 The forest is shrouded in quiet.
Hushed grasses stay mute in the breeze. There's no danger it seems, no riot. So why just the feeling of unease. Every hair is stood to attention. Every sense attuned to the void. No sound to offer a mention. Yet flight instincts are ready and buoyed. Every pupil is scanned to the bushes. Every hoof prepared for the race. No stripe to be seen in the rushes. But the pulse just quickens a pace. Ears twitch and strain for a murmur. For the foot fall of velvety paw. Dust cushions the imprint of grandeur. No whisper of troublesome spoor. Breath is held in the moment. A pause before imminent strike. Prey pray for salvation, atonement. To be spared the carnivorous bite. The stalk is finally over. Forgotten in one leap and a bounce. A blaze of orange breaks cover. No chance for the chosen, one pounce. Fang and claw stretch out in the capture. Primal scream unleashed in the fall. Grabbed by the throat in the rapture. The vanquished can utter no more. One gasp just left in the mortal. One chest pump from imminent doom. Darkness has surrounded life's portal. But the tiger still shines in the gloom. By Simon Blackler Copyright © Simon Blackler 2019 If you care to comment on this poem at all please feel free to do so below.
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 Forgive me mother, for getting too big.
No room is there left now, for lion or pig. Forgive me mother, for multiplying too many. In habitat loss, species die two a penny. Forgive me mother, for conceiving more kids. No concept of growth, or population lids. Forgive me mother, for expanding so fast. The cities created, such shadows they cast. Forgive me mother, for sprawling too wide. Railroads and highways, with you they collide. Forgive me mother, for commuting so much. Clogging your airways, losing nature's touch. Forgive me mother, for being a child. Trashing kerbside in tantrum, forest when riled. Forgive me mother, for creating such mess. With plastic and litter, turtles choke in distress. Forgive me mother, for polluting your streams. Blackening water with oil, culling indigenous dreams. Forgive me mother, for depleting your gifts. Searching for treasure, only finding thrift. Forgive me mother, for claiming your body. Raping your landscapes, all for more money. Forgive me mother, for flaunting your wealth. Felling your trees, at the expense of health. Forgive me mother, for warming you up. No snow left for white bear, grey seal or pup. Forgive me mother, for acting the fool. Playing for time, when ice caps pool. Forgive me mother, for gambling it all. In Wall Street casinos, on stock rise and fall. Forgive me mother, for trying your patience. No thoughts to actions, just quarrelling between nations. Forgive me mother, for electing the leaders. Barely out of nappy, consumption hungry breast feeders. Forgive me mother, for everything they diss. When comparing their manhood, or height of their piss. Forgive me mother, for surrendering my power. Not voicing my stance, championing beast and flower. Forgive me mother, for neglecting my duty. Of being protector of the Earth, steward of beauty. By Simon Blackler Copyright © Simon Blackler 2019 If you care to comment on this poem at all please feel free to do so below. |
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February 2026
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