Our World

Imagine if we owned our world,

the air that flows to every place,

the turquoise ice upon a mountain,

and all of Nature‘s grace unfurled,

and we, a single human race.

~

Winter snowflakes flurry from the blue,

and settle softly on the morphing land.

The burning sun unveiled, and what a view,

a fresh new world laid out by Nature’s hand.

But then I draw a finger through the snow,

and so can see the pristine white below,

the surface tarnished by Pollution’s stains.

My eyes sting, face tightens, heart pains.

We know we must step up and take the reins

from Dinosaurs with diesel in their veins.

~

We need to close our eyes and dream

and see a future world to be,

for if you love a dream, and others

share it too, you’ll have a team

to help the acorn grow a tree.

~

A helicopter seed, so slowly sinking,

sliding sideways in the scented breeze,

over waving virent foliage, crinkling

water shrouding mirrored lichened trees.

Now wondering out across a leafy pavement,

drawn toward a swarming crowd of cyclists,

gliding forward, dragging wind along.

Flowers. Fresh air. London’s future song.

~

This world is ours, has always been,

though sometimes this can pass unseen,

we helplessly accept our fate,

or realise our choice to make,

just think how it would feel to see

our dreams become reality.

Rocky Beaches

On rocky beaches boulders stand and shingle clatters down the age old slope,

the arched waves hunch their shoulders, fall, and shingle shatters once again to land

beneath tremendous roaring swell to drag them tumbling back without a hope,

and far away the pouring spray is heard, and rumbling breakers on the sand.

Note on this poem; this was actually one stanza I remember of a larger poem which I wrote over 25 years ago, but I find it also works as a poem in its own right. If I locate the written copies of my older poems in future, I may publish the full version of the poem.