#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.

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I’m going to be doing some fundraising! #52weeksofnaturepoetry

Hearing about the effects of climate change and deforestation has long played on my mind — I’m at my most comfortable when I’m outside in nature, away from cars and sirens, bright lights, crowds, and the myriad of other things that often overload me — and the idea that everything I care for so deeply will be gone one day if we don’t stop wounding our planet is utterly terrifying.

Like many people, I wanted to do something to protect the wildlife around me. It means too much to me to simply give in and let things happen. But as I struggle when I’m around other people, and my mental health (I’m talking about you, anxiety) is not up to allowing me to physically volunteer somewhere or write long, detailed letters to organisations and MPs to encourage them to do better, I wasn’t sure what I could do.

Fundraising was in the back of my mind, but as I tried it some years ago and didn’t really get the response I wanted (and some even insinuated that I was wasting my time — talk about a hope squasher), I was scared that if I tried again, the same thing would happen. However, having recently listened to interviews with Diary of a Young Naturalist author, Dara McAnulty, along with other authors writing about their own love of nature and using it as a way to encourage and educate others, I thought perhaps I could do the same with my own writing.

Though narrative non-fiction is difficult for me, I adore writing poetry and often use it to explore what I’m feeling. So, at first, I simply considered writing a poetry collection and having all the proceeds go to my charity of choice (RSPB – they’re UK based like me and do some great work), but then I thought of a better idea. Or rather, I improved upon that one — what if, for a whole year (or 52 weeks), I wrote a poem about some of my favourite wildlife, and with each one, encouraged readers to donate to the RSPB and/or share and reblog? And, at the end of the 52 weeks, I could still publish all the poems together in a collection and have all the proceeds go to the RSPB, just like I originally planned.

The sharing and reblogging part is particularly important, as I know lots of people wish they could donate to things but can’t, and that way they can still help bring awareness to the wonders of the UK’s wildlife and thus encourage more care and protection for it.

So, after contacting the RSPB’s fundraising department and getting the go-ahead, I’ll be starting my #52weeksofnaturepoetry next month, and as the name suggests, it will run until this time next year. (You may already have noticed the new menu option at the top of this blog, all poems under the hashtag will appear there for easier reading.)

I’m still rather worried that this will turn out like my last fundraising attempt, but if I manage to encourage just one person’s love for nature, then I’ll be happy.

(Oh, and for anyone wondering, I’ll also be writing my usual, unrelated posts alongside this project.)

Also, if you’re curious about the RSPB, their website is here.

And if you want to take a gander at the Just Giving page I’ve recently set up in order to do this, it’s here.

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

Bee quiz

How busy are the bees you see

When you see bees,

If you see bees?

Are bees the bee’s knees

At being busy bees?

 

I used to see them daily,

Buzzing to and fro,

Watching the nipping sips

They took from flowers

When they tired

And began to slow.

 

Those busy bees,

Those bee’s knees,

Have they busied themselves away?

Or have their tasty flowers

Given them death’s kiss

With a pesticide wave turned stray?

Poetry

Ears

An elephant’s ears are like grey, wrinkled sails

shading the ground for little creatures

who scurry from bush and tree

dragging long, furry tails.

 

A bat’s ears are keen and tune into slight sounds,

hearkening to the call of insects

filling the dark night air

to swarm all around.

 

A parrot’s ears are covered with glossy green feathers

hidden completely from sight,

never hinting when they’re listening

for slight changes in the weather.

 

A hare’s ears are furry but upright,

always on the alert for danger,

ready to respond to the sound of a threat,

running swiftly from a predator’s swipe.

 

Poetry

Small Cares

 

Why do you hang your head

so low, my pet?

You may only be the size

of a snow drop or crocus,

and a puddle may appear

as a small lake to you,

but why is that a sad thing?

Think of all you can

see and hear

that no other can.

Observe the flowers as they first emerge,

seek the moment they reach for the sun!

See the bees buzzing back to their homes

and help them carry their bags of pollen.

Listen to the secrets of dormice

and ask to fly on the backs of butterflies.

Sleep in the shade of a snail’s shell,

be carried by a team of worker ants.

But most of all, my pet: live!