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A response to The Urban Astronaut by @HighlySprung #bythesea16

We are choking off

Our air supply

Our freedom of…

Ripping up

Ripping out

Laying waste to even

The earth we walk on

Isolated from


Each other 

Can isolated effort be enough

If we each plant a seed

Tend to it

Protect it

From invasion 

Show others its importance 

To our health and happiness 

Dance to its beat 

And our own inner tune

Ignore government 

Telling us we’re British 

Not European

Take that giant leap

And shout

We’re humankind 

Kind humans 

Listening to

Living with 

Caring for

Each other

Our planet 

Urban astronauts 


Losing my marbled leaves (the environment of dementia)

Losing my marbled leaves
(the environment of dementia)

(Kirsty Stanley)

Another mottled, marbled leaf
detached, dropped and traced
its own vain veins in mud.

Mud squelches,
formed from leaves that fell before.
Mushy mud mind you.

Each tiny stem of the
booming, no
blooming, no
blossoming, no. Yes…blossoming
tree creates it.
Each lost leaf nurtures on, but,
there remains a leaf lost.

What causes the leaves to fall?
Age and time weaken the bough.
Ravage winds cause hidden splits,
once, landed a heavy bird,
a heavy load to bear.

Then sometimes it snaps;
Sudden and severe.
Silence in the forest,
as the tree is felled.

More often it floats away,
flying like the sycamore
on the breeze.
You see it fleeing toward
the horizon, watching it, knowing it
will disappear…

you can’t catch it
on the tip of your tongue.
Instead you poke it out and
down sinks a freezing, frosted
flake of snow that ices
the core.

The rings tell its age;
at 55 felled too soon.
It started with one
measly, mottled, marbled leaf.

This was previously shared in a more hidden way on this blog here.

Inspired to share this poem on the theme of Dementia after talking to @tommyNtour on Twitter.
Will be sharing this blog post of his with students tomorrow.
Also found out, again via Twitter (thanks @HISCfresno) about this film I’d like to see.

An iPad Illusion (poem)

An iPad Illusion


I walk around

my finger cocked,

does it have power

to paste my thoughts

on you?


(Just thought I’d share a little poem (or small stone) I wrote today. It’s a weird sensation copying and pasting on the iPad, I keep feeling like I am holding the words in my finger).

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