Waiting for the rain under a dark brooding sky,
ground already sodden but eager for more.
Crops that were wilting, desperate for water
now lay on the soft ground, ready to rot.
For all that water falling from the clouds
yet more hangs in the air to be carried to other lands.
Year after year deserts become dryer, expanding.
Wetlands become rarer or destroyed totally.
Water falls from the heavy clouds in deluges,
washing away all before it, scouring the land.
Coastlines fall into the sea as tides reach ever higher.
Defenceless beaches washed away in days,
leaving behind fresh scars in the exposed land.
And on it goes, we heat the air, it holds more moisture
to fall more heavily on unprepared lands.
Building on floodplains, then damming the rivers,
expecting them to cope with more volume,
surprised when our homes are flooded!
As a species will we never learn?

©2012 Trevor Litchfield


The Storm Outside

Attempting to find sleep in the early morning hours as the storm rages outside.
Watching the performers in my life struggle to find their perfect part.
Learning their lines but seemingly always missing their cue,
berating themselves yet not understanding my tranquillity as I watch,
thinking they have upset the balance, when in fact the play is perfect.

Rain lashes itself against the windows, rivulets running down the pains.
Tears of life falling yet strangely, I am unmoved by their flow.
I sit composedly in the middle of the floor, absolving all around me,
Calm in the middle of the storm on this early morning vigil,
attempting to make sense of the imposed wreckage outside.

The life I now lead is one of my choosing, I choose not to incriminate.
I am not looking for the storm to subside, it will exhaust itself
and I will remain seated on the floor in self absorbed satisfaction,
in the knowledge that the performers will learn to live with imperfection
as nature performs her imperfect dance outside the window.

The storm rages on as rain and wind lash the walls outside.
Calmness within the walls reflect how I see the storm,
it will blow over as all storms must, leaving behind broken branches,
but not a broken heart, not this one at least.
All the performers are important to me, they could never fail me.

There is no competition, each has won their own award,
a place in my heart that will remain forever theirs.
So let the storm subside. Let it pass us by.
Windswept and dishevelled, we can brush ourselves down and start anew.
We must all remain in the play as surely as the wind is part of the storm.

©2012 Trevor Litchfield

Dark Sky

Inspired by Bluebell Books: Thursday Short Story Slam 3

Gone are the hot days of summer,
dark clouds loom in the distance,
promising the first rains of Autumn,
bringing relief to parched earth.

Boughs sway in the autumnal breeze,
golden leaves flit in the gusting winds,
building piles of dead foliage below,
the foreboding darkness of the sky.

Single droplets hit the ground
exploding on impact with the baked soil,
leaves caught in mid flight
barraged by the falling water.

This is no spring shower
as the machine gunned water
falls from the heavy clouded sky,
gravity working it’s inevitable magic.

Pools soon form as the water falls
on the hard baked thirsty earth,
forming small rivulets as the pools fill,
racing down the sunbaked hillsides.

All to soon these rivulets are clogged
with leaves and twigs brought down
by the deluge, forming small dams,
water drives on, tumbling over all.

Mother earth reigns supreme,
her natural rhythm replacing the lost,
Filling up rivers, lakes and aquifers,
to allow the new growth on Springs arrival.

©2011 Trevor Litchfield

To Be By The sea

By the sea

By the sea (image by yours truly)

To be by the sea
when the sun is warm
and the breeze is light.
Soaking up the day as my
mind is washed clean by the
sound of the waves hitting the shore.

To be by the sea
when the tide is angry
and the wind is fierce.
Soaking up the spray as my
mind is washed clean by the
feel of the water on my face.

To be by the sea
at the dead of night
and the wind is fair.
Soaking up the darkness as my
mind is washed clean by the
steady heartbeat of the tide.

To be by the sea
is a place I long to be
with you at any time of day.
Soaking up your aura as my
mind is filled with your voice
and the tide keeps time on life.

text & image©2011 Trevor Litchfield

The System’s Bust: Climate Change

Over the coming days I’ll be composing something in support of Oxfam’s four big factors, Climate Change, Land Grabs, Food Price Hikes and Intensive Farming.

To read all about the Oxfam Campaign, The Systems Bust, visit OxfamGB

The System's Bust

Click to visit Oxfam website

Climate Change

Seasons change,
as they always have.
Something is wrong,
the seasons don’t match
their previous paths
Dry when it should be wet.
Wet when it should be dry.
Floods wash away crops.
Drought kills crops.
Winds wreck crops.
Food that should feed,
dies as the farmer watches.
Families suffer.
Children starve.
Livestock falters,
Children die!
We may not be able to alter
the damage we have done.
Let’s feed those that suffer,
because of our avarice.
They did not cause this nightmare,
they are paying the consequences.
It’s time to think differently,
The System’s Bust!

©2011 Trevor Litchfield


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