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ZERO - GRAZING, an article
by Tracy Patrick
NEW! Leaves of Poetry, A Book of Tree Poems selected and edited by Stacy Smith and Tracy Patrick. Please see: www.ShadowPoetry.com or www.earthlovepoetrymagazine.co.uk All royalties from Leaves of Poetry go directly to the Ancient Forest International.
Tracy Patrick is the editor of "Earth Love Magazine".
It is a beautiful idea of Tracy’s to
have a poetry magazine for the environment. Tracy is doing an enormous amount of
good, working very hard to produce her magazine at regular intervals and
donating money to so many good causes. She has my full support. And
that is why I am dedicating one part of my Salt Cross website to her. I shall be
publishing other Earth Love poems here in future years. I’ll be choosing
them from her magazines. Please do not send me your poems but continue to
send them to Tracy. Please give
Tracy has a beautiful website. www.earthlovepoetrymagazine.co.uk
Send poems with SAE to: Earth Love, P O Box 11219 Paisley PAI 2WH ith SAE to:
Earth Love, P O Box 11219 Paisley PAI 2WH O Box 11219 Paisley PAI
2WH
The copyright of all these poems remains with the Earth Love
poets. For permission to use them, please write to Tracy Patrick at the
above address or to me, Daphne Gulland at
saltcross@unitybox.de about my own poems. These poems may not be copied
anywhere without our permission.
Here are some of my poems and poems by the following poets which will appear here in the future.
Tracy Patrick Children Poets
Vivienne Romilly-Weightman Neal Wilgus
CIRCLE OF STONE by Daphne Gulland
I’m standing here in my
Circle of stone
For this here is my
Spiritual home.
The waves do splash
And whip against the cliffs.
The winds do howl
And roar and wail.
I’m standing here in my
Circle of stone
For this here is my spiritual home.
The gulls do fly
Across the sky.
The deer do fleet
From tree to tree.
Life goes on
And on and on.
Kings and queens do come and go
But I stay here in my
Circle of stone
For this here is my spiritual home.
RED DRAGON TIME by Daphne Gulland
I’ve got Celtic blood in my veins
Flowing like water foaming out of the earth
Surrounded by air that is everywhere
I sit here waiting beside Merlin’s grave.
I’ve got dragon’s blood in my veins
It’s red and strong and gushes along
I rise and dive and glide along
Till I arrive at Avalon.
I’ve got Merlin’s blood in my veins
It’s filled with love from the stars above
It’s full of power and hope
And I see the phoenix rising from the flames
Which tells me Mother Earth will be happy again..
LOVE IN THE AUTUMN by Daphne Gulland
Leaves and flowers
In heaps and bowers.
How we love to see their colours,
Turning from white to red and pink and lilac.
There is no end to their manifold beauty.
In the eyes of the sun and the beams of its light,
There are many wondrous works of art,
Hidden away under clouds and trees,
Just waiting for us to arrive and see.
Innocent eyes so bright and blue
Darker eyes like almonds too.
What wonders there are for us to behold.
We look back and remember the
Yearnings of our soul
And laugh and sigh and laugh once more
Our fingers gliding through the
Colours of love Floating on the wings of a dove.
A PAGAN LOVE SONG by Daphne Gulland
Flower my garden!
Hold back the swirl of passing time.
Let me lie in your welcome shade
And contemplate my future life
Surrounded by your beauty and serenity.
Flower my garden,
Garden of my life.
And the garden of my life replied:
“Dear Nature’s child, so sweet and mild,
I cannot make the time stand still,
That’s not God’s purpose or His will.
Dedicate your future years
To stamping out this Earth’s tears.
And when your life is through and done
You’ll come and join me in the rays of the sun,
Shining and smiling as my wife
Onto the garden of your life.
” Flower, flower, flower my garden,
Dearest garden of my life.
FLOWERS AND TREES by Daphne Gulland
Flowers, brought forth by
Mother Earth,
Miniature works of art
To gladden our hearts,
To fill us with wonder
And awe.
