featured in the poetry forum May 4, 2024  :: 0 comments

Winter is cold. The sky is blue. The year ends.
Certain as short square fingers stuffing pipes
the self-assurance to be ripped apart
like linoleum covers of bus seats
with cushions pneumatic with nylon sponge.
The smoky soul chooses a double decker
coconut shies memories of Coney Island
and verdigris upon a copper torch
that tests the colour of each human skin
for ermines after all are merely stoats
or weasels held in contempt for low cunning
like fellas in prunella à la Pope.

Suggestions mild with nuance made in whispers
falling feathers of snow on tenement walls
a lingering leaf upon an ivy vine
a woman sipping soup next to her sketchbook
another typing dandelions in spring
a man gaslighting his own wedded wife
a sheriff shooting gangsters in the west
kids snorkeling mid coral reefs down under
or slaves bloodying their chains in evil ports
and genocides within the heart of darkness
and conspiracy theories doing rounds
with wounded knees and blankets of small pox
efforts to shine a torch quickly deflected
for centuries to come so some can reign.

Leaves swirl in eddies deep within the glen
their colours myriad as the stars in heaven
and fish swim among roots of redwood trees
where snowy mountains rise up from the sea.
Minds look for peace and hearts hanker for comfort.
Killers are everywhere. What flowers? What moon?
Trouble. Sparks fly. Upwards.
Innately flawed. This piece of work.
Not mine. His. What destiny!

editors note:

What, indeed? We demand to speak to a manager! – mh clay


featured in the poetry forum February 8, 2024  :: 0 comments

What you never said sounded profane from other lips
The Holy Writ was wasted

What you never shared remained untouched throughout the years
A dark Poison was tasted

What you never did remained undone and lost forever
Fate was untempted

What you never wrote lay unimagined, not dreamt
Never attempted

What you never were none else could be none else could see
The world is blind

What you never sang was never sung and never played
One of a kind

What you never left was gentleness and subtle grace
And great politeness

Therefore in thoughts of you and in your memories
There is a lightness

editors note:

About some, that lightness is a long time coming. (We welcome Amita to our crazy congress of Contributing Poets with this submission. Read more of her madness on her new page – check it out.) – mh clay

Articles of A Green Faith

featured in the poetry forum September 7, 2023  :: 1 comment

I believe in the embroidery of broccoli
I believe in the shelling of beans and peas
I believe in the peeling of green apples
I believe in the slicing of courgettes and gourds
I believe in the value of greens
These are articles of faith for me
Burn me at the stake , I will still speak up
For the wholesomeness of herbs and gooseberries
Nail me to a cross but I will still testify
In favour of the thingness of things
The foodness of food
The goodness of good
I love the realness of this world too much
To hanker after heaven
Unless it is more of the same
For green to me is the godness of God
Or the Goddess.
I believe , oh yes, I deeply, fully believe !
Green is my gut, and Gruss is my Gott
Such is my Faith.Green are its articles
And forever are they blest.
For Blessed is the Greenness of Greens
That nourish the Body and Soul of Humankind
Forever and forever. Amen.
So help me God ! Let Earth be Green forever !
And let the Devil take the bombs tanks and guns
And the blindmost. For the Green Human
And the Green Goddess will not be mocked
But shall flourish forever in Green Laurels
Green Mosses and Lichen and Ferns and Bamboos
And Giant Elephant Grasses and Elephant’s Ear leaves
And Coconuts and Boababs and Elephant’s Foot Yams
And Palms and Oaks and Redwoods and Deodars
that stretch to the Blue Sky from the Brown Earth
Like Green Canopies and Towers.
Blessed is Greenness.

editors note:

Green be with you. – mh clay

Lesser Flowers

featured in the poetry forum June 14, 2023  :: 1 comment

The lesser known flowers
The low growing weeds
inspire in me

Bouquets of shameless market roses
Bold lilies in cellophane
Are revolting
Pathetic are the hostesses
Arranging them in vases
In carpeted drawing rooms.

A child walked to school
Picking dandelions and grass florets
Bunching them in a small fist
With sweet scented clover
A posy for a teacher
With kind eyes
And a ready smile.

For the Lord of Heaven
I shall carry only Earth’s weeds
And if He does not smile
I’ll weep for all eternity.

editors note:

We call ’em weeds only when we don’t want ’em. – mh clay