Daniel Moreschi
Instagram: @daniel.moreschi
BIOGRAPHY:
I'm a disabled poet from Neath, who experienced a significant turning point when my ongoing battle with severe M.E. upended my life. However, during this period, I rediscovered my passion for poetry, which had lain dormant since my teenage years. Writing has become not just a distraction from my struggles, but also a purpose.
My poetry primarily focuses on animals, natural phenomena, and the environment. I hope that my poems can offer readers moments of reflection and appreciation for the natural world.
‘Hubris of Humanity’
Each day that passes by us, scars are carved upon our planet’s skin.
With ill-regard for timeless cycles, we defy the grace of tenanting this world.
Instead, we race towards a future guided by our own creations,
never pausing to atone for Gaia’s silent cries, nor even soothe her aches.
Such things dissent from brands of truth, devised in forums,
where committees speak on different ways to desecrate the peaks and lands alike. Complacently they sit, each script the same, despite how one in six of everything is on course for extinction.
Agendas shift, yet still involve a vision —bellowed out by breaths of industries—that beckons kindled trees and simmered seas; omitted symptoms, cast as trifling pain at best.
Yet it arises inside veins of woodlands, where the world is bleeding green.
It emanates from plains; an arid thirst, unseen, ensures that rootlets foster lost tomorrows.
It rushes out from frigid hearts as hollow walls of glaciers weep in unison.
It echoes in indifferent soils; the sun- lit lanes that lost their iridescent waves and fields amassed with fabricated blades. The corporate-engendered future points towards depleted ecospheres as we anoint ourselves as pioneers that usurped Mother Nature;
basking in a neon summer, audaciously applauding song-less droves of Robo-Bees,
that find their way through roads, which anchor algorithmic orchids.
All the while continuing to plunder hauls from every primal crevice, guided by efficient calculations of AI,
—its lasting fealty to us assumed— relying on it, too, to stem the fumes and swells of tempered elements therein, with hope it never labels us as vermin.
'Ancestral Footprints' - Dan Husband
Crumbling steps show the way forged by others.
An epitaph to those who once were here.
Unbidden, they stretch off into a future that roils with gales and storm clouds.
Crumbling lives leave fragments lived by others.
A jigsaw of broken dreams, hope and resentment.
Echoes of sadness and laughter call distantly from the halls that appear to never end.
Stumbling on, blindly, into ancestral footprints.
The only marker of a safe path.
Though as they disappear into the mist which both beckons and threatens to swallow me whole, a question.
Do I truly exist?
Stumbling over discarded memories left forgotten.
A room kept messy and ransacked only for us.
Rutting through to find a light one or a dark one, perhaps in their embers is salvation.
Fumbling around for a match to begin the burn.
Cleanse the overgrown forest of this clouded mind.
As the flames roar around the path we tread, we must all walk through the fire in the footprints of the dead.
Fumbling for a key to unlock the final door. It groans open and I’d swear it whispered, ‘Nevermore’. Keening and cracking begins to spider web beneath my feet.
My world collapses and still burning, I plunge into the waters of our lore.
Your Story - A.J Kristian
SOMETIMES
I IMAGINE MYSELF AS OTHER PEOPLE
PEOPLE I SIT ACROSS FROM
ON A TRAIN,
OR IN A RESTAURANT,
A WAITING ROOM
OR BROWSING THE SHELVES IN A SUPERMARKET
I CATCH MYSELF OBSERVING THEM
FOR A BIT TOO LONG REALLY,
WONDERING WHAT ARE THEY READING?
LISTENING TOO?
WORRYING ABOUT?
WAITING FOR?
SHOPPING FOR?
WHERE ARE THEY GOING?
IS IT SOMEWHERE EXCITING?
SOMEWHERE MUNDANE, LIKE WORK?
DO THEY LIKE IT?
DOES IT PAY WELL?
IS THEIR BOSS A PRICK?
ARE THEY ANXIOUS?
HAPPY?
SAD?
IN PAIN?
CONTENT?
DRUNK?
I IMAGINE WHAT IT’S LIKE TO BE IN THEIR BODY
DO THEY ACHE LIKE I DO?
DO THEY COUGH?
ARE THEY HEALTHY?
DO THEY SLEEP WELL?
IS THEIR BRAIN QUIET?
ARE THEY STRONG?
WEAK?
DOUBLE JOINTED?
I KNOW IT’S ODD BUT I CAN’T HELP IT
THE COMPARISON
THE WONDERING
WHAT’S MADE THEM LAUGH?
WHAT ARE THEY TALKING ABOUT?
WHAT ARE THEY THINKING ABOUT?
ARE THEY IN LOVE?
ARE THEY A GOOD PERSON?
WHAT GETS THEM UP IN THE MORNING?
WHAT’S THEIR POLITICAL VIEWS?
WOULD THEY GIVE TO THE HOMELESS?
WHAT IS THEIR SHOE SIZE?
NOT REALLY
I SUPPOSE IT DEPENDS ON THEIR SHOES
PERHAPS
THEY DO THE SAME FOR ME?
WHEN I’M NOT LOOKING
IS SOMEONE ELSE WONDERING WHAT’S HE TYPING?
IS THAT TOOTHPASTE IN HIS BEARD?
I LIKE HIS GLASSES
HE LOOKS LIKE HE HASN'T SLEPT
BLESS HIM
ARE THOSE SKINNY JEANS?
IN THIS DAY AND AGE?
WHY IS HE LAUGHING TO HIMSELF
THAT’S ODD
THAT GUY IS WEIRD
AND WHY
IS HE LOOKING AT MY SHOES?
Comments