Trees of all
Shapes and sizes
Giving us their energy and love.
How bleak would our world be
Without a flower or a tree.
IWINGS by Tracy Patrick
You offered me a cup,
deep as a well.
I drank the full of it,
watched dreams
take flight from your
lips, the incense smell
of you, warm and sweet,
guiding me with
soft incantations.
The eyes need no
translation, but wait
for each word to offer
itself up like a prayer;
hearts speak their own
secret alphabet,
a language of ascending
wings, that leaves the
tongue wanting.
We place our hands,
book-like,
trace the lines
of our palms, the pages
where past and future
become one; and I think
of the shooting stars
that whisper their lights
into the darkness,
and are gone,
leaving the night
blessed with wishes.
The curtain of morning
is not yet lifted.
I clutch each falling star,
Like a delicate flower
to my chest
drink its heady scent
again and again…
NEST by Tracy Patrick
Each drowsy day
when you creaked open the hut door
I stood on tip-toe, a little bird,
craning my neck to the dusty eaves.
I no longer recall what other things
there were, wedged in musty spaces:
gloves, rubber-backed; dirt caked
trowels; a lawnmower – only the nest
glued delicately to the corner,
grey and ominous.
You lifted me shoulder high
and in that fragrant beam of light
I saw it blossom like a mache rose,
paper ribbons, fold upon fold,
whirlpooling at the mouth
where little banded bodies zipped
like spores. We were safe there
at the end of all our Augusts,
the wasps’ nest shimmering
lantern-wide above us
like summer and you,
forever at its small white heart.
THE WILD MEN OF THE FOREST by Pamela Harvey
Far East there lives a little man
Who people call “Orang Utan,”
As through the forest trees he climbs,
Like all his breed since ancient times,
He fears to see the open space
Where trees no longer keep their place,
For as he swings from branch to branch
He sees in emptiness no chance
To live, to find something to eat
When logging here will be complete.
The ape with coat of thick red hair
Can only look on in despair;
First Palm Oil, now it’s Biofuel
Have made their depredations cruel –
Where forests fall to desolation
Man cares not for the lost ape nation,
Nor do the workers shed their tears
Or care that twenty million years
Have passed since the Orang Utan
In jungle glades their breed began.
Oh, Humankind, you younger race
Who, one day, may be in your place
As threatened as the red-gold ape
By Climate Change beyond escape,
In pity see them clinging on
To life, to hope, till all is gone.
Some people heed to their despair,
And know that all of us will share
Their anguish, when the trees are felled
In every forest in the world.
Their habitats are being lost,
And commerce does not count the cost,
But one day in a world destroyed,
Where we are starving, unemployed –
Where melting ice is bringing flood
And cities wallow in the mud,
And Summer temperatures soar,
And lands once rich in turn grow poor,
Who’ll pity us, the race of Man,
Who wiped out the Orang Utan?
EARTH’S PLIGHT by Donna Salisbury
It’s time to save the planet,
Let’s help our Mother Earth.
After all she’s done the same for us,
And has done since her birth.
She has fed us,
And she has watered us,
Yet we don’t seem to care.
And if we are not careful,
One day she won’t be there.
It’s time we all stood together,
United in our goal.
Giving back to our planet,
Her tranquil, nurturing soul.
Donna writes: I am 29 years old and from the Rhondda Valleys in South Wales and have been writing all my life. I started writing seriously in early 2001 and have gone on to write many poems and articles, the vast majority of which have been published in a large variety of magazines and anthologies over the years, and now thanks to yourself on the web!!
I would have to say that Earth Love is one of my favourite charities because of the wonderful work they do through the funds raised by their brilliant magazine.
NEUTRALISING CARBON by Alan M Kent
When I am gone
I will be reincarnated as the oak.
When that is gone
I will evolve into a pebble.
When that is worn away
I will become the moor.
When that disappears
I will transform into the sand.
When that is washed away
I will change into gorse.
When that dies back
I will turn into a tor.
And when that erodes,
I will surf into the sea.
