#52weeksofnaturepoetry, Poetry

#52weeksofnaturepoetry Week 2 – Rambling along the cliffs

Our boots squelch, balance entirely dependent on

flapping arms and the promise of bird song up ahead.

Through the foliage below, silver and lapis

can be glimpsed.

Tide slapping the cliffs, spraying salty blisters.

They pop

just as the mud bubbles under us do.

Talons hover at eyeline; the huntress studies,

carefully, carefully. Dives.

Our attention is caught by

a rustling in the undergrowth

before we spot her ascent.

Beaked or whiskered, the noisemaker eludes our curious eyes.

Disappointed, we take

another step

and land in the view beyond:

green-gold-red and brown, flecked with neon lichen.

I whistle, attempting to mimic the motley of calls and responses

flitting from branch to branch.

Perhaps I can even entice the wind to tell me its secrets.

The trees join in, adding their groans and grumbles.

Great-grandparents chortling at mere youngsters.

This poem is part of my #52weeksofnaturepoetry project to raise funds for UK wildlife charity RSPB and to encourage an appreciation for nature. If you enjoyed it, please consider sharing/reblogging and/or donating to the RSPB via my Just Giving page here.

Help keep wildlife wild.

#52weeksofnaturepoetry, Poetry

#52weeksofnaturepoetry Week 1: Log House

These open wounds fill over time.

Spongy umbrellas held high, prospective tenants

look upon the cracked stump, climb it, reach inside

and settle.

Shelved cities spill out.                 

Sometimes

a family – two parents, one child –

stand ready at the mulchy base

while cousins look on

in rain caps.

Mummers

to treasure seekers, wanderers.

Those who scuttle, flit, crawl.

Proud of the dead bark

and the breath it still holds.

This poem is part of my #52weeksofnaturepoetry project to raise funds for UK wildlife charity RSPB and to encourage an appreciation for nature. If you enjoyed it, please consider sharing it and/or donating to the RSPB via my Just Giving page here.

Help keep wildlife wild.

books, Uncategorized

Well, this snuck up quickly — The Curse of Earthias, my latest book, is now out!

Hi everyone! Just a little announcement post (I know the title says it, but I thought I’d elaborate).

After much hard work revising and editing (read about it here), I’m finally able to share with you the book which evolved from two different ideas I had back when I was about twelve. It’s been a long time coming, and I put it aside so many times to work on other projects, so it’s amazing to think my little manuscript is now an actual real life book.

While not the first full manuscript I wrote, I started drafting very early versions of chapters one and two when I was in high school, and while those chapters have been lost in the depths of time, I believe that the tone I tried to capture then still resides at the heart of this final version.

Also, on an interesting note, one of the main characters is autistic like me, though as he isn’t human (he’s an Earth Healer – similar to an elf) and the entire story is set in a fantasy world, the term ‘autism’ is not used anywhere in the book – but the traits are there. It was interesting discovering this, as it wasn’t intentional and the first draft was completed long before I was diagnosed. I suppose I put more of myself into him than I thought.

Anyway, without further ado, I present to you The Curse of Earthias:

Taken in by Queen Celeste of Xylantria when she was a child, a young woman called Yusumi finds herself accused of murdering her beloved mentor.

With the help of her friend, the enormous wolf-lion Jidan, she flees the royal city. Soon after, they meet Xanna and Kai, two Earth Healers from the mystical forest of Earthias. They are on a journey to find a cure for their cursed Wise Woman – a curse cast by human magic, which has been dead for centuries.

But behind the scenes, a darker power is at play. Pursued by demonic and undead forces, can they find answers for the Earth Healers and clear Yusumi’s name?

Poetry

All the lives around us #WorldAnimalDay

They’re in the grass, the soil, the peat

They make their residence in lakes and trees.

Some scurry underfoot

Or soar above heads

Wriggle on bellies or stand on legs.

Some have been confused for mythical creatures —

Unicorns, sirens — because of their features.

They’re all around us, every day.

Some even share our homes and encourage us to play.

But whether they’re family or wild through and through,

When they’re mistreated, driven out, abandoned

We can make a difference

By helping them rebuild their lives anew.

Poetry

If we are ignored

The grass is grey, crisp bones poking through.

Buttercups, they are, dandelion clocks

chiming the century after the forests fell.

The echoes fertilise their corms, pushing to flower

at every survivor who stumbles across

holding up their torn petal-banners to give their voices

to the voiceless. Broken, worn, silenced before

by those who did not live to regret their iron fists, those who

choked on their black nectar as they feasted from golden mugs,

no-one left to mourn.

Poetry

Cacti Nymph

She’s heard whispers of cousins who were born

from branches, from leaves

from soils full of treasured minerals.

The thought makes her climb down the spines to the molten sand,

dip in her hand

and bring a scoop of those yellow granules to her eyes,

wondering if they are bland

because they already used up their nutrients

forming her cactus mother,

or if there never were any

and she is either miracle or curse.

Poetry

Spirit Walker

The silent children nod their heads as it approaches,

jumping from the thin branches to hitch a ride on its reaching antlers.

Green spreads from each step it takes, vines spiralling

into unicorn horn points to warn off man

if he should venture too close to the gateway.

It kisses the flowers in the mushroom ring

when the moon spills down, greets the waiting oak,

and passes through with its precious cargo safe and free.

Poetry

The Walking Tree

The tree gazed at the disappearing ground.

It couldn’t stay there,

its nourishment would be gone.

So it gathered up its roots into vast legs

and stumbled its way across the

evaporating forest

to an area of neat grassland,

digging down to plant itself beside

the hive of two-legged beings

who spilt their freshly poured coffee

and ran to their moving metal boxes

to get out of its wake.