all emotions like a snowball,

compacted into one...

then as the ball was released…

it felt as if someone ripped open this chest - reached withint

taring out this heart of mine-

for 12,158 hours this heart has been dangled,

still beating,

but

not in this body-

No longer pumping life force,

leaving this body now just a relic…

a testament of the price paid for love ~

When it’s gone...

Bob the Green Druid /|\

This poem was inspired by Audre Lorde’s poem Change of Season and was written at Alix’s writing circle.

I’m here, I’ve not traversed any

distance at all,

I’m here, those same feelings,

they live with me.

When I rest, I look behind -

how far have I travelled that day?

what have I left behind?

and then a voice, slightly out of breath…

I can hear it gasping as it says… ‘caught you up, I’m here’.

Each day walking forward, realising

I can’t go back, I couldn’t even if I tried,

I can’t leave grief behind either,

it’s a companion that will be forever with me

shaping each new day, influencing what I will see,

what I’ll feel,

what will be,

but rather than its weight weighing me down,

it’s no longer a separate companion…

It’s become part of me.

It’s not robbed me, that’s not what I’m trying to say,

it’s not crippled me - though at times that’s how it was feeling,

No, it’s different!

when I look at the distance around me…

How far I’ve travelled - it’s shaping how I see the world... No longer like wings as in The Handmaid’s Tale,

it now informs me,

reminds me… of the jewels I’ve collected…

as I look forward into the distance of a new day….

Bob the Green Druid /|\ 🕯️ 🍃

23rd August 2026

This poem was inspired by the Plant Your Poetry daily poem prompt word - distance. I’m not sure if this is required, but in Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale the women are made to wear a form of veil referred to as wings to restrict what they can see.

birth and renewal,

embodied in a life,

so small,

so gentle,

Kraftwerks song ~ Neon lights

darting in the air,

when day is so gentle.

neon lights,

shimmering lights,

goes the song

goes the life form

goes the soul,

neon lights darting

searching for…

looking for a grounding

somewhere to land…

somewhere to call home.

musical notes - played allegro,

flashes in the ether,

metaphors for lives - living,

then parting,

souls glimpsed for only seconds,

as they become memories,

dragonflies or loved ones,

Gone in a flash.

Bob the Green Druid /|\ 🕯️ 🍃

21st August 2026

This poem was inspired by the Plant Your Poetry daily poem prompt word - dragonfly

Thanks to Kraftwerk for the first two lines in the second verse and the title. From their album Time Machine

Standing - silently waiting

as if turned into nature's wonders,

along this route,

trodden by many, over the centuries.

Guardians now

-once lovers,

eloping from pre-enclosure mores,

what was to be their futures?

Now, each spring bedecked in their wedding day finery,

witnessing a landscape

-rapidly disappearing.

Ravaged by pollution,

industrial and social,

little progress made, as they stand watching.

Just waiting for mankinds next whimsy,

they thought they were escaping to a future,

sentenced to lifetimes of tears, the reality.

Standing together, trees holding hands,

not daring to think of tomorrow,

each autumn, a sob, a shedding,

their route returning once more to carrying coffins,

for the moment remaining as trees holding hands.

Bob the Green Druid /|\ 🕯️🍃

6th August 2026

This poem was inspired by the prompt by CoraLynn - Trees Holding Hands

As the lands burn,

vegetation,

trees,

mammals,

Insects

all turn to ashes

As the lands burn.

We all have collective responsibility,

a role within the lands annihilation,

listening carefully you can hear Mother Gaia sighing,

as many turn off their televisions-saying it’s just too much

As the lands burn

Is it annihilation, or could it be recleansing?

ridding the land of the history of injustices - colonialism, racism, sexism, class destruction,

a taking with no reciprocity,

a raping of the earth itself

As the Lands burn

On the eve of Lughnasadh, could this be Gaia rebirthing, reforming, Reclaiming

as the lands burn during July could this be Lugh forgoing this year’s harvest -

a society where nature has reasserted her dominant place

As the Lands rebalance throughout August.

