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Details | Environment Poem | |

TO THE FLOWER

TO THE FLOWER Your scent beckoned my weeping heart to painless flight; amidst a garden where God dusts His pretty love. Spring tints are pure and fragrant, free of guise. Your hues painted another sunrise for my eyes; when once I failed to catch the pledge of morn. A seed of hope was born to white petals blush. Though there are silhouettes of bitter yesterdays must all the phantoms of illusions fade and leave...? Your floating aroma stirred and shot my nerves; inspiring a nightingale to sing some joyous laments; It swayed with grace to dance on wind's despotic beat. among the rustling leaves which hug the earth below; So like the sun, which from distant horizon smiles; it roused the sleepy world to begin the pen of baby prose. The unfolding mystery of your petals brought my bewildered mind to peacock's reflection. Alas! All was transient. These eyes probe beneath but were blinded by the intrusion of some stray shine; Ambitions which from afar are building sprout; t'is that which let this self to irksome doubt. Lovely blossom of the wild, this sojourner nigh to tame your perfume's sweet stinging scent. A restless soul by some wicked, destiny pokes; someone called--- but pity, I couldn't tell a note. If by magic, a butterfly I could become; Let it be over my being slowly span. Then with you (though the specters in our midst are fierce), I could jet fly though miseries without fear. But am just a mortal of faith that blows this wish for only covenants call for my journey still? I cannot be forever the one who would share your sweetness; (Harken, fairies of blooms, this wilderness is not my lair.) I shall not want to witness you wilt as no time left to stay. Never again will you see me at day-break's bloom, save something special for others to experience you. This fleeting apparition I so adored; promised me burgeoning petals. "Be not afraid as seasons change, beyond today, I won't be here to see that no harm be done with all intentions to your sacred charm. As today, I leave you to Mother's Nature tender care, for I must go to some greater musing-- heaven's ground. Wilt not, as soon the rain will dash, refreshing you my dear. If I return someday-- will your sublime scent still be here?" Inspired by Susan Seddon Boulet's painting: -----http://media-cache-cd0.pinimg.com/236x/1d/c4/37/1dc437f88c0cfb2fbcc9333bd35bb8c3.jpg © Olive Eloisa Guillermo October 20, 2014 10:19 pm Contest Name Free Verse, Prose Poetry, haibun Sponsor Debbie Guzzi 2nd place

Details | Environment Poem | |

What the Eyes Cannot See


Kyoko walks alone in the morning tide, 
comforted for a fleeting moment by salty air.
She feels the same sand between her toes 
as when she was a barefoot little girl, in a time
she felt safe, when the eyes of her mother protected her 
like a suit of armor - before the mighty wall of water, 
the “harbor wave”, towered over her village 
near Fukushima, washing her happy childhood away. 
Her dear mother, her security, her everything
never came home that day. 

Many months later, her father, a local fisherman, 
has lost his ability to cry, laugh or tell her why.
His silent eyes, cold like frost, are dead 
like the poisoned fish he nets every morning. 
In many ways, Kyoko lost both of her parents 
on that haunting day - forced to grow up long before 
the water receded, before the nuclear leak, 
before this new, austere existence.

Night deepens the despair. She is loneliest 
when darkness invades. She prays for the crickets 
return. They no longer sing her to sleep, and the stars
have faded, no longer shining through her open window.
Even the grasshoppers have died…
from restless sleep, night calls her to the mirror 
to find her mother’s dark eyes staring back at her – 
a curse she hopes will one day become a blessing,
a hope that one day her father will look at her again...

With tomorrow, her greatest burden will return. 
She will wake along side the broken-winged butterfly
with her duties in mind. Then, she’ll wear her stoic face 
to the marketplace. Father says he will soon lose 
his fishing boat. She has heard visitors from the city say 
only a fool would eat the fish from nearby waters, 
the same fish she fries most every day. No one knows
the global impact, they say. She hears foreign words
like radiation, disease and mutation while she sells 
the shiso and wasabi root from their garden stand,
feeling fear she does not fully understand but one day will.
She only knows how to survive today…


