Hammock soul-therapy

Some times you just have to stop. 

My mind is crammed with 
sadness, madness, badness 
and a never ending 
Why?
Who are these people? 
How could they do that?
Three groups of children 
have been blown up or shot
in the last 4 weeks. 
Minya; Manchester; Aleppo 

To think is to scream.

So it's alright to stop, it's not my fault!

It's OK to swing gently
To and fro
While the sun shines through the
Orange, blue, green canvas stripes.

It's OK to twist gently
With the breeze
While the sun shines warmth
Deep into my soul

It's OK to just be.
As the sun sinks slowly
Across the bay 
And hides behind windmill hill.

I can only be defeated
If I never re-charge.
So it's OK just to stop 
and say it's not my fault.
And
Simply
Swing to and fro. 

Tomorrow I am ready.

She-wolf Tristesse (2)

Deep in her cave
She lies as
A single tear falls
Into the dark earth 

Through the cave mouth 
Which holds a window on the world
She sees a child
Who once was and
Deep in her sadness 
A deeper sadness still, wells up.

A sadness that deepens
To an anguish.
An anguish that deepens
To an excruciating pain.
An excruciating pain that
Explodes into a never ending howl!

With her howl 
The trees shake
Rivers rage and mountains moan,
While the elemental wind echo's her call.
The whole of nature cries out.

Why, man will you destroy yourself?

And deep in her cave
Another tear falls for
The child who once was but now never can be.

But through the cave mouth
That holds a window on the world
A voice as gentle
As a summer breeze 
whispers:

Not all men will destroy!

There is a man
Who died for love
And through this man 
All can learn and live to love
And in this love no child shall cry.

And deep in her cave
A third tear falls for
The Child who once was 
and yet still will be.


© Malcolm Alexander 2017


The upstart crow and the bouncy dog

The upstart crow
As it does know
Will jump and shake the feeder so

The upstart crow
As it does know
Then eats the seeds before they grow

The upstart crow
As it does know
Will jump and shake the feeder so
Then eats the seeds before they grow

The upstart crow
As it does know
Will jump and shake the feeder so
Then eats the seeds before they grow

The upstart crow
As it does know
Will jump and .......
Fly, fly, fly
Le chien gonfable arrive!

Chaffinch toddler

A miniature of mum
She wobbles and hesitates on the garden seat.
Looks down at the seed 
falling from the feeder to the stones below.
A breath and 
A tentative flutter
Up towards the green perch,
Nearly!
Did air traffic control refuse landing?
Mum flies down
With a beakful of seed
and with a caress of her beak
Allows the youngster some food. 
Another breath
A tentative flutter
Up towards the green perch,
Success!
Playing peek-a-boo
With mum popping seeds on each peek.

And Dad?
He's busy dear
Leave him to his dinner.

© Malcolm Alexander 2017

Seawood

Down in the shelter of the 
valley floor the pulling
and tugging late spring wind 
is far above us. Silver birch 
trees swing gently through the 
breeze, the tips of branches 
flecked green against a clear
blue sky. We’re deep in
a clear pool of dappled silver 
and grey bark, luminous green 
leaf-waves rippling overhead. 
Orange-tip butterflies flutter 
and tumble by, drifting from 
yellow celandine to sorrel 
whites. A grey wagtail bobs and 
weaves from stone to stone, 
dipping in the chattering 
stream. A winking citrus light 
on the stream bed. Nature ebbs
and flows round us in our 
silver grey ocean of trees. 
There are tiny shoals of willow
warblers circling over our 
heads. Liquid siren song holding
us under the surface of the 
world. Submerging us in the 
rhythm of the woodland.
© Malcolm Alexander 2017

The snoring pig

I suppose
She's lying,
Rolled on her side
In her corrugated tin tent.
Night has blanketed her in grey
Against the cold north wind blowing across the field. 
In the tugging, chill darkness even the hut is gone.
Only the gentle sound of the snoring pig 
Points to where she lies,
Rolled on her side
Sleeping.
Smiling?
I am.

© Malcolm Alexander 2017

The leaf and feather

I’ve been bothered by a leaf. Well half a leaf really, brown and 
crinkled. It’s been swinging across the kitchen window for days 
now suspended on the remains of a spider’s web. Just a single 
strand of web that allows the demi-leaf, we’ll call it, to tap, 
tap, flutter, back and forth in the breeze. 

It occasionally gets stuck part way over. Held briefly on its 
thread by a small, white, duck down feather which is also fixed 
to the glass. Presumably by the remaining parts of the web. 

I’m not sure what I should do about them, if anything or if I 
should simply leave them be. They seem an unlikely couple this 
demi-leaf and feather. Held together by a force completely 
out with their control. Meeting and separating and meeting again. 
Blown about by life. 

I’ll leave them be. Life will do what it will. Who knows maybe 
the web will bind them both together and hold them forever.

© Malcolm Alexander

She-wolf tristesse

Not powerful but full of power,
Of raw energy flashing from her eyes.

Intense, concentrated energy,
Drawn from experience of a hard fought life.

Protecting, fierce energy,
Tempered in the fire of motherhood.

Determined, ingrained energy,
Refusing to retreat whatever the pain.

Deep in her cave,
She lies,
Hiding.

© Malcolm Alexander 



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