Greenery

Good afternoon readers.

There are times as writers when we get caught out by a theme throwing too much at us. This week on the blog, we've been looking at 'green', which as you might expect left a lot to go at for a loudmouth vegan like myself. I'm trying to resist the temptation to go there as I'm still not sure whether I'm horrified or delighted at the idea of 'feeding the world' without having to feed the animals. I understand the need to provide for a population and I understand that meat requires grain production- it was a contributing factor in my going vegan in the first place. What I can't understand is the flavouring of 'lab meat' with beetroot and a shake of Sharwood's- especially on the basis of efficiency. Seven pounds of grain might be needed for a pound of beef but if we're talking efficiency, seven pounds of grain is seven pounds of grain- let's just all eat more of that!

I promised you I wouldn't rant... Here are my other two angles for the week then- one light poem, one more serious.

What colour?

Green like the giant that grows the best sweetcorn
Green like the logo for giant BP.
Green like the trees and the leaves and the peas
Green like asparagus- green like your wee.
Green like the summer-grown fresh football field
Green like the stain on the cricketer's knee
Green like the case on the game for your xbox
Green like the mould on the the crusty cracked brie
Green like the skins on the bodacious turtles
Green like the colour of infected feet
Green like the flesh of the unripe tomatoes
Green like the fashionable-once bathroom suites
Green like the edges of bushes and hedges
Green like the colour of most things I eat
Green like the sea or the pool in the forest
Green like a crocodile baring its teeth
Green like the colour described in this poem
Green like the mixture of yellow and blue
Green like my envy if you've got the hue right
For green is the colour of growth- always new.

----

Superheroes.

There's a green revolution
up in arms on pollution
but there's no constitution today.
For the fat cats that frack us
can pay far less taxes
and pay locals off in paltry ways.

But the mothers and fathers
not farmers with harvests of cash-
their kids suffer through greed
Is it not their birth right
to take in all the sights
That are here, still unspoiled to see

There's a right to protect
It is what they'd expect
So it's high time the government listened
They'll protest, it's their right
They're lined up for the fight
Because after all- no-one owns Britain. 



Thanks for reading,
S.