For Debbie Guzzi's Global Poetry Contest, 11/19/14      

Details | Environment Poem | |

Dril-Baby-Drill


...and the wind..! was, electric. there was water..! there was sun..! ...it was all renewable... the energy, powered, sustained, life..! Fossil liquids burning emitting toxins that was OUR mistake. From the day a human kick started wound up the first combustible engine..! The first spill in any ocean should have been our clue. It was what cigarettes was to lungs- -what alcohol was to brain cells. It was a human error, a human error so huge that like a mythical dragon assumed a life of its own consumed the will the power the limited minds of limited men. Unlike the giant beast veiled as nuclear power with its unlimited potential that would have wooed the minds of the greatest among us, oil from its inception had the smell of destruction on its breath. It would in its own way fulfil the prophecy the world would end with a whimper not a bang. We saw its horns its bright red skin its pitch fork but we signed up willingly ...and from that day on our eternal souls were damned.
24~10~2014

Details | Environment Poem | |

Dead tree

Dead tree.

She stands there like she has for years
The life in her all gone
Once she wore a coat of green
And she'd be filled with song
As feathered friends of every kind
Would rest among her leaves
And as in life the same in death
Our tree will never grieve.

So all alone, she looks, this tree
All etched against black clouds
Although the life in her be gone
She stands there looking proud
And all her majesty is seen
By those with eyes to see
I take her picture once again
Try to catch her mystery

21 September 2013 @1920hrs.

Details | Environment Poem | |

Water Wall


As he slept in tranquil dream, 
Suddenly he flew, it seemed. 
Thrown and landing on the floor, 
Shaking walls and splintered doors. 

Just as quick, the room grew still. 
Distant tremors he could feel. 
Out the door, and up the rock, 
There he stood in sleepy shock. 

How could oceans disappear. 
Then a hissing he could hear 
And a trembling, heavy roar 
Headed for an empty shore. 

Sunrise turned a greenish hue, 
As he climbed, a better view. 
Seeming far too large, he saw 
What must be a water wall. 

Thought of ancient stories told 
Of a wrath that could unfold; 
Sucking oceans with a breath, 
Spewing endless waves of death. 

Instinct quickly cleared his mind. 
Panic now, he clawed and climbed. 
Up, despite the screams he hears, 
As a village disappears. 

Once an evil came to call, 
Scooped them up and took them all. 
Now he's old, his stories wane, 
Of the morning Satan came.


Gene Bourne 
08-18-14


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Details | Environment Poem | |

A Rage Against The Storm

A Rage Against The Storm


Alas! against the storm I did bellow,
you bloweth upon the wrong fellow
My soul you have now so sorely tried
fear, your gift has now so surely died!

Nature feeds your evil blowing wrath,
I curse your daring this upon my path
Heaven's powers ignore your wicked deeds
you the rot that eats away joy's seeds!

Hark! all the destruction you have wrought,
fruits of sins that man surely has bought
Yet, I defy your right to so hammer me
I, the strongest root of my family tree!

Rage on , tear out the withered and the old
This man defies you with a heart very bold!

Robert J. Lindley, 08-27-2014

Details | Environment Poem | |

Time -part 1-

Tragedy is never a sentiment for Time For it is a phenomenon she merely sees She pours forth abundance for all that behold her Even for those of us that scold her And for naught she was cursed from the beginning There she is—interminable Time at the fullest! And we all envy her ever-ringing constancy She rules over our hearts Keeping stress in our spirits Not once does she feel sorry for us Nor is she indifferent of our failures She begs not for gratefulness And accepts who she is with joy! How ample we would be if we Like she—were free of trepidation If only we be like her waters—clear and visible from top to bottom Filled with untainted approval What fools we must seem to such a pure jewel as Time But ah, she is both heartless and kind And though we hate her peculiar aura Oh how hard it is do tear her from our minds! How stressfully beautiful Time is! Like a wink of venerated bliss She smiles and smiles And our ironical faces feel like grime Still she laughs in mirth While the world becomes a ball of putrid hatred Wanting more and more of her And positively hating her We that cannot see her began to hate For we are as visible and low as can be And we acknowledge her merely to insult her Though she takes no pang to the chest For the only gifts we give in return for herself are pangs That she simply returns to each sender Hidden is our pride But ever placed Ever unhidden Is our inscrutable mortality And this humiliation of our unchangeable fates Makes us want to humiliate the more fortunate Thus we regard her only as a concept As a fraction of a belief—a bellowing ideal For of course Time cannot in our honey-glazed eyes Think, eat, drink or feel We use her—yes! Even abuse her Not once will she complain For her gift is everlastingness