Bob the Green Druid /|\ 🕯️ 🍃

Blessings on Lughnasadh eve

This poem was inspired by the prompt August Ashes, throughout this year I have been trying to understand the grief that I’m now experiencing. Grief is what comes through something that matters in itself grief we can either allow us to consume us or it can be a call to action. I hope this is reflected in my poem.

linking conurbations once of industry-now of memory

play locations for fishing people dog walkers, joggers and would-be bargees

some providing breathing spaces in an otherwise choking world

others, they themselves so toxic- evidence of man’s complete success in crippling this land

sail along, see how far you can travel-a thermometer indicating man’s ability to survive into the future

as the mercury rises

Bob the Green Druid /|\ 🕯️🍃

25th July 2026

This poem was inspired by the Plant Your Poetry daily poem prompt word-canal

and there ahead,

first the trees and greenery,

a silvery disc,

planted, as if a mirror image of the full moon.

Temperature different, atmosphere definitely warmer,

by a jetty

adjoining, there

ahead an upturned blue boat.

Well once blue, now just sun bleached remnants of its former glory.

Sitting, with backs leaning against it,

stories of Ransome’s Swallows and Amazons relived. As if

the boat herself was remembering.

This place once a hub of mystery, now neglected…

just waiting for a stone to skim the surface,

permission to open its memory.

We wondered, when last it sailed?

as if the pool and boat were connected,

the pool's surface began to shiver… crying… hurting in the act of recalling.

Both intrinsically linked in a former period, now just waiting,

hoping

one day for the children to return,

make this once more their Wild cat camp and set sail to Peel island.

Was this just our fancy?

as we prepared to continue our exploration,

the surface no longer talking,

there on the side of this boat it's faded name just visible,

The Swallow.

Just before we reached the corner,

looking back, the silvery moon now fading, the act of remembering exhausting it,

the blue boat back to being forgotten,

as if the scene and the story had become closed.

We continued on our way…

Bob the Green Druid /|\ 🕯️🍃

24th July 2026

This poem was inspired by the Plant Your Poetry daily poem prompt - pool, and a memory of a Sunday afternoon exploring and finding an upturned blue boat at the side of a once loved pool. I had Ransome’s book with me and over lunch I read some chapters of the book to my wife.

An undercurrant to life,

on the surface tranquil and calm,

yet go only millimetres, and there, a raging flow.

Pushing and pulling…

happiness and despair residing here,

sharp intakes of breath indicating your there.

Carrying on with daily life,

attempting to make the most of every opportunity,

when in reality in the undercurrent all you want to do is run away and hide.

To allow this flow to subsume you,

here there is a rawness that if you try to reveal it,

no one wants to know.

No one will even throw you a life- jacket.

In the undercurrent of life your on your own,

wishing you had taken the chance to learn to swim underwater.

The moral of the story, if there needs to be one,

when seeing someone - look a little closer.

Be the next Grace Darling at least to this person-

for tomorrow may be too late.

Be the life jacket, all it takes is a genuine smile and the word ‘hello’.

Bob the Green Druid /|\ 🕯️ 🍃

20th July 2026

This poem was inspired by the Plant Your Poetry daily poem prompt - undercurrent

“Life’s eddies...”

An instruction for life’s challenges,

navigating those turbulent water’s,

when pulled into opposite directions,

here at these times the water ravages.

The goal isn’t to quash it,

fight it,

we may long to return to silent, still waters,

but the ocean’s eddies have different intentions.

The best we can hope for,

is to stay upright,

remain breathing,

stop paddling,

refrain from navigating,

and rest for a while.

The pull may be too much,

the sea dictates otherwise,

how dare mankind try to dictate

terms,

She’s given enough warnings.

Put away the map, the sextant, come down from the crows nest,

you’ve now reached the core, here’s where you can rest.

Here’s where you’re meant to be now,

prepare

but, you can’t stay here forever.

The pull will change before you know it,

life’s course will change with it,

in those quiet lulls,

the trick is to build up resilience,

whether that be through faith, love or determined grittiness.

The shore you return to may not be the same,

waves have continued to reshape it, mould it and in cases destroy it,

life’s task now is to negotiate the new terrain,

with memories acting as guide posts.

In the core you survived, managed to stay the course…

put those skills and experiences, to good use,

as you disembark,

now,

feel the sand beneath your feet.

You’ve now returned to life’s eddies.

Bob the Green Druid /|\ 🕯️🍃

12th July 2026

This poem was inspired by the Plant Your Poetry daily poem prompt - Eddy and influenced by Beth Kempton’s writing retreat today titled The sea, the sea.

