God is a touch-screen too.


He kills,

While we are touching everything else,
Touch-screens everywhere,

Apparently God kills,

In Catholic Garb,
In Coptic yellow, in
Jewish robes,

God kills surreptitiously,

At sunset,
On bridges, through

Garrulous Muslims,

It is a mistake to believe that the only touch-screen around,
Is email.

God is a touch-screen.

We do not remember friends, we
Remember enemies,

We do not remember being appreciated, we
Remember being insulted,

Our thoughts on the environment create the environment yet our thought,
Is momentarily polluted,

We want intelligent whales and emotional elephants then kill,

We poison each other and blame it on God, where
God is not the problem, we

Instead believe the sycophant.


♦picture♦ Brian Snyder, Reuters

-evocative short poetry-





Published in: on September 14, 2015 at 18:46  Leave a Comment  
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Nipponia nippon

Nipponia Nippon2

Grown men cry saving birds in nests perched high,
Teeter on long bamboo poles,

Fighting snakes,
and extinction,

Cry in despair when a chick dies,

Cry in joy,
When two,

Shake tremulous crowns, childhood plumes,
So tenuous,

Parents squacking overhead in the damp,
Damp valley,

Valley so high on the dull,
Dull mountain,

Afraid of the snake that comes at dawn,
Through the leaves,

In the tall, green forest,

Tall trees, Nipponia nippon, and
Men up the tree,


No thought for slackline or failure,
-the snake almost had them the last time –

Grown men cry,
Cry saving birds,

Cry heavy, heaving sighs, cry,

♦picture♦The IUCN list of endangered species

-evocative short poetry-

Published in: on August 29, 2015 at 23:27  Comments (3)  
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We garden together, He and I,
Uprooting rocks, chiseling Fuchsia,

Argue a lot, and;

Framing roses in gold, morning light or,
Flaming red sunset,

Helps cool raging fires.

Birds join us when we are not too loud,
Sipping iridescent water from clay pots,

Serenading nectar onto rhamphothecae;

We squash fat slugs accidentally,
And bitterness.

pictureKevin Truong @TheGayMenProject

-evocative short poetry-

Published in: on August 27, 2015 at 22:18  Comments (3)  
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Smorgasbord, and so

A dashboard of delights.

Supine could be;
Relaxed on a hospital bed,

Goose down,
Luxurious but bad for your back,


Sometimes current but initially,

A sister healed,
A discussion beyond Mum,

Silver hair framing,
Ice-blue eyes,

Wrinkles round a mouth;

Ripe fruit is determined by smell, and
A mango,

Will flood a kitchen with colour.

Who are you now,
Riding on the upper deck to Luton with,

The Book in your lap and,
The Wind in your hair?

Why are you a mango,
Ripe to eat?

When love is alive, or

Aroma disperses into cupboards, is
Dispensed across sofas, and

Out walking I thought,
A million dollars can change everything.

– have your wings clipped but clip them yourself,
spoof your location, so health.

Angels are born everyday.

♦picture♦ – Eartha Kitt, Wikipedia

evocative short poetry – words move

Published in: on August 27, 2015 at 01:09  Leave a Comment  
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Pillow talk

short poetry words move ozan kose turkish wrestlers

Quantum physics dictates that
Looked at directly matter will disappear.

Big physics says that electrons can be bound,
Entangled, still

Unified theory does not allow multiple existences.

These are matters of the heart;
Sometimes looking at love directly can destroy it,

And we don’t want lovers disappearing,
To burnt, brawny, Ulaanbaatar without us, we

Want them flourishing and,
No matter how ribald, how

Cherished they are, at times a
Gaze averted can fertilize love,

Parry an argument,
Can better the road ahead.

Dew off fingertips,
Off eyelashes,


May glisten brightest,
When not looked at directly.

Not everyone is free.

Picture – OZAN KOSECGettyImages

-short evocative poetry-

Published in: on August 25, 2015 at 09:24  Leave a Comment  
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Aliens have been vanquished before.


Orchids all,

Cannot look after Earth,

May have seen the end coming, not
Had the means to pollinate,

Thought life,
Conscious, must

Be responsible,
For life, have

Missed the archer,
Choosing the trajectory,

Been the arrow,

Forgetting that food

Are best when,


Orchids all,
Are cared for, reefs

Unable to do so,
Visible from space like,

Large Scale structures of the Universe and,

Remembering just in time to,
Be the ones that save.

The asteroid went unnoticed.

-short evocative poetry-

Picture – Large Scale structure of the Universe; Andrew Pontzen and Fabio Governato

Published in: on August 24, 2015 at 07:28  Leave a Comment  
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They will stone you in God’s name

short poetry, politics, religion, government

It’s a revolt.
A revolution.

And in the name of God, they are building schools,
Delivering doctors, door to door.

They are conveying the message that people care,
And that no one is forgotten but,

Cameras are not allowed in some places.

People hoist burning American Flags which melt and spit plastic,
Scarring children with big brown eyes and,

Women will not talk about this;
Allah is a man in uniform.

-evocative short poetry-

♦picture – Radu Sigheti for REUTERS♦

Published in: on August 22, 2015 at 14:00  Comments (11)  
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The sound of an African funeral


They sing for him,
Swinging from heel to frail heel,

Growing earth between the ground and,
his casket,

Bleeding love into the air
Like orchids,


They rise again
And again their gently swaying busts,

Move the air to and fro,
To and fro,

Intending that mother be comforted,

Intending that her wet eyes,
Smile at new wives, that

though her son was gunned down, the
Rhythm of the occasion,

Brings life.

-short evocative poetry-

Published in: on August 15, 2015 at 20:22  Leave a Comment  
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Walking with butterflies


She shifts with the breeze,
Neon white with blue streaks,

Antenna filtering the air for blossoms,

Owning the street,
Owning the couple,

At sunset before,
The African roundabout,

A butterfly that will not let go,
Wafting beyond reach,

Before the hawk and
Gently anyway –

Ever been a glass-wearer looking for your glasses with,
Your glasses on to begin with?

– evocative short poetry –

Published in: on August 14, 2015 at 19:33  Leave a Comment  
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guru, meditation, india

Tie the thread to the farmer!
Marry the Bride to the Groom!
Arrange a wedding for five billion people,

We are approaching the end!

Road rage is the immediate,
And sudden reconfiguration of,
A prior expectation and we are doing well,

The old lady, the Guru and I,
We are making effort.

It is,
In this moment,
A crisis which kills on the streets of America, and

People are cruel.

Just off the ashen pavement, obsidian in the dark,
A boy is playing PlayStation, so –

Kurukshetra! Ping,
Lakshmi! Ping,
Mohammed! Buddha! Ping, ping.

The lady looks hypnotised,
I am cold,
And people are cruel.

They have left the Guru here and gone to bed,
Can you imagine that?

♦Picture♦ PJ Kaiser

– evocative, short poetry –
Published in: on August 13, 2015 at 15:51  Leave a Comment  
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The Courtyard

short poery, war, death, dog togs, young soldiers, experience

The courtyard is alive with the spit of angry bullets,
And baked hard by the scorching sun.

Clouds of smoke drift in,
In patches,

And are,
Collected by moans,

That become tiny whirlwinds,
Which suck on the dog tags on dead men’s chests.

See – Why we fight, Soldier
photo – 67pics.com

evocative short poetry – words move

I will come


“…and, I will come amongst you,
Cloaked in the rags of the sinner;

Thus shall ye all be judged.”

Painting: Vincent-Patricia Watwood

-evocative short poetry-

Published in: on July 26, 2015 at 12:55  Leave a Comment  
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