Earth: The Movie

Lilly of the valley ring out all along the river bank as the daffodils nod their heads like jaded heavy metal fans to a new beat but young tree branches sway back and forth like teenagers at their first gig. The sun shines and paints the sky in a blue of 50 shades and clouds gather like sheep in the fields. River waters run past hearing stories and songs from the birds to bees as it goes by but never stop long enough for the endings. Generation after generation this is the way the movie went, well until now that is.

Ragged men and plastic women walk on by oblivious to the songs and stories around them. For theirs are not those of their ancestors but ones repeated from words and pictures seen and heard on black boxes; as false as a rabbit laying chocolate eggs and lies spinning in quicksand. As young cyborgs cling to handheld blocks with screens to create their own tales and music that are just as false and fake as those from the black boxes. Creating new worlds but do not know the script of fate is already written.

How long until the songs of nature are replaced forever with auto tuned cover versions by the cyborgs and will anyone notice in a decade or more? Pictures of their ancestors are mere images stored in clouds in cyberspace but nobody dares look at the sky’s clouds as chemicals fell poisoned many. Stories that nobody alive now remembers how as it was before, rewritten and spun so many times now so are accepted as truths and history of this planet but not the one many fought and died to try to preserve for them.

The world is always changing as the Earth spins on its axis with few prepared to pole dance at the north or south. Human song is a symphony by a group of composers but not the only one on the planet. cats and dogs, flowers and forests, sing too, just listen. There are stories written down by the birds and bees to the trees and mountains engraved in an ink that is not invisible. Humans stop trying to direct and act this movie, it’s not the role for us, grab the popcorn and enjoy the journey to the fullest.

© Fi S. J. Brown

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The Oolong Poem

With every passing day
The spring sunshine
Is singing longer

On each blade of grass
A dozen bells ring
Awakening the sleeping

The voices of the birds
Are getting louder
Rejoicing winter is over

New lambs are born
Coming with hope
Everything will be okay

Along the twisted path
Passing mountains tall
Pink blossom confetti guides

Down in the village
Travellers are coming
But go as the wind changes

From my window sill
Flowers have returned
Friends old and new

With a pencil I write
Trusty tea at my side
Pondering life is beautiful

© Fi S. J. Brown
*Every time I drink oolong tea I feel relaxed and inspired to write poetry inspired by Southeast Asia.

 

Spring Song

Spring’s song begins today in the northern hemisphere with snowdrops ringing to wake all sleeping from their winter’s sleep. The croci playing bass, giving a rhythmic and harmonic foundation to the world. With the melody sung by the newborn wildlife throughout the land, reverberating through hills and valleys, and the trees and bushes their backing singers resplendent in their new season green clothes.
 
Every year this song can be heard but how few of us stop to see, hear and feel it? Mother Nature displaced as the leading lady, as we humans do our cover version. We insult her further by autotuning our voices as cannot sing in her unique style, colour or pitch. With footprints stamping across the world like a booming hip hop beat. Forming chorus lines full of grey, filled with drills and bombs tainted with fear, jealousy and hate.
 
© Fi S. J. Brown

The Springtime Opera

After being awoken by a kiss from a Prince Charming of bumble bees, the cherry blossom blooms in pink and white across the land. Singing their duet that in turn wakes up the northern world to spring, from the first act of the grand opera that is nature’s own ring cycle. Climaxing as it falls like a spring snow onto both pavements and roads. Each white petal glides slowly down as though a majestic swan, and each pink petal as though it were confetti from a wedding.  Like tears, they are swept into gutters, and their relationship is over…well at least for a few months. Thus the curtain falls and ends act one.

Act two opens with the lambs’ chorus, to which they dance around the fields among the daffodils. The lambs are like children and their white coats mark their innocence, as spring’s story is one celebrating birth and new life. The daffodils along with the tulips and bluebells when touched by the wind sing and dance their songs. Not forgetting the biggest diva of Planet Earth has to sing her aria, such is the human way, thinking their own song is the most important element of them all. Finally, the days gradually get lighter at night, these are the notes of nature’s songs getting longer till act two ends.

© Fi S. J. Brown

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