The wailing tree…

How long has she been wailing,

distraught at man’s failings,

humanity’s inhumanity for living beings,

her bending, carrying woes from time beginning.

Linking, the goddess moon with water,

she’s pleading…

sit aside her, ask Cerridwen for her wisdom…

Break this habitual action.

She’s symbolising hope within grief, life after tears,

listen to the leaves talking, alchemy within her branches.

Bowing under the weight of man’s sorrows,

the tree is asking us to let go-

her fingers, branches to the otherworld…allowing spirits to cross through.

Watch what happens when branches break,

she doesn’t mourn the loss,

the branch rebirths anew.

Listen to her, the Saille- the tree doesn’t want to wail,

she’s asking to be freed from this burden-

she’s wanting to return to Gaia’s original intention…

Vitality and rebirth

Bob the Green Druid /|\ 🕯️ 🍃

5th June 2026

This poem was inspired by the prompt following discussion in our Stafford group. This represents the 169th poem of the year. Thankyou Edna

For those wondering, Saille is the Celtic Ogham word for Willow, the tree of rebirth and cycles. Cerridwen is a lunar Celtic goddess associated with Willow and is the goddess of transformation and wisdom. Whilst Gaia is an alternative name for mother earth.

Picture credit Google image

“King Arthur and Afanc…”

A hot, very hot June day,

‘a gentle walk, you said”!

That was early that morning, both eager to ascend the giant’s roof top.

Now descending, we’d not rested for long,

both parched, longing to shed our sticky clothes,

Llyn Cau teased us,

as we slipped and stumbled down that shale path.

Her eyes glistening, shining,

catching the mid afternoon sun,

inviting us to descend into her never ending depths,

uttering oaths- as shale punctured both boots and skin…

‘not long now’ - I tried to reassure us, but I’d been here before-

another half an hour I thought ruefully.

‘It’ll be worth it, just look at how she’s calling us’,

‘It looks as if I can see eyes staring, blues, greens and brown, shining’…

Eventually arriving, and though only a day’s walking, heavy rucksacks discarded…

with only minimal dignity, clothes were shed,

we entered those glacial waters…

so deliciously cool, the water droplets looked like diamonds on your skin,

rainbow arc’s appearing, a goddess before me.

‘Look I can see rubies’, you cried,

the sun had changed from golden - to pinks…colours no artist could ever invent,

reflected back in the water… was it the sun or was it the monsters m in eyes watching?

‘Are you sure King Arthur rid the lake of the Afanc - or is it there waiting’?

I dived below you and grabbed your foot,

like the brown trout that now reside there, in the chilling waters, we swam and splashed… the trek long forgotten,

there we played in the afternoon’s glistening sun…

was it the breeze that caused the lake to ripple… or the Afanc?

we’ll never know.

Bob the Green Druid /|\ 🕯️🍃

This poem was inspired by the Plant Your Poetry daily poem prompt - glisten and a long ago memory of Hiraeth

Many planted at the time of the

enclosures,

John Clare’s nightmare,

in living memory, become part of the collective landscape,

home to so many life forms - vital for the countryside’s survival.

Hawthorn, black thorn, rowan, bramble - dog rose, honeysuckle,interspersed with the occasional oak and ash.

Here at present - bluebells, harebells and nettles…

Walking the aging hedgerow I can see it’s home to numerous fellows, some big, some small.

Stock dove, collared dove and pigeon, blackbird, mistle thrush, blue tits and mandy, tree creeper, dunnock, ha there’s a bullfinch, gold crest, sorry Huggin and Munnin they are there to and last of all Robin.

This is not to mention the 1000s of insects that live here, some resident, some passing through…

Do we really want to rip these havens of ecosystems out, to replace them with what?

Where is the sense in that???

I’m sorry I forgot the mammals, squirrels, weasel, harvest mice and a rat, common mouse and look there’s a toad, and look there’s a deer nibbling on the hedgerow’s cloak.

Have I convinced you? The futility of replacing the hedgerow with a wooden, sterile barbed wire fence.

The hedgerow is so much more than a property marker… it’s nature’s unique habitat, its become part of it's breathing lung.

