Journey of Words

Category: Poetry

  • on Ukraine

    Russian soldiers knowpeace lies across the borderwhat is this all for? ~ n.b. The border to Armenia, that is. Reports of desertions from the Russian forces, reflect the fact that this war on Ukraine has no legitimate basis. CLP 26/10/2023 →

  • on numbers

    Gaza’s two milliondivided by twenty trucksneeds a miracle ~ n.b. If you believe in miracles, maybe the five fish and two loaves story might be repeated and the twenty permitted lorries of aid crossing from Egypt into Gaza, will do the trick and feed the two million. Call me a Doubting Thomas, I don’t think →

  • on Ukraine

    persistent drizzlelet’s talk about the weatherwinter looms again ~ n.b. The last weeks before everything slows up and armies dig in for another miserable winter. CLP. 17/10/2023 →

  • on land

    for what is it worth?vines, wheat, water, grazing, homesfor what it is worth ~ n.b. Ashes to ashes. Recycled carbon. One life. →

  • On food

    An open, honest and modest essay from George Monbiot on the need to feed. https://www.monbiot.com/2023/10/04/the-cruel-fantasies-of-well-fed-people/ It is a long and challenging article, as one would hope from a man with humanity at heart. CLP 11/10/2023 →

  • on Ukraine

    diffused sunlight onroads, rivers, fields, autumn leavesspread of crimson hue ~ CLP 10/10/2023 →

  • On Ukraine

    Bang, bang, bang. Door closed.Someone’s knocking on each side.Do not let them in. ~ n.b. Day 583. Futility. “Was it for this the clay grew tall?” (Wilfred Owen). CLP 29/09/2023 →

  • on Ukraine

    I read five, eight, oneBefore too long it’ll be yearsLosing track of time ~ n.b. Every single day there is more war. Some people are getting very rich. There is always money for war, but for earthquakes and securing infrastructure, not so much. CLP 28/09/2023 →

  • on time

    unfurling rosebudreveals deep complexitydepth of her beauty ~ CLP 24/09/2023 →

  • on Ukraine

    tuning out the newsvillages lost or regainedwe head for the beach ~ n.b. War, long periods of boredom, broken by moments of complete terror, so something like that. I’m lucky to live in a country where a lost village means coastal erosion, no longer Viking longships full of men seeking new land to farm. CLP →