By Anita M Kulkarni Nabonne

Wherever the need is on this globe, vast battles are being fought every hour of every day.  Monumental challenges are being met and victories gained to overcome the dereliction of our care and duty to the many species we temporarily are privileged to enjoy, and to the only home we have.  We ill treat them both, and just like the garbage that is slowly defining our seas – it is coming to back to haunt us.

More and more states in the U.S. will follow suit enforcing a Styrofoam ban.  It is estimated that before long there will be more plastic than fish in our waters.

We have at our disposal some fantastic and often beleaguered organisations to help guide us; Greenpeace, WWF, Friends of the Earth to name only 3. We have sanctuaries and nature reserves and fights for animal welfare and their rights…

View original post 891 more words


Mama I know you are sad…

Cleanse me in cool waters, and not in ripples of blood
Swaddle me with love and understanding,
don’t drape me under a tattered cloth,
piled up for the dead

T’morrow all the birds will sing,
flying through the billow of clouds.

Talk to me about magnificent hawks and majestic eagles
don’t fill my young eyes with swarming vultures
pulling flesh from the fallen dead.

T’morrow bucks will charge the does wildly through the brush.

Smile at me with joy, when the sun is shining down.
Coo at me with laughter in your voice, delight in your heart
and not from a written letter found in your belongings.

T’morrow the sun will shine,
and bees will dance in bountiful fields of flowers.

Mama, I know you are sad,
but remember that tomorrow
will be better. Guns and bullets will disappear
and deafening bombs will vanish.

T’morrow, infinite rolling hills will sway,
an illusion of thick and lush greenery.

There will be no more intolerance.
No more Black or White,
Red or Brown, or shades of Grey.

Mama, press me against your heart,
and we will walk together into a new and peaceful world
…one step at a time.


Mother walked in meekly.
Her body, malnourished.
skin pallid and damp.
Eyes concave.

She smells of beer.

Mother is passed out on birthing trolley.
Squabbling nurses push and pull on her swollen belly.
In her arms a swaddled and limp body
A premature consequence.
Head drooping
miniature fingers,
withered extremities.

Eyes sunken,
limbs quivering,
breath faltering

A lifetime of mental retardation.

She reeks of stale smoke.





Bella, the bejeweled ballerina
bought bangles – bracelets braided
with burgundy birthstones.
Binding her brunette bun,
she banged and bopped.
Bounce up!
Beats bop with ballet booties.
Bounce up!
boogie bounces.
Black swan
brushes back her beautiful bangs.
Bounce up!
Balancing bows.
Beguiling Bella,
butterfly to breathless,
boisterously begging,
bathes in blooming,
bloodied buds and blaring bellows.


Mysterious numbers rise and fall, leaving me faint
Astonishingly multiplying these blurred heavy-stained parallel lines
Tentacles tug and tear at me from my cubicle seat
Hexagons and prisms -these quadratic equations will be the death of me yet.