Details | Environment Poem | |

Grandfather Speaks with Eagles

Irony cries out in Boulet’s rendering. Elderly Native American’s stern expression seems captured beneath eagle’s wings. Symbol of power and freedom, mighty bald eagle was chosen by European ancestors - United State’s national symbol. Yet independence for all was denied. Tribes seeking only to preserve their culture, their way of life, were undeservingly imprisoned on reservations. Stifled was freedom’s speech. Let the eagle’s voice be heard; toleration of injustice carries harsh consequences. Spread your wings, powerful bird, restore harmony to land seduced, neglected, compromised. Transmit tribal elders’ timely message. Human annihilation’s path is cruelly carved when animals and plants face extinction. Mounds of trash blister our land; parched prairies struggle to support life. Sorrowful cries of dying species echo through stripped land, causing songs of despair to resonate. Grandfather, speak with eagles; others appear deaf to your wisdom.
*Written October 15, 2014 and dedicated to late artist Susan Seddon Boulet, whose 2003 painting “Grandfather Speaks with Eagles” is but one of many pieces that evoke emotional response.

Details | Environment Poem | |

FLOWER POWER

           FLOWER POWER


He broke the rule, shattered it,
left the pieces for all to see.

The hill rolling, tree climbing,
butterfly chasing, game of tag
was over and the race for the
water fountain was on.

He ran with his flock,
suddenly breaking sharply
to the left, slowing to a
two knee landing.

He bent low, rolled onto
his side, did a little snake
dance, then lay motionless.

After several minutes he rose,
corrected his circuitous cycle,
and rejoined the thirsty flock.

Intrigued, I investigated the
cause/effect relationship
of his deviation -  A lone dandelion.

It had drawn him in,
he had studied it, touched it,
smelled it, tasted it, spent a
few moments getting to know it.

He remained unfamiliar with the rule
but had gained a familiarity with
the dandelion.

Perhaps he was on to something.


Submitted to Encounters with Flowers – Poetry Contest
Sponsor – Anthony Slausen
11/22/2014

Details | Environment Poem | |

The Stricken Corridor

Fall tumbles relentlessly on our door steps
young winter birds inducing provoking sounds scamper in trees 
Watching winter crawling slowly under our feet.

The night rain wet the ground with sadness 
washing  away the environmental stench
purging the atmosphere of  its infectious dew
And  I could absorb fresh air in my lungs again. 

I fell into a deep sleep shortly after nine but woke up 
by my next door neighbor bustling activities.
Nice showers clean fresh air is the perfect night to
be drenched with sleep but instead I was on my knees.

An unknown burden overshadowed  me, disturbing my spirit
raising my curiosity, causing me to ponder over unknown mysteries
unexplainable matters that doesn't concern me, yet they troubled me.

I soaked myself in prayer seeking for a  plausible answer 
And after praying I fell asleep again; a sleep that 
I thought would be peaceful but here I am again
on an unannounced journey to the Far East.

I mysteriously found myself on a university campus in the Far East,
no paint, no color, everywhere was deserted, no one was around
except for dry leaves  spreading out on the troubled ground 
and dull trees astoundingly lingering in the autumn breeze.
I walked propitiously through the front door along a bare corridor 
in search of a toilet to ease my body pressure.

A desolated corridor whose hope seemed to be diminished with the passing of time
a million feet must have trodden upon it, feet in search of  freedom ,
feet looking for peace, proud feet, dirty feet, bloody feet, stubborn feet.
Feet looking for revenge and feet marching to the destiny of doom. 
I moved anxiously from door to door but every door that I opened I saw
Asian toilet embedded deeply in the ground and clean water flooding all around. 

I opened another door and found a western bath filled with clean water 
I kept walking along the corridor but all the Asian toilets were flood with water.
At the end of the corridor I found one that was completely  dry but there was no toilet inside except for PVC pipe fittings planted firmly in the ground.