Bob the Green Druid /|\ 🕯️🍃

26th June 2026

This poem was inspired by the Plant Your Poetry daily poem prompt - hedgerow.

Within the poem is the list of birds seen is Mandy, named after my wife passed away the YouTube Scottish wildlife garden group named the great tit - mandy as short hand for the bird.

There in the murky waters - life’s evolutionary journey,

A story just waiting to be told…

Their lifeform reminding me of human

beginnings

swimming

in

an

aquatic sea

All contained in a giants jam jar,

Is it a giant or Gaia herself?

Gaia, mother nature, experimenting with man,

seeing if we can be trusted with this planet.

We’ve been here for just a short time,

in her history,

300,000 years and the jar is choking now…

look how we’ve mistreated her waters…

If only there was a Bach flower rescue remedy to redeem us,

But, maybe Gaia is tired,

willing the earth to exist with us as only a memory.

I look inside the kilner jar, nothing more than a vessel of stillness…

waiting for Gaia’s next intervention.

Bob the Green Druid /|\ 🕯️🍃

24th June 2026

This poem was inspired by the Plant Your Poetry daily poem prompt - the word being Jam jar.

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As the wind blows,

Life tosses this way and that,

Roots are what hold me.

(with thanks to Laura Cockburn and Emily Porth for their beautiful labyrinth workshop)

June 13th

2026

Treated like just a pebble…

As a pagan - heart broken

tears shedding,

The mother of all rocks, especially within this country,

The Embodiment of mother nature, just left in a bag…

With tears falling

A pebble you say,

come from these isles,

1.5 to 3 billion years ago

here before mankind was thought of.

A window to transport through,

Crystals compacted,

Each with stories as old as the cosmos,

Made up of quartz, feldspar and hornblende - it’s energy attracting and drawing me back to Barvas - two years ago

treated like just a pebble…

Pagans, empaths and truth be told scientists - they know this stone is the conduit that links

Earth - Humanity - Cosmos

Within those crystals, earth’s primordial memoirs are stored.

But yet kept now in a bag, left in the dark: yet something else to keep me awake throughout the night

Please instead of treating it like a pebble, revere it just as our ancestors did…

Lewisian Gneiss - possibly from the Barvas moor

Bob the Green Druid /|\ 🕯️🍃

June 2026

A Blue Moon,

Certain conditions required to bring about its existence,

every 2.5 to 3 years to be precise

pagans and astrologers excited for its occurrence.

But ask Hubble for permission and you’ll see it’s never gone.

It’s those left behind that are impermeant - we are the ones fleeting

Choose to look, and you’ll see that the lunar goddesses radiance has always shone - never gone…

That’s the same for your existence,

go back to Hubble, ask them to retrain their scope -

It’s so easy to see the evidence of our love

Realise it’s never gone - it’s not impermeant

It’s just that those who are left, become idle and fail to look…

So if when you are feeling blue,

Look up more often, retrain the telescope,

Don’t count the days, hours and minutes,

Seconds can never stand still -

the Blue Lunar Goddess returns not as a rumour

and remember, the Blackbird’s song is there at every dawn chorus...

Bob the Green Druid - (astrological heavenly Druid today!) /|\ 🕯️🍃

31st May 2026

This poem was inspired by the Plant Your Poetry daily poem, yesterday’s word prompt was impermanence

The reading....

The druid wisdom card is the Ritual of air, a spell for luck whispered in the air.

Card 1 ~ (past) Ffaff the ffoter earthing grounding centering

Do not show disrespect for your feet or for walking on mother earth with grubby feet either. The message of the card is as life grows out of death... Good can grow from the things we call bad!!!

The rune linked with card is Eihwaz ~ a re-growth from the passing of the old situation into the form of the new situation, all rites of passage contain the symbolism of death, leave the past behind let yourself be reborn....

Card 2 ~ (present) Luathas the wild, fire spontaneity balance Luathas is associated with the creative life force. There has to be balance, fire is neither good or bad the phoenix shows the cycle of birth death and rebirth.

