Earth fear wire & slaughter
her screams turn my blood to clay
enveloped, as she is, in the cleansing flow
a terrible fate to be washed at the stake
*
my toe touched the meniscus of the lake
it wrinkled like the skin of a deflating balloon
I felt the heat, walked gingerly across the surface
*
she reaches, grasps the hanging tongue of flame
she snaps, peers through the translucent pink
licks, sucks, smiles, it tastes sweet, like cherry
*
for millennia a pocket of air has solidified like a giant lozenge
hard and transparent; inside a kind of gel, delicate
filigrees of trilobites float like fish flying in an aviary
*
the grains of oxygen and nitrogen squeeze through
the timer’s tiny waist, the sun descends into the ocean until
the last grain drops, the timer turns, the light has drowned
- John Kitchen
.. from the rubbing of two sticks ..
to cold coils wrapped round asbestos rods switch
for red heat reflective glow dry skin mottled legs
flick bits onto the element for the flash and char
out of the brazier a poker up Edward the Second’s arse - what a way
to go in the night set light to the rival gang’s bonfire rockets
from milk bottles, penny bangers, light the blue and
Smoke on the Water Stratocaster Marshall Rickenbacker
Arthur Brown I am the God of Hellfire and
somebody warbling you’re my Eeeeternal flame
of funeral pyres Viking burials fiery brands of Game of Thrones
Joan at the stake Pittsburgh black and blue steak & ale
eel based liquor distillation prohibition Al Capone’s fat cigar
my dad’s roll up stuck to his lip ten Number Six and a box of matches, please
skip assembly, have a fag, have a drag, my mate, Tim with his
twenty Dunhill kingsize gilt lighter and an Austin A30
spark across the points combustion consumption
explosive mix fossil fuels global warming four degree
rise extended desert ice cap permafrost meltdown
- John Kitchen
horizon stretches across fenland flats a rise of vapour-trail
salt water saturate the treachery of a tidal creek’s fill up
your elemental welcome package
mud cracked stained by algae black skeins of wildfowl
be wary the surge Baltic invasion the defences look puny
a memory of Raff bombing runs aerial flash
somewhere across these marshes King John’s lost jewels his
ill-gotten gains not much history here floods and drainage
remote madness in-breeding and shotguns
a splash of vinegar on quick boil samphire ozone clagged
heavyslip wellies on the ditch mud of this edgeland
this not quite sea
- John Kitchen
If
If I was made of fire
I’d flicker and lick
I’d sparkle and sizzle
I’d scorch the earth
I’d forge a path.
If I was made of earth
I’d be a smooth hard hand-shaped stone
– worn by sea, sand and rain
forged over time
a comfort, an unshifting shape, holding.
If I were water
I’d flow, steady and strong
carving new shapes and ox bow lakes,
building on what is to create what can become.
If I were air – If I were air...
I’d drift and float, gently caressing
but then a sudden blast of icy cold.
I could tear down trees or waft away a dandelion clock
If I were air.
I am fire, I am earth, I am water, I am air
I am
Earth
Earth to sow
Earth to grow
Rich soil crumbling through fingers
digging up potatoes in grandad’s garden
Somehow always finding one more
wiping off the dirt with the side of a thumb
tracing the newly felt shape – its first caress.
Earth to dig – in trenches and ditches
holding in or holding back,
watering or draining,
protection or confinement?
Earth to build and to bake
the jug, the mug on the table
used and held - warming hands and hearts
washed and used and washed and used
and washed and used again.
Maybe one day broken – now shards in the base of a plant pot
or preserved as an object of history
buried in its own source,
then retrieved onto a museum’s shelf.
- Christine Rivers
An aquatic love song
Inspired by ‘Answer’ by Carol Ann Duffy
If I were made of water
I would become hot, frisky tea for you
Steaming drops for your morning shower
A deep, relaxing evening bath.
If I were made of water
I’d be icy cold
In a deep, refreshing glass, with lemon
Or in a pot
I’d be part of your chicken soup, to nourish you.
If I were made of water
My rain would care for your garden
My dew would gleam on your flowers
My snow would be pretty on a sunny winter’s day
My sea would be warm for your swimming.
If I were made of water
I would flow over your body
Soak you to the skin with love
Lick into your secret parts -
So many ways I would water you.
- David Pollack