Farmers are our armors against hunger,
People who collect veggies and fruits, Not people who are posh or dress in suits.
We use them to our advantage And don't consider their heritage.
Farmers are our singers of nature, People who are underpaid, They are the people who should have a parade.
They pick our every grain, With dedication, sweat, and pain.
Farmers, we picture them as...
Saturday 27th March 2021 9:01 pm
my mind’s hazy.
Penned in like chicken
that never lays...
and a merging of powers.
When did we surrender control of the supply chain?
I hear vegans got beef
but you can’t get the show on an empty road.
Do we even know where our food is grown?
Butcher, cheesemonger, greengrocer, and farmer...
were stripped from our com...
Thursday 19th March 2020 5:11 pm
I have ploughed one field
And seen the soil turn
To lie against its fellow
Under the greedy gull shout
Behind my blade.
Worm gorged, at dusk
They seek a distant tide line
And the furrowed field clamour
Slips silently into the night
I have broken the plough lines
Left to crumble in the sun
Where worms once toiled
My disk and dragging chain
Harrowed the la...
Friday 13th April 2018 4:12 pm
a land wraithed in smoke and the stink of death
man's determination dulled by desperation and
the hollow, guilty hope that the creeping fate might end
at a neighbour's door.
You cannot farm in the present
At least not in Wales.
The hills were silent memorials to herds brought low,
Uncropped: a tragedy of gr...
Friday 28th July 2017 3:00 pm
You deserve this break, having been up since even the early-bird was still in bed,
Even awake while the stars were still high in the sky
And the moon bathed the grass with its pale white eye.
Moving these animals from their sleeping state,
Off of their beds doubling as dinner plates, doubling as dinner-
Their begrudging moans loud as they leave this place of rest to go to work,
Friday 6th January 2017 4:16 am
South southeast, veering wet,
poor, Whigfield tufted sheep
craw chewed, styled to taste
last year's chic. Yellow green
sods, wind blown, too big boots,
head swollen, thistled through.
Crow puddled islands, apple
beaked, nasal juice, laps up
the scaled legs. Trips unwary
sea grey, oven ready, mitten
warm, gamboling lamb, good.
Friday 14th March 2014 7:24 pm