Literary Vegan

I don't like the cold, But I love decoration -  The forest dressed  In diamonds, Inviting everyone to  The ballroom, To marvel at  The white drapes, The fashion of the season. The trees swish their Borrowed gowns -  They like to be the  Centre of attention To those who admire them In any outfit. Copyright LJ 2021.

I am not afraid To walk through the woods With a red hood And a cape I met the wolves That ran through My brain Once upon a time And the forest ones Never scared me  Again. Copyright LJ 2021. 

I don't like loud noises And neither do little birds When they alight,  I approach Slowly -  Even crisp leaves can ruin careful steps When entering the presence of a small soul  Sometimes I must stand still for a long time  Human peace is the open door to nature. I can only write poetry in complete silence. A pause -  One second to learn trust and new colours, One more to answer curious eyes - Then, hurried scratches through earth, shouts and sharp barks behind me Cut through my moment -  My quiet one It flies away. I exhale As the branch shakes In unsettled air. Copyright LJ 2021.

What parts of paradise Are you missing, Looking at the pavements Or just straight ahead? On your left is a water rat swimming By the bank - Mice in water Seem incongruous Yet there he goes! And yes the trees have no leaves But all the better For the bold robin Who landed right beside you. I can barely walk, On the greyest of days, For all the faces that Stop me - And remind me of The way the world was, Once.   Copyright LJ 2021.

A woman you destroy, for a woman you need In your quest for heresy, You look for the Queen By pulling each bone out of me My body screams But I will not say her name. You test me with torture, though already condemned For speaking of scriptures On the streets and with friends But I believe these words will live Long after I am dead And I will not say her name. Copyright LJ 2021. (Anne Askew was a 16th Century Protestant Martyr who was friends with Queen Catherine Parr.)

I am trying to write some Pretty or profound thing When the cat paws at my pen. I give it to him to play with. He is happy when he knocks it over, Pushes it with curiosity on the carpet. It is then I realise That this pause on the page,  The action that stopped my writing, Is the pretty and profound moment I want to write about. Copyright LJ 2021

My wings are iridescent. They sail by reflecting the sky. Not everyone likes this. I have been caught many times - Someone stood on my wings As if that new height Would make them fly and glow, While I was crawling. The cruel ones do not know That you cannot soar, cannot shine  By holding any form of light down. I leave them wondering why. Even in the dark, My wings resemble the stars That cannot be grounded. So I fly. Copyright LJ 2021