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Jun 2019 · 184
The underneath
Isabel Jun 2019
So much above
So many shapes and textures
So many shades of green
I cannot tell
How steep the *****
How high the bank
How far above the - manyness -
So much above
          me
While here I stand
Looking at the underneath

I could, if course, go up
Mount this hill
And stride the ridge
Within the birdsong and the freer air
Look down on all the little people
With their little lives
And me above
          them
Looking at the underneath

But here I stand
Admiring the reverse of each new leaf
Unturned
Where bugs crawl
And small creatures scutter
And only the occasional purple flower
Reaches down for a kiss
The green, the glory, the multitude
Is all above
Me
And I am here
Looking at the underneath
This might be about life and stuff. Or it might just be about standing at the bottom of a steep green bank covered with growing things. I'm not sure, I just found it when I went for a walk.
May 2019 · 241
Butterfly
Isabel May 2019
You were telling me about the latest report of the Intergovernmental Panel and the necessity of fundamentally restructuring the socioeconomic system

                                       Oh look

the global fossil fuel resources

                                              a butterfly

natural gas developments

                                   it's fluttered down

Yes I'm listening...carbon capture

                          as if the sky were shedding petals

Regulations on emissions, I agree

                                               it's exactly the blue of

bridge fuel to renewables

                                       Look! There it goes

climate catastrophe

                                            I just have to capture

death sentence of our generation

                                                 just that moment when it
                                                    vanishes back into the blue
                                                         seems to become part of the sky
Just trying to describe my flighty irrepressible mind when I try to comprehend all the serious stuff..
Isabel May 2019
I gave up my seat
For the woman with the walker
And then the man with Parkinson's got on
With his wife and daughter
The woman (who had MS)
Offered her seat to the man with Parkinson's
He refused

The man, his wife and daughter (standing)
The woman with MS
And me (cross-legged on the floor)
We chatted
The daughter ate a cake
And cracked a joke
We smiled
And all the while
The other man (with the bike)
'Considerate Construction' on his chest
Sat there
In the disabled seat

The man with Parkinson's
His wife and daughter (standing)
The woman with MS (sitting with her walker)
And me (cross-legged on the floor)
We shared communication
Compassion
Community
And -yes- consideration

And I could have cried for
The other man
(The man with the bike)
Cold
Uncaring
Callous
What construct could carry
Mr Considerate Construction
Into the arms
Of co-existence?
To join
Our brief community
Created
In the carriage
True story
May 2019 · 147
For you
Isabel May 2019
Oh sad sweet child
Come take this little bird
Pink/grey fluff ball
Lollipop
Cobweb nester
Hedgerow jester
Hold her softly
Let her go

She and her crew
Sweet peeps
Bouncing through the tree tops

Sad child
Bad child
Mad child
Watch them go
Here
There
Where?
Into the blue sky
Child did she show you
The sweet blue sky?
For all the people who write sad poems, this is for you x
May 2019 · 370
Complicated taxonomy
Isabel May 2019
I was very pleased to find
A fungus that sometimes (not always)
May contain algae
And so may be described
As partially lichenised

So when I can't make up my mind
I am just evolving me
I'm not divided
Undecided
Only naturalised
Isabel May 2019
You tell me tales of Rio
Thailand, Fiji, Cairns and Rome
I know that you are thinking
I'm a boring stay-at-home
Here's me, so rough and scruffy
-You, impeccably dressed
I know that you expect that I'll
Be suitably impressed

But while you're clocking air miles
I'm planting trees at home
To **** up all the carbon
We have recklessly let go
And while you're busy shopping
Trying to buy your life some zest
I'm too busy laying hedges
Too be suitably impressed

I'm sorry, these things you boast of
Are not doing it for me
Not all the things that one can buy
Compare to just one tree
I really shouldn't show off - but
You see my life is truly blessed
With each flower, bird or bumble-bee
I'm suitably impressed

So stop boasting of your travels
Stop judging by the cost
If that is all you care about
Such treasures will be lost
Your obsession with your image
Your concern with money, wealth
Is ultimately certain
To affect your mental health
Just stop. Step outside into nature
It's a simply made request
I'm sure you'll see the wonder
And be suitably impressed
Just occasionally I end up doing old fashioned regular rhyming poetry. I think it's a defence mechanism.
May 2019 · 533
Taiba
Isabel May 2019
Taiba wears her coats like a queen
The room warms up when she enters
She drops laughter like glitter behind her
When she eats chips, I expect they feel honoured
By the way, for you people from other lands, that's British chips. Big fat greasy fried pieces of potato. It's important that you understand.
May 2019 · 353
Empty nest
Isabel May 2019
I remember the first time I left you at the childminder's
Walking down the street feeling strange but free
Nothing to push or carry
And now you're moving out
For the second (or is it the third?) time
And I feel exactly the same
Is that wrong?

