I spread a piece of bread with butter,

layered it with jam,

topped it off with runny honey,

(makes a change from spam)

sliced it into two but fumbled,

dropped them on the ground.

Typical of lifelong luck -

both landed spread side down. 

Forget about Frankenstein, Dracula, dragons,

werewolves and wiches, ogres and bogeymen.

Ditch djinns, dinosaurs, ghouls, zombies and demons -

the most malevolent monsters are humans.

We see and hear and read so much

about our environmental problems

but still ignore the elephant in the room.

We know so much about global warming,

air pollution, species extinction,

plastics in the sea - predictions of doom.

Yet still the tusker is unrecognised

in our worries about our ailing Earth

while we search for cures amid prevailing gloom.

But is it ours, this jewel of Earth?

For sure, humanity's so dominant

we treat it like some family heirloom.

Yet we have really stolen it,

usurped it with so many people

that other forms of life have little room.

The elephant is human population

and it's not enough to slow its growth;

we urgently need to reduce it - and soon !

Why aren't all the world's governments

keenly promoting birth control

with free contraceptive pills and condoms?

Will it need wars or worldwide plagues

to cull our rampant humanity?

Perhaps over-using antibiotics is a boon

for all the Earth's non-human life

if a global pandemic decimates

mankind one minute before high noon.

Is human misery on such  scale

the ultimate price we'll have to pay

to enable a healthier planet to bloom?

Otherwise there'll be no room

for that ostracised elephant in the room.

How many mistakes do I make in a day?

I tried to keep count but lost my way.

Perhaps a calculator could say

with integral calculus showing the way

Brief (allotment) Encounter

"My word, you've got a lot of weeds"

she said. Cheeky so-and-so !

"Of course" I said "I grow them for compost.

Everyone here does. Didn't you know?"

"Oh" she muttered. Exit deflated lady.

(Well, only a little lie as lies go)

Young women filled the tiny dance floor

rocking and rolling to the beat,

beauty shining with more and more

smiles and laughter on rhythmic feet.

But strange that none of them have men

hovering by, coming and going.

Too many surely for a hen party,

bridal sash and maids not showing.

And then it hit me - the entrance quids,

a charity name discreetly labelled !

Their men are home looking after the kids

at least one of whom will be disabled.

So now the scene becomes much darker.

The women here must all be plucky,

dealing with problems in a life much starker -

the yummy mummies who birthed unlucky.

When those expensive garden centre flowers

have flourished, bloomed, shrivelled and died,

self-sown hollyhocks, nasturtiums,

marigolds have survived.