I tread along the opposite side of the hallway still searching for  a toilet
but only rooms whose doors were removed  and leaning helplessly
in front of them occupy the other side of the stricken corridor.


I anxiously left the building and a slim young man in his early twenties 
wearing shaded glasses ran behind a reception area outside the campus ground
and pretended as if he was at work, but that was only a deception.

As I walked passed him he tried to reached out to me
He complained about someone who has treated him badly
and pointed to a friend who was instrumental in turning his life around.
A sizable crowd gather around him as he  illustrates his painful story.

He and his friend took me to the other side of the campus where 
a larger crowd of young people had gathered for a wedding
some were sitting under large beach umbrellas
While others congregate in groups all over the campus grounds.
I walked upon a platform  where the wedding ceremony
was about to  take place but daylight suddenly exploded in my face.
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            ©2014 Christine Phillips


Details | Environment Poem | |

Sometimes in June

Sometimes in June

It was a lovely June morning;
Little woolly clouds drifted high up in the sky,
The air was full of sweet scents,
Small groves and groups of trees,
Silence like little lambs.

It was a lovely June morning;
Day had broken,
Cold and gray,
Exceedingly cold and gray,
No sun nor hint of sun,
It was a clear day.

It was a lovely June morning;
I gazed about other creatures in solitary,
An intangible pall over the face of other creatures,
Subtle gloom that surrounded man’s life,
The joyous in the mist of other nature,
Deep thought and tearful happy,
Slowly blush the past event away.

By
Ajeyemi Wasiu .A.

Details | Environment Poem | |

Bees

One hundred million years on Earth
There's no accounting for our worth
Without our quite amazing powers
there would be no trees or flowers

The Earth would be a barren place
No flowers to, your borders, grace
No cereals to make your bread
and keep your teeming millions fed

We've worked our magic without fuss
but now, it seems, you're killing us
Your all consuming need for more
has brought us to extinction's door

Your pesticides have done their worst
Our decline can't be reversed
Because of them we cannot breed
but you don't take the slightest heed

When we're gone most plants will die
and YOUR extinction will be nigh
Without us to pollinate
mankind will have sealed it's fate

It's too late now, the damage done
The end of 'Apis' has begun
All life on Earth brought to its knees
and all because you killed the bees

Details | Environment Poem | |

My Perfect Story

The Perfect Story


Ingredients.... My Epic Melody!

 
I spread my wings, 

To carry you into that perfect ride.

Allowing you to communicate with my mind.

I'll show you what my perfect story would have in it.

With the world's enigma not everyone can find.

Words twisted with reality and beauty divine

The majestic ways to live with fairy tales combined.

Show no weakness towards the mercy of my gift.

Unleash the lightning, leaving all competition behind.

Pierce every word with my gleaming eyes.

You'll find yourself in the ebony of the blind.

A space passing every constellation with no regrets of return.

Assault the moment of the mind with the perfect line..

Expect pain, love, death, and desires that burn.

A trap for the follower to sink in.

Losing yourself to the evil garden underneath the green fern. 

Falling in love with the mental link of my imagination.

Rising from the ashes that killed every demon in my nations.

Rescued by the light of he who rode the wind of fate.

Breaking an oath to give every perfect story a-

 "HAPPY ENDING!"

 
~SKAT~

Details | Environment Poem | |

Karma

Karma


Thousands left their shells behind
As Planet Earth rebelled
Against the ways of human kind
Who in their greed have dwelled
With logic gone they rip asunder
Our lovely planet Earth
Digging holes ten miles deep
And taking all it’s worth.

They blow up bombs beneath our oceans
What foolishness is this???
That human beings have earned some Karma
It cannot be dismissed.
Now the sea has taken all those folk
In its salty cool embrace.
The hand of fate, she looks on down
With vengeance on her face.

She says “Mankind you never learn
So I make your poor lives tough
Then you might treat Earth with respect
For me, I’ve had enough”
So, many die in agony
For the weight of mankind’s sins
As our Planet, cracked and torn asunder
Sends out its mighty din.

As a man once sang some years ago
When will we ever learn?
When will we learn that when one acts
Then Karma one must earn.
There have been so many warnings
By wise men through the years
So now we reap just what we’ve sown
And swim within our tears.

Details | Environment Poem | |

Walking by the river

Walking by the river.

