If Greta’s Right

If Greta’s right, then we might have to give
our cars up, and stop flying and perhaps
stop eating meat – why how’s a man to live
without a car as big as other chaps

If Greta’s right (how can she be, she’s just
a girl, and what is more she’s slightly odd)
We’ll have to live on lettuce, and a crust
And shiver, and in winter go unshod

That Greta’s wrong. That’s easier to say
Much easier than looking at ourselves
It’s not as if we’ll live long anyway
Sod Greta. Pile the plastic on the shelves

And light the sky up bright with fossil fuels
The children lie. The scientists are fools.

© Gail Foster 23rd September 2019


Catabolic Grace

Harvest by Oliver Freeman


reproduced with permission ©Oliver Freeman


this poem was inspired by the powerful images

of nature and decay; of beauty and desolation

in Oliver Freeman’s art



Catabolic Grace


land undulating

in to rolling furrows ploughed

defiant decay

waste of catabolic grace

dross in to gold in to dross


at the seasons edge

green waves, shining muddy rills

euphoric rising

flower painted battlefields

gold in to dross in to gold


by Gail