So when all is gone,
Some day, my land might remember me.
Alan M. Kent was born in St Austell, Cornwall in 1967 and lectures in Literature for the Open University in South-West Britain. His first collection of poetry appeared in 1994, and since then he has published poetry, prose, drama and criticism which have established him as one of the leading Cornish writers of his generation. In 1998 he won the Charles Lee Literary Competition, in 1999 a Euroscript Award and in 2006 was winner of the Cornish Gorsedd Poetry in English Competition. Druid Offsetting is his sixth collection of poems. Alan’s favourite charities are: Cornwall Wildlife Trust Cornwall Young Diabetics
THE WOOD WITHIN by Kathryn Logan
The wood
Reflects
More than my mood
The wood
Reveals to me
Metaphorically
Life’s higher purpose
My identity
Although I try
To defy destiny
I may yet learn to trust
The guiding hand
That brought me
To this wood
To show me that
ALL WOODS ARE ONE
To help me
Look again and see
The peace and beauty here
For all to share
Who live with love
Within the Sacred Grove
Kathryn Logan has retired from working in Education to her birthplace in Kintyre, on the west coast of Scotland. She and her husband have created a garden there, round their holiday cottage, over the last 15 years, in which they have now built a home for their retirement. Kathryn enjoys walking her dog, gardening, painting, writing and reading. Kathryn’s favourite charity is: Scottish Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (Scottish SPCA)
THE PRICE by Joy Saunders
When we used to meet in the village shop
Where we bought produce from the farmer’s crop,
We would chat and laugh, hear the local news
In this meeting place where we exchanged views
And would hear if somebody living nearby
Was in need of help that we could supply.
Those who had fruit trees always shared their crop
But the kindnesses never seemed to stop,
We would open doors with caution, aware
That so often someone left goodies there…
New laid eggs for breakfast, jam, (home-made)
But the price of progress has to be paid.
Now the village shop no longer exists
For we give our trade to monopolists.
Supermarkets lure with their well-stocked shelves
So we zoom in cars to choose for ourselves.
Oh, if only progress could be undone
For our village sleeps in the daytime sun;
Because life has changed to a different style
And we feel the loss we can’t reconcile
For we’re strangers now in a village that cared
And the damage done cannot be repaired.
In the field where once, grazed the farmer’s flock
There’s a group of housed built in a block.
With our focus gone we have lost the hub,
Passing strangers drink in the local pub,
And we work in towns for our revenue…
There’s no time or place for a rendezvous.
To have supermarkets we paid the price
For we gave our soul in a sacrifice!
Joy Saunders is well-known for her lyrical poetry in the small press where she has won many prizes through the years. She has published a number of poetry books, namely:- ‘Girl Talk,’ ‘More Girl Talk,’ ‘A Taste of Joy,’ ‘Still Waters,’ ‘Emotions Stirred’ and her latest book, ‘Steps,’ currently available. She has written poetry ever since she can remember. Her favourite poets are Samuel Taylor Coleridge, John Betjemen, William Wordsworth and Wendy Cope to name but a few. Her website is: www.joysaunders.co.uk
TREES by Jacqueline Kusters Brummans
I find no joy where trees don’t grow
and cast their shadow on the ground.
In forest and gardens,
on hill tops or glades,
trees give pleasure in every shape.
Tall, stubby, slender or short,
trees grow in different types and sort.
Some with flowers, nuts or fruit
or just leaves, that’s also good.
Trees in winter ominous and stark
may frighten people in the dark.
A tree in blossom dressed as bride,
overwhelms me with beauty,
when I walk outside.
Trees in spring with tender leaves,
trees of wonder, trees of peace.
Trees carved with a lover’s heart,
or mangrove where new life starts.
Fragile ones but mostly strong,
trees that give their whole life long.
Shade, oxygen, beauty and fruit,
we carve and build from wood.
Trees that nurture new born life,
or bend from snow, storm and ice.
That form a bridge we need to cross,
mark our grave when all is lost.
HILLS OF CHINA CLAY by Paul Tristram
I was born in the mountains
but have since moved away.
