Poetry of the Month - February

Many of Chris's poems address our environment and conservation, so it seems fitting that this month's theme is the environment.

We do hope you like what you see here, and please do check back next month!

Electric Glade

A photo of Coventry Cathedral taken immediately after it was bombed in World War Two. It’s called regeneration, so don’t be afraid
Of the giant giraffe with legs splayed
As he protects a lagoon, an electric glade
For the new generation, so don’t be afraid

In the blue lagoon that never stirs
The rippled concrete only purrs
With the hurried feet of his and hers
In the blue lagoon that never stirs

And the giant giraffe just looks on
He knows the Phoenix has risen and gone
And from the ashes, he’s the chosen one
So the giant giraffe just looks on

He’s so unique and he knows it too
He’s the placental genus the stars drew
He’s the rebirth; he’s the wise and the new
He’s so unique and he knows it too

So when sunshine meets his steely gaze
Across the courtyards, through the maze
To sculptings of a different phase
They bow to him and meet his steely gaze

Across the bombed out city walls
Across constructed waterfalls
That sigh for us as the traffic calls
Inside these bombed out city walls

He sees the names etched in red brick
Young or old just take your pick
A wall of peace, he gets a kick
To see their names, white, on red brick

As day meets night, he takes a drink
From the blue lagoon, as it lights the link
With the past, that might make you think
As day meets night, come, take a drink

My Secret Garden

My secret garden will have lots of trees
Including one with bamboo leaves
That will rustle and tease
At night fall

My secret garden will have water
That falters and saunters
And freezes and alters
At night fall

My secret garden will have velvet grass
The kind that will surpass
Expectations of the animal class
Visiting at night fall

My secret garden will have flowers
With pollen for bees to devour
And for me to scan upon the hour
Before night fall

My secret garden will have a swing
Where birds can join with me and sing
As we learn a style of courting
At night fall

My secret garden will have walls
Where sleeping cats will sprawl
Or hide from brawls
As night falls

My secret garden is a well kept secret
It’s a plan so hard to interpret
And so I just dream of it
At night fall

In praise of the dawn

A photo of a beach with sunlight shining through the clouds, taken by Chris Hoskins. When clouds blossom at dawn
the sky peeps in as a sleepless sun yawns.

Flowers awaken the dew
And blink like the stars that crown darkest blue.

A silence sings in praise
of geese that greet the half-lit summer haze.

While a moon in search of rest
creeps around the day to sleep on her breast.

Bow to everything

Simplicity draws me close.
Closer than a thoughtful harmony

I’m transported to a silent landscape
to breathe in the ancient air and
wrap myself in veils.

Passing my fingers through a cloud
I catch the spirit and create an air sculpture
and someone picks it up
from where I’ve left it hanging
like Spring on a Summer’s day.

I become a praying mantis
I bow to the inconsolable earth
and to earthlings
and to my fragile existence
To everything and everyone
as precious as starlight

To the peace that eludes us
And to the humanity that feeds us.