces
Like banks
Or governments
To get them following
A routine
That would give
Only rudimentary value
To the freedom of their kind

The freedom
Of our kind
I wonder if humanity
Will ever have
The freedom of our kind
Where we would fit in
With God’s creation
With the earth
Like the simple worm

Where is
The freedom of our kind

I’m sure it’s out there
To be discovered

Or maybe
It’s within us
Maybe it’s in the voice
Of our souls

The old cat is sleeping

The old cat is sleeping on the garden chest
The suns not so bad for autumn
The honeysuckle has climbed onto the dog rose branch
The cat sleeps with one eye open

The maple leaves shake in a slight breeze
A tiny fly drifts by the window
The flowerpots are stacked high
The sunflower heads are sleepy


Delicate, beaming mysterious signals
Thumbing it’s nose up at the world

Bluebells, imitate sleeping
Guardians in the forest, colour ringing light
Insects reach out and pull the ropes
Deafened by the chimes, scamper away.

Bluebells, hiding under bushes
Imitating the slumber of creatures
Leaves, a corolla of shredded paper
Peaceful, undisturbed, lazy
Revelling in their hide and seek experience.

Bluebells, playing jokes, insisting
That they are not bluebells
Easily deluded, you begin to wonder
“What are Bluebells?” as you walk away
Then there’s merriment, there’s giggling
Like the sound of falling rain

Beneath the meadow

Beneath the meadow
Was a jewel
Locked in rock
It caused a fool
To turn the meadow
Upside down
Until the jewel
He had found
Then he went
And from his face
Locked his jewellery
Into a safe
And the meadow?
It saw no more
The summer sun
The flowered floor
But it remained
Like a breast torn
Its’ heart gone
Its’ flowers unborn