The closest thing where I now live
are the hills of china clay.
They are not remotely the same
they look so very cold and grey.
No fun to be had upon them
no trees to hide yourself away.
These hideous fake, man-made hills
look so unpleasant to the eye.
They only ever look interesting
when night falls from the sky.
Illuminous poison-looking green pools
can be seen around their base.
The unhealing scars of when they
churned up Mothernature’s face.
It saddens me to see this
it sickens me to the very bone.
It makes me think of my birthplace
where hills are made of earth and stone.
ZERO-GRAZING by Tracy Patrick
I have just finished reading material on the subject of factory farming, published by Animal Aid and Viva, and kindly forwarded to me by poet and Earth Love contributor, Pamela Harvey. Two words in this literature caught my attention: Zero-Grazing.
This is the latest concept in factory farming in the dairy industry, originating in the US and currently being implemented here, on UK soil. Soil, fresh air, dirt, sunshine and grass are the basic needs and right of every living creature, and are exactly what would be denied to the animals unfortunate enough to find themselves being ‘farmed’ in these massive commercial enterprises, where presumably the idea is to cut costs by eliminating the need for grazing and, therefore, for essential land. Some of the sites in the US hold 30,000 cattle that rarely, if ever, go outside. Currently, there are plans to build the UK’s largest ever pig farm, near Foston in South Derbyshire. It will ‘house’ 26,000 pigs indoors, with 2,500 of these being sows who are permanently incarcerated, for their young to be taken away at birth. Ironically, the ‘farm’ will be next to a women’s prison. The company responsible, Midland Pig Producers, has stated explicitly that within the next 10 years, there will be no animals left outside in the British countryside. This attitude seems representative of the dairy industry as a whole, with zero-grazing quickly becoming a commercialised term. However, with well-balanced, intelligent and responsible campaigning, it is possible for the public to intervene.
Recently, the plans for a zero-grazing unit outside South Witham in Lincolnshire were withdrawn after a campaign convinced the land-owner to withdraw his permission to the developers.
Furthermore, in Foston, the council postponed plans for a mammoth pig farm after receiving objections from over 1,800 people. In Nocton, Lincolnshire, plans for an 8,100 zero-grazing unit were overturned.
However, the developers are preparing for a comeback, and will surface again, around the country, wherever the opportunity arises.
If you would like to add your voice to the campaign against zero-grazing units, please write to your local MP, and / or contact the RSPCA - Wilberforce Way, Southwater, Horsham, West Sussex, RH13 9RS. Tel: 0300 123 0100 www.rspca.org.uk or VIVA – 8 York Court, Wilder Street, Bristol, BS2 8QH. Tel: 0117 944 1000. www.viva.org.uk
Other charities may also be able to help such as: Compassion in World Farming, Animal Aid and Friends of the Earth. Details are available on the charities page of the Earth Love website. See: www.earthlovepoetrymagazine.co.uk
COUNTRY LIFE?
DOWN ON THE FACTORY FARM by Pamela Harvey
Grassy meadows call to us,
Fresh and green and free,
Where soft winds of Summer blow,
That’s where we would be.
Not this place, the factory
Where we cannot roam.
Out there is the open air,
That is our real Home.
Many farmers understand,
Sympathise with us.
But though they may own their land,
Shallow is their purse.
Overwhelmed they may become
the giants of cash
Whose power swallows everything,
Businesses are smashed.
People, hear our urgent cry –
We, too, need to live.
Hear the meadow grasses sigh,
They cannot forgive.
Those whose greed puts animals
Last in line of care.
We need life – and comfort sure,
In this world we share.
Pamela Harvey writes: There are at least two mega-factory farms proposed, and perhaps started, in Lincolnshire, and there is one in Devon. This practice on a large scale is envisaged for Britain by some company with cash but without sympathy. Already cattle live short lives, some very short. Needless to say, what they require is human sympathy and assistance to live healthy, safe and relatively happy lives in as natural a way as possible to those who are raised for milk and meat.