evocative short poetry education


Do chickens hold their food in their feet while they are eating?

Some birds actually do,
The Ornithologists have discovered,

Actually hold their food in their feet whilst they are dining,
Fine dining,

Eat with their hands,

As do a vast array of mammals.


♦photo♦ Jason Reed for Reuters

-evocative short poetry-

Office lover


Dreaming of;

Colorful balloons on an African plain,
Hot air rising, with

Rich people making eye contact,
Heaving brandy glasses at the bar by the salt-lick lake,

Making new friends with,
Levitating boobs or

Bouyant balls,
Out on the reef, whilst;

Putting out lurid spread-sheets,
At the office photocopier,

With Sam,
And his dark blue eyes,

Hoping bouyant balls will crack it too,
That male or female,

Cleavage wins,

That bobbing balls will sway him from the levitating boobs of Caroline in the corner,

Leaving dreams that on the African plain,
Bouyant balls can look like levitating boobs,

Will bring Sam round,
With his dark blue eyes, to

Dreaming of African sunsets,
With you.




-evocative short poetry-

We don’t dance anymore


We don’t dance anymore,
And it happened so quickly.

We sold our souls on the galactic market,
For peanuts.

The Earth recovered though, its

We sold everything to be together,
We did, and

Life happened.

This far down the line, we’re all that’s left and
You still are,

The most beautiful thing about me.

♦Photo:  Mary Pendergreene

-evocative short poetry-



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-





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-



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-



Smogasbord, 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

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-




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

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-


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 –