Monday, 2 August 2021

2nd August 2021

From the back bedroom
I can see the neighbour and her golden lad
throwing sticks

© Rachel Green August 2021

on the death of Hawaiian reefs
thanks to the tropical fish industry.
I never again
want to see a marine tank
in somebody's house.
It's as bad a big game hunting
or whaling.

© Rachel Green August 2021

Sunday, 1 August 2021

1st August 2021


beautiful dawn
occluded by wintery skies
street pigeons

© Rachel Green August 2021

A new painting
of the London skyline
ruined by the glue
I used for the stencils.
'Lo-tac' my arse, mate.
I destroy the canvas
and use the tiny bits I can salvage
to make greetings cards.

© Rachel Green August 2021

Saturday, 31 July 2021

31st July 2021


overcast; cool
it feels like autumn already
lords and ladies

© Rachel Green July 2021

attempting to recruit
the late Terry Pratchett to their cause.
Have they not read the books?
It's like a cis white Republican
trying to recruit Lil Nas X.
just fuck off with your transphobia
we just want to live our lives
in our chosen genders.

© Rachel Green July 2021

Friday, 30 July 2021

30th July 2021


scolding over the stale bread
and the dog, eating it

© Rachel Green July 2021

a trip into town
fills me with anxiety
at the bank
they're closing all the counters
full automation is the future.
The chemist doesn't have my meds:
another promise to sort it out.
The flea market is in full swing
unwanted goods; inflated prices.
I wanted some tee shirts
but the shoppers in Primark
aren't wearing masks
do bugger that for a lark.
Time to go home.

© Rachel Green July 2021

Thursday, 29 July 2021

29th July 2021


clear sky
hot sunshine on my back
tree-bending wind

© Rachel Green July 2021

The Queen
blocks climate change
won't let renewable energy
enter her ninety-two thousand acres
of personally-own Scottish land;
lobbies ministers
to exempt it from carbon reduction laws.
On the other hand,
she owns twelve miles of sea bed
around the Scottish coastline
and is waiting for The Right Price
to build wind turbines.

via The Guardian

© Rachel Green July 2021

Wednesday, 28 July 2021

28th July 2021


overnight rain

leaves the air smelling fresh

watered garden

© Rachel Green July 2021

a dozen teeth

drying on the windowsill.

I'll use them somewhere;

a piece of art;

soft sculpture

or a plaster of paris reindeer head

with humanised mouth

and lips love a music queen.

© Rachel Green July 2021

Tuesday, 27 July 2021

27th July 2021

treatening rain
nervous dog

© Rachel Green July 2021

for the first time
in twenty-plus years,
I have no story inside me
waiting, half-formed
for release on the page.
One will come
but the waiting period is tedious
and few would read it anyway.

© Rachel Green July 2021