Fire horse

 

Here's one to celebrate the Chinese year of the fire horse which begins this week. The poem has been around for a good while, but seems appropriate to share it now.

Fire horse

Outside,

a spark jumps,

a thread catches the arc,

flame grows, drops, disappears.

Hold your breath.

Wait.

 

A thin smoke-strand weaves upward,

orange tongue rises,

tastes air;

fire takes hold.

 

Flares erupt  –

angry, flaming breath

ignites the notion 

and

 

a blazing stallion breaks away

across the plain,

eyes flashing, hooves crashing in sparks,

fire trailing from his mane.

 

No surprise there

 

You think nothing surprises you

anymore      and then   

                   a hellebore opens

 

or a frog pops up     in the pond     or

                a robin hops    to     your   hand     or

     Netanyahu      bans aid agencies     from

Gaza         and            the West Bank

where people   survive      only just   

             in floods     debris     tents

 There are moments      when   you    are   so

                               surprised

         you can’t find any           words

    or not yet  ….

 

Pic: SkyNews

 

 https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/articles/c1evp7weyv2o

https://www.theguardian.com/world/2025/dec/31/israeli-ban-on-aid-agencies-gaza-catastrophic-consequences

https://news.sky.com/story/israel-suspends-37-aid-organisations-from-operating-in-gaza-13488815

 

 

Haworth Moor

 

Haworth Moor

  

Up there on the way to the bleak moor

I can breathe in the heart of the land

and I can see the ruins of the house

 

on the bulk of the hill’s shoulder,

way ahead, way up.

And the house is the goal, but the game is the moor,

 

heather and ling, and fresh north wind,

sphagnum moss and peat bogs.

And it’s cold, but it’s open country like my heart

 

and I can feel clear air in my body

and I can hear her voice

on the wind as it swirls around

 

and calls me up and further up.

Nothing in sight but stone walls following

contours and lone trees spaced along a ridge

 

and I can see the old house

far away, nearly at the top,

and a couple of bent trees to the side

 

… and that voice again, calling;

and the raven too

and I breathe hard as I climb

 

the steep side from the bridge.

And when I reach the house

its tumbledown walls and blank windows

 

look out over the moors and back down to the stream.

I am miles from home

and I can go anywhere from here, be anyone.

 

There is nothing to hold me,

and there is everything. 

Voices that be gone

 Voices that be gone

(after William Barnes)

 

One robin atop red-berried hawthorn

sings farewell to late summer

 

each time I go out into the garden.

Save for him the place is dumb

 

summer birds silent now

no blackbirds or sparrow chatter, no finches or wren.

 

Sometimes a magpie cackles

or a passing gull calls from a distance

 

a skein of geese hoots

through the valley on their way to somewhere else

 

a straggling swallow turns and dives

before it flicks away on the next rise. 

 

A jet fighter sears the air

filling all our space with its roar.

 

We are all silenced. Even the robin.

 

*Lincocut image by Karen Little @kazvina. First published with my poem 'Sparrows' in the anthology 'How Quickly it all Passes', 2024

From west Wales to the West Bank

Palestinian teacher Awdah Hathaleen who contributed to the Oscar-winning documentary 'No Other Land' (2024), was murdered today (July 29th, 2025) during an attack by Israeli settlers in the south Hebron hills.

This short poem was inspired by that film and particularly by Awdah's bravery. Our poems won't stop the horror, and every killing is a tragedy, but it feels this is the moment to share a few words

From my back door to the West Bank

while I walk down to harvest salad leaves

spinach and spring onions

I pass the rambling roses with 1,000 buds

that promise summer scent,

and I eye the red of ripening strawberries.

 

While not so far away

centuries old olive trees are bulldozed,

women wail by their wrecked houses

and men weep over the bleeding bodies

of their brothers

 

and the promise of roses

becomes thorns in my eyes.

 

No Other Land, trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hWlx4J8coxU