 The shaman stands a warrior, bandana on his head.
Knowing just what’s needed, no words are to be said. His drum now does his talking, a beat that echoes voice. Hide stretched taut with sinew, red stag pelt of choice. Air quite thick and smudge filled, pungent from the sage. Gratitude placed in abundance, tobacco off the gauge. Ground is splashed with water, holy from the well. Sacred space is granted, healing awaits the bell. Body draped in blanket, turned to face the altar. Sprit guide and panther, strain upon the halter. Feathers from the condor quiver, soar round wounded being. Sifting life from death, bad energy gone a-fleeing. Persistent blocks and leakages, require needle and the thread. Plus deft touch of a surgeon, bringing addict off the med. Cock pheasant and rabbit paw, grace wand of shining gleam. The shake and shake of rattle, brings patient back from dream. Chief rises proud completed, hand gripped upon his staff. A crook of finest heritage, adorned with peacock laugh. His shield of sun and swallows, of pink and purple flowers. The essence that of which, just heighten all his powers. These skills of his fine tuned, to that of soul intention. All fuel to the fire of his, too many tools to mention. By Simon Blackler Copyright © Simon Blackler 2020 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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August 2025
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