The rune on this card is Wunjou~ representing happiness is yours if you’re prepared to work for it. You must strive a balance and harmony in life

Card 20~ (future) The Dark lady represents unconscious power and wisdom, rituals mysteries and secrets. The dark lady is the high priestess of the mysteries we find her through meditation ensley and within inner peace ecstasy and total despair she is the Guardian of being some born of has certainly unconscious ideas and you’ll see sprouting in the dark cold Earth tender and fragile she holds the embryonic hopes we have not yet realized we have. When we travel to the darkness inner or outer we learn the strengths of the Dark Lady. Within a reading this card suggests it is time to withdraw from the ordinary world to revitalize ourselves through retreat and surrender to the source what is hidden is getting ready to be revealed.

The rune on this car is Fehu~reprents the need to recognize the direction in which daily life is taking us.

If you know me - these cards and runes could not have been picked any better

Bob the Green Druid /|\

30th May 2026

Thank you for reading and I look forward to the next blue moon, but remember she is always there.

Bob the Green Druid /|\ 🕯🍃

“The Hill Left Bleeding”

Walking over the North Bridge to go home on the number 26 bus,

It was the night of May 25th, that is if 10pm is referred to as night,

An evening of mixed emotion,

Many tears flowing,

Remembering 40 years ago, hundreds of miles away in a hamlet called Hastingleigh.

But tears flowed greater - had been for some time, if only I’d known it,

This time tears not of salt water but of burning embers,

Cried not by me - but by mother earth,

My tears would come at 10pm, Gaia had been crying for hours.

Tramlines of devastation, of uncontrolled burning,

Slithers creeping up and down Arthur’s seat,

Eating up vegetation, chicks, baby mammals and goodness knows the numbers of invertebrates.

All dying souls released into the heavens,

Gaia crying over her raped body,

But still the slithers continued their invasion.

I thought this is how you must have looked when 350million years ago - you last spewed blood.

The following morning at 8.30am, walking back along the North Bridge,

I see and feel your pain and destruction,

Smoke still issuing -

Choking my heart!!!

Those tramlines visible not only on your body but on my face,

As tears have fallen, if for no other reason than to share your pain.

I was so mad, (that adjective not nearly strong enough) - rage of mankind’s insensitivity

There Gaia is weeping and passersby can’t even give her a nod.

So wrapped up humans are with their selfish actions,

Can’t realise their greed are fueling those tears of blood,

Those who do weep are un-kindly suggested to seek help.

Voyeurs gawping, not making any connections.

Only will mankind realise when they can’t get their coffee or morning fix or morning fuck

Because quite simply, there are no more mornings…

Gaia’s had enough ~ I just hope I’m here to see you erupt again all these years later.

Bob the Green Druid /|\

May 26th 2026

Preserving what and why?

Om Shanti, shanti, shantihi

A mindful mantra

a cup of darjeeling

sat waiting for someone to play a move - nearly 500 miles away

Lokah Samastah Sukhino Bhavantu

Not what we’d planned for - to look forward to

all those years ago

now i’m remembering, preserving a memory

creating a unique memory palace

capturing every detail

every look, every smile

as if life itself depended upon it

The night before spent alone - 40 years ago

last night spent alone

existence turned in full circle

then, something exciting about to be launched upon

now nothing more than the words in a sankalpa

Opening a memory box

still not decorated - another example of how I let you down

as if any more were needed

memories, physical tangible objects preserved for what reason?

and for who?

No one is here that would appreciate them

No one wants to listen to their story

There’s no one here even to even sit with me

Neither my son or daughter have rang to say happy anniversary

No friends texted to say thinking of you today

Just me playing an empty chair

waiting to make their move

hoping the shilling in the meter doesn’t go*

but then wishing the chess flag would fall on me

The divine laughing

your not alone, forget humans

they’re time limiting

come lay on the grass with me

breathe in my aromas

know I’m holding you always

You have friends on substack and insight timer

know they are part of your tribe as Erica describes them.

And for you all I’m very grateful.

and to you I say

Om Shanti, Shanti, Shantihi

Bob the Green Druid /I\

23rd of May 2026

This poem was inspired by the Plant Your Poem prompt word - preserve. Today is our wedding anniversary.

*the reference to the shilling in the meter refers to my grandfather who had one of the very first chess computers. It however cleared the memory when you turned it off. It also played a very good game and you had to play well to beat it. My grandfather had been playing all night and was close to beating it for the first time when the shilling went in the meter hence the game was null and void! Poor grandad!!

The title is a nod to the Kinks