You Will Follow Us
We are birds in a tree.
Shooting, trapping, pollution
and building have destroyed
most of our kind.
For the moment, those left
but one by one we are going,
One day you will not hear us sing
and another sound will be heard –
it will be of the world caving in,
not bit by almost invisible bit,
but with a tired roar,
and you will have followed us into
One of my greatest concerns is of the need to conserve the environment. Those of you who read Green Monkey Publications posts may have read ‘Popping Off’. If you have not yet done so and you would like to read it, you will find the poem by scrolling down.
They are flying gold
to me and those who know them.
Bees thrumming harvests.
sparking flowers to fruit,
now dwindling slowly.
So many have gone.
The humming golden ones
are dying, dying.
Abundance is a myth.
Bankruptcy is fast coming.
Some flowers are dead.
When the bees teemed
forth, the crops sang happily.
They are winging off.
Those who toil within petals
are almost, almost lost.
There will be no grave
to mark the final passing.
No burnished plaque.
The pollinators are popping
off, and then so will we,
lamenting: ”Too late!”
Written by the author as an answer to the question: If the bees go, what happens to us?
In pushing the bees into a losing position, it is worth considering that we could be doing the same to ourselves. I encourage readers to give it careful thought and to ask, ”What can I do to see this does not happen?”
To you without illustration, what image or images come to you after reading this?
A butterfly beneath the sun:
part of a rainbow that’s come unspun.
what has touched me
a blue butterfly
balancing upon a new leaf
resting briefly there
singing in unison
dawn birds welcome the sun
forage in a tree
fish splash and circle
break the sun’s filtering rays
love this morning’s time
an old beetle sits
in silent contemplation
a little Bhudda
the soil shifts slightly
an earthworm is barely here
then down and gone again
velvet buttons swim
they are tadpoles exploring
loving the algae
a dragonfly’s wings
catch and shout the day’s light
disperse it for free
I have sat watching
slow to move and quick to see
what has touched me
© Andrew Pender-Smith
I composed this lyric a few weeks ago. Anyone looking at it carefully, and I hope you do, will see that it is comprised of eight separate haiku designed to link through, to create a lyric.
Will You Come Back?
‘’Out of something new, harrowing death may come, unnervingly swift and more disturbingly silent than its concealing breeze.’’ Craig Carden
‘’If your mother never told you to stop and listen when the birds sing out a warning, you’d best do so now.’’ Craig Carden
His dark pupils were dilated and his body was tense with excitement. Her quick movements agitated him, and he was becoming increasingly eager to get to her. Hard-muscled and taut, he was watching her as she stood semi-naked in front of a brightly lit mirror while she brushed her glossy auburn hair. His legs were stretched to the limit, and his breathing quickened. He moaned twice while rubbing his face against the bedroom wall.
Though she was in a room in an apartment building across the road, he could see her clearly. His eyesight was excellent and his green eyes now had a brighter hue as he watched and moaned, deeper this time. All the while he continued pressing against the wall, rubbing first the left side of his face against it, and then the right. How he longed to be out of this place, to be free to get close to her. He would be on her in a second.
The above is an extract from the newly published novelette ‘Will You Come Back?’ by Andrew Pender-Smith. The book blurb and the book can be found by clicking on this link:
This is the latest in the short series of children’s poems placed inside a photo. Teachers and students of English and the dramatic arts are free to use them. I hope they prove fun and useful.
With good wishes,
in near-blue sea
spinning, racing, diving
Cold and clear
never-ending vistas of mesmerising,
softly undulating underwater scenes
across miles of ocean
Sending fish scattering
travelling in mad panic
outwitting oscillating currents
rampaging winds whip waves into
mighty jumps and crashes, flaying thousands
South Africa, like so many places on earth, is facing decimation of its flora and fauna at a horrendous rate. The need to protect what we have left has never been greater. ‘Dance Lightly’ is this poet’s plea to do just that.
Dance lightly upon this earth
because it is not yours.
Take radiant wing with a butterfly.
Listen to the tiniest hum of the bees.
Pause during the rush and grab of life
to hear a frog and a chirruping cricket.
Let snakes live in slow, slithering peace.
Know where fish swim and clean waters flow.
Understand the sea and all that lives within.
Fly high with migrating birds and
look about with empathy.
Watch closely the sunning insect and the
Join the song of the cicada and the
hop-sing-flight of every bird, and
Touch the new moon and savour
the true value of the sun.
Then share the joy of the insider.
Teach others not to stamp and bulldoze.
Be a sharp hawk against pollution.
Laugh with the wind and run with arms
outstretched along the wildest of rivers.
Dive deep into the cool pool below a
Teach all of Nature to those who do not understand.
Be part of the drive that helps our planet thrive
so that you can say:‘’Do you see?
Do you now truly see why it is best to
© Andrew Pender-Smith