War is Death.

Appalled and angry he stares after the lifting fuselage.

By his side his children sit in the dirt, with the whiff

of kerosene in their nostrils and their weeping mother 

trying to make sense of the inexplicable losses.


Firing weapons raise smoke to sun kissed skies,

now nowhere will be safe from their anger and hate,

together they try and understand the meaning and

imagining driving further, threats on every corner,

while soldiers clean their guns and wipe blood off

where weapons have invaded their fragile bodies,

and somewhere a general orders his men to kill

and kill and to kill again until he is all powerful.

A fragile world where death is ready to invade each

corner of life, overheating oceans and desertifying

the beautiful land – for selfishness and blind greed, 

and still they sow violence, burning and violating


their own, their land

and their hope

and everything loses.

Fear in the waves.

Shivering, shuddering beneath the leaden skies

soaking them, water running everywhere and lies,

all finding its way under their skin.

Pushed, unauthorised but terrified into obeisance,

obedience to the traffickers as the lights flicker

and waves roar over hard rocks.

Huddled, terrified they hold onto the frail touches

of each other and a craft barely above the seething

waters of a writhing sea.

There’s a guiding hand on the halting, struggling tiller,

and fear climbs and falls with the North Seas power,

and chugging ships churning wake.

A shout, Land! 

and sand and shores and folk with fluffy  blankets,

breaking the law set by a brutal minister.

Warmed, dried, dinking clean water, eating cold food,

huddling, terrified as they are found to be wanting

and treated like criminals.

‘We’ve come from Afghanistan where we worked for you.”

“We’ve run from a regime and my British Aunt is near.”

“Don’t send me away. I am only a child.”

Shivering, shuddering beneath the glowering gazes,

Huddled, terrified of where they will be going, They

only asked for mercy.

Still, the powers want them gone, still the people

are taught refugees are wrong, a transgression 

of oppression

and victims are made victims again.

Climate Crisis Floods

The water soaked into the earth, cooling its parched throat,

dripping through the crooked cracks and pooling in the 

deep, dry depths of the soil which drank it like a sot.

The clouds hovered nearer and more rain poured down,

filling the rivers, the holes and still more and some more.

The people watched it rise, unbelieving the speed; and

fear driven creatures and humans ran to the hills.

Even there, the water came running in rivulets, streams 

and then in full flood and washed away the living and

the dead into the mud streaked death trap of a deluge

of biblical proportions, but no one had an strong ark

and so eyes bleared by tears and sleeplessness saw

their lives taken by a maelstrom and eaten in moments.


Still the creatures ran and tried to swim away from the

gaping jaws of the flooding monsoon as it ground away

the earth, trees n villages disappeared as quickly as the

torrents could engulf them. Soon the small, shivering

children’s screamed, their fears and terrors lost in the

roar of the the angry, rushing, inundating cascade.


Quiet now, dripping water, sluggish streams still carry

the carnage of its crippling attack on the communities

and a contemplating mood comes on those left living

the nightmare of hunger, fear and the black clouds 

that are boiling over the horizon and darkening their

already black nightmare as they cozen rare resources


and wait, eyes dulled, voices muffled for the sounds

of rescue which does not come and their worries

are threatening to overwhelm and depressing their

energy and they sleep fitfully, empty bellies rumbling,

and mothers holding babies, try to feed them from 

empty breasts and fathers search for food in the mud.

Voices are heard and the press has found them, some

chocolate bars to throw over the washout and a word

that they are a few of millions who are in crisis. How

can they be rescued? How can they have hope? How

will they work together to leave their place and enter

the unknown, penniless, grieving, hungry and homeless?