But I think that I will feel that something's missing
When you take your Lego men off the shelves
He's 29! Love our grown men-children.. he writes poetry too, so it's all good
May 2019 · 245
My son Robin
Isabel May 2019
Robin you are
Bright confident and friendly
A burst of sweet song
Joyous and true
But sometimes what that means is
'Get out of my territory'
And sometimes all you want
Is for me to find you some food
He was well-named, though I say it myself...
May 2019 · 304
Sara
Isabel May 2019
My friend Sara
Feeds eggs to crows
She mothers turkeys, dogs, and bees
And fine young men

She walks like a goddess amongst the wild things
Crying over otters
And bewitching hares

Guardian of sharp implements
Roaming cattle and wandering cats
She flies along hedgerows
Laying them with strength and tenderness
And avoiding tall trees
In deference to songbirds

Inside she is all soft nesty warmth
Like a dormouse
Which just occasionally unfurls
To show fangs and claws

My friend Sara
Reminds me of blackthorn
Fiercely protective wild creature home
Soul that shines like blossom
May 2019 · 176
It's a hard life
Isabel May 2019
All I want to do
Is sit under a tree
And write poems
But I have to
Go to work
And pay the bills
And put out the bins
And do the washing
And read the news
And share the post
And sign the petition
And save the world
And do the washing up
I have to mend my shoes
And **** my socks
And put out the recycling
And write my MP
And stop the destruction of the planet
And do the washing
Do the washing up
And save the bees
And end extinction
And wash the bins
And change some minds
And share some hope
And plant some seeds
And do the washing up
I have to mend the world
And clean some minds
And stop the post
And put out the destruction
And hang up the washing
And save the recycling
And clean out my MP
And pay the bees
And write to work
And stop some mind
And plant some change
And **** the news
And be the change that saves the planet
And work to stop the end
And destroy the extinction that puts out the bees
And plant the change to mend the new planet
And write the destruction to stop the end of minds
And plant the new bees that work to save the the world
And hang the washing up
And all I want to do
Is sit under a tree
And write a poem
And hang the washing up
May 2019 · 414
Oak sunrise
Isabel May 2019
My mother oak she brings me
Such dainty gifts and treats
A glee of **** that monkey swing
Against a sky of candy blue and
Tiny creeps in lattice tracery
Of buds and chaffinch pink
Behind beneath above - the buzz
Humming orchestral multitude
A wrenful joy of song upwells
And then the sun
May 2019 · 458
Buzzards
Isabel May 2019
Two buzzards on a winter tree
Side by side, smart and efficient
Guardians of my countryside
They don't care about Brexit
They are not interested in all the silly politicians
Unless they were dead
In which case they'd eat them
And tidy up the place
I wrote this back in January. Now the trees are in leaf, but we're still in a mess.
Isabel May 2019
The Native American man
Is combing his hair outside Primark
With his eagle feathers and his pipes and drums
Waiting in a cardboard box
Waiting
For the concrete to disintegrate
Greggs and Marks and Spencers crumble
To the beat of the drums
Waiting
For green to creep across the face of Waterstones
And bilberry bloom at the bus stop
And a moss carpet pad the safety barriers with velvet
Waiting
For the beat of the drums
For those feathers to soar over forest
And the silk of his hair fly free in the wind
This was a vision that came to me one morning on the way to work. The man did have the most beautiful hair!
May 2019 · 186
Bees in my garden
Isabel May 2019
Each one
Is like a drop of nectar in my day
I sip
The sweet bumble
While the miners dig for victory
And the leafcutter
Snips a piece from my heart
And seals it tight
Against disaster
May 2019 · 381
Brindled Beauty: for Greta
Isabel May 2019
She sits
Atop a myrtle bush
Wingless
She cannot fly
But sends out her desire
Her future dreams
Through the unsuspecting air
Her belief
In distant generations
Borne upon the breeze
Hope of the unseen
Messaged across the barren lands
And am I powerless?
This is inspired by a moth we came across in the Scottish Highlands whilst working with Trees for Life (look them up!). The female is wingless but sends out pheromones to bring the winged males to her to breed. It was also inspired by the Extinction Rebellion/ climate change protests which were happening at the same time, so dedicated to the marvellous Greta Thunberg.
May 2019 · 209
Bark
Isabel May 2019
I have been mainly taking photographs of bark this year
Ancient trees: I want to paint them
Trying to capture
The exo-spectrum of other-worldly colours
Beyond any I can name.
I want to draw the patterns
Crazed scribblings of a genius
Locked away for centuries
In a tower of their mind
Slowly interpreting messages from outer space-time
Instructions for inter-conscious travel
And the creation of new life forms.
In my pictures I want to convey
How if you lean up close
You can see the topography of other worlds
Or the nerve-web of the genius-lunatic's mind
But I just don't have the skill.

— The End —