Been wanting to write this poem (or a version of it) ever since hearing the term. Thankfully, once I started, it was surprisingly easy. Images taken from a range of astronauts who have spoken on the subject.It’s not the poem I thought I was going to write so I might have another crack at it one day.
*****
the overview effect
when looked at with an astronaut’s eye the earth is not so very big
from a mere 250 miles up exactly the distance between Athens to Istanbul
the sky that once went on forever is actually as thin as a piece of paper
nature is everything clouds, mountains, forests deserts, oceans, so much ocean
rivers like necklaces of pearls & she glows day, night, sunrise, sunset, glowing in every colour
not all of man’s might can be seen but too much can — erosion, degradation, wounds, sprawling cities, oil slicks, scars
she disregards borders for the foolish political fictions she renders conflict ridiculous
not that the blue marble is big she’s frighteningly mind-bogglingly small so so so very small against
Shakespeare’s birthday/deathday. Each year I try to write something Bill-affiliated. This can be made harder by having a theme superimposed over the top of it (ie, like pandemics or climate change) but at least it forces me to think outside a few boxes for some green inspiration. Which is always a good thing. Need to apologise in advance for the long pome, I didn’t have the time to write a short poem.
If only poets had the power that multinational corporations have to effect change in the world.
*****
Bill S & his posse of Nature Poets
Bill being a country boy born & bred was a big lover of nature dropping dozens of wildflowers animals, trees, natural events 63 birds, & more into his plays ; with whimsical abandon he set them in forests, on coasts, on rugged heaths — if he were writing today climate change would be his bent
so too Bill Blake’s rage against dark Satanic Mills which were pumping his pristine English skies full of black soot & were, after all, the beginning of man-made climate change
the posse is being assembled
Lawrence & his dark forest soul would definitely be there … with his animalistic magic of snakes & bats & pansies
a third Bill, Wordsworth knew nature was divine & believed true happiness was achieved when existing in harmony with it, always happy to wax lyrical about daffodils, clouds, & Tintern Abbey
youthful firebrand Keats loved nature’s vibrant scents & colours & cool calming water a man who happily sang odes to Nightingales, Autumn, & the Sea would get in on this action
although somewhat simpler in scope another John (Clare) less complex & less well known marvellously describes the natural world & rural life in affectionate vignettes of Winter Evening, Wood Pictures in Summer, & the Little Trotty Wagtail
Emerson’s belief that we understand truth only by studying the song of nature & Humblebees & Snow Storms
& Shelley’s awareness she destroys as well as creates; singing odes to the West Wind, Skylarks & Mont Blanc
& Dickinson finding awe in everything Light Existing In Spring Birds coming down the Walk
& Frost whose name suggests he should be though not a pure nature poet loved Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
many modern poets too are in the posse
the marvellous Mary Oliver who instills poems with wonder-filled images drawn from daily walks near her home Wild Geese & Journeys on Summer Days
& Gary Snyder an activist who speaks with an ancient voice but modern tongue of fertile soil, animal magic, the power of solitude, rebirth; the love & ecstasy of the dance & Mountains and Rivers Without End
but as wonderful as all these nature loving poets are what we really need is for everyone to remember they too are poets, alive in this bleak eternal universe only because our home is a delicately crafted paean to life
Running late. Not content with it, but need to publish something.
all the invisibles
for a few translucent moments
every evening just as the sun
softly feathers down behind
the hills; ……………..& throws rusty angles
over the dog yard’s corrugated
roof; ………in those moments as our star
flutters ever lower, frail formerly
unseen spiderwebs illuminate
golden, tying the cyclone mesh
together more tenderly than wire;
slightly higher up, eucalypt leaves
thread together in molten lattices;
& beyond that, half way to the sky
it playfully irradiates dozens
of previously transparent tiny
bugs suddenly bringing them
all to unexpected life; …………..…………….…….………a reminder
if needed of how much we’re always
surrounded by the invisible
This weekend (& this date in particular) is always difficult & painful & poignant & ugly. So too was most of what I wrote today. I have attached the least bleak piece, regardless of its merits. In a slight deviation from practise, I’m also using the picture that inspired the poem as the choice for today’s NaPoWriMo blog pome. I frequently write (first drafts at least) from artworks, but when I do I prefer not to share the image for fear of overload; that both pieces will fight each other by saying too similar a thing, but I don’t have the energy to find something more abstract tonight.
wyndhame
somewhere cerebellum deep : everyone : wants : their own : fantasy castle : storybook sentence : painting lifted : from the pages of childhood : rooves of saltwater green : gold stone isolation : glinting : beautiful exile : at the end of the sea : the edge of the world : but few : are brave enough : to truly live there : among cloud fragments : erosion : bewildered fish : suddenly plummeting : & the perpetual fear of falling
Now that Easter is out of the way, I can return to the worklist. While having an outlet for exploring one’s grief is healing; it is very liberating to have other topics to dive into.
*****
what’ve you been doing with yourself…
… i find i’m often being asked
how to answer without offending
i read i write i think i live
walk the dog avoid paying bills
eat bad food drink better wine
daydream am as happy as i can be
if i was smarter & could think deeper
thoughts i might be a philosopher
(despite being equally poorly paid)
lose myself thinking about simple things
the stars light time bees mist
rain loss loneliness the nature
of goodness paths taken & not
being buzzed storms souls if angels
exist & if they do what they do
& why whether justice can ever
come if everything just is the passing
of the small utopias dystopias ways
of killing the rich … to feed the poor
*****
NB without wishing to sound too much like a first world whinger, I look forward to getting back to the city with fast non-satellite broadband & a non-old computer that doesn’t freeze &/or crash 4 times in the last 45 minutes.
gareth roi poet boi 