It was that kind of day
With the Spring Sun soft and warm
There was a kind of energy
That moved within my form
I could have walked the whole day long
As I felt me, natures pull
Oh Lord those river trails are beautiful.

I passed a group of roos
Who were grazing by the river
Some Parrots screeched above my head
And set my heart a quiver
And as those creatures gave their calls
A Kookaburra laughed
Oh how I love to walk that river path.

It was that kind of day
That you’d like to last for years
With the country air rich in my lungs
And my mind all calm and clear
I could have walked until I dropped
Along that river trail
Feeling good and living in the now.

16 September 2004

Details | Environment Poem | |

Alliteration For The Planet


Wonderful wonders woven within wild. 
Titillates theatrical tender thoughts
Consistently creation, contrives conservation concerns. 
Ecology evolves equations, entitling entities essence.
Empowering equality, enlarges existence.
Life lovingly leases Longevity.
Biodiversity braces, blatant brutal balding.
Deforestation, destruction devoid due definition.
People physically, plundering planet.
Prevalently procuring, products proscribed 
Pilfering practices producing poisonous pollutants.
Greenhouse gases generated, generously grievous.
Temperate temperature’s tempers tumultuous.
Creating Climate changes, causing catastrophes.
Planet purges peril predominately.
Preached, placid platitudes, politicians podiums paced.
loved lives logged listed lost.
Lacuna languished, lessons least learnt.
Losing Life lingers, listing leeward lazily.

Details | Environment Poem | |

A Room Full of Butterflies

Inspired by a Art gallery and a poem by Shelly.


A room full of  mottled multicolored butterflies
captured within a creative space
of artful design
to inspire and aspire
Flirt and flutter a delicate ballet
among the pot plants
A splash of color
an oasis
among a drab row of urban gray
The door is opened
and the butterflies are released to freedom
flying high above
lush green trees
in clear unblemished skies
floating like autumn fallen leaves
in a gentle breeze
painted Ladies
that rested on my heart for a while
and made it smile
bringing pleasure to my eye
A symbol of freedom and eternity
filling my dreams
with all the treasures of summer.




Peter Dome.copyright.2013. Sept.

Details | Environment Poem | |

STORMS

Fierce wind fans aghast! energy release Somber clouds aggregate longing deep cry. . . Rocket to train slam-bang sounds reign the skies! Acid bitter sky tears aged litter wry! Boogie titanic waves contest to flee! Lightning rocks like disco lights vivid trance! Giving birth to fearsome galore of storm. . . Minutes to hours brisk growing heavens' arms; Strongly ravaging placing things to harm Elevating flood seeping so expanse. . . Fascination gone, as groans and moans dawn ~ The storm brought death and stormy crashing thoughts, On humans and non-humans failing trot. They all tried to hold, tried harder and fought. . . Sun shines lightening the skies, hope steps on!
(c) OLive ELoisa 6:27pm June 28, 2014 CONTEST: STORMS SPONSOR: SHADOW HAMILTON placed 2nd.. to God be the greatest glory.. :D!

Details | Environment Poem | |

COSMIC



Above the skyline, watch me enthrall… torches of fire glitter in seamless motion an orange fist rolling in undefined numbers, heaven thick with round saw dusts some oblong, others just ringlets circling through Mother Earth's trapeze, like crystal fibrils wheeling,darting… Yet in relays, my limbs do not collide with space each of them holding an alchemy, while millions are unnamed, untamed, unattained. Tell me, how many other bodies have i sired where heat or water resides? Prophets say it will take light years to touch my face and climb into this house… And if gods live among my gleaming blobs I want to know how you can reach me should breaths topple on fading lights. My contour swells far into clouds open to keep glazed pellets from devouring my eyes… the wind, the elements swarm inside me as I watch your heartbeat pulsate,enthralled!

Details | Environment Poem | |

Flowing like a river

Thought this one deserved another chance

As the river flows

As the river flows
So surely to the sea
It’s power be a wondrous sight
As it roams the land so free
The path of no resistance
Is how she lives each day
I will learn from this old river
I need to live this way.

As the river flows
She takes all in her stride
Not dogged by expectations
Not held back by her pride
She flows into the ocean
She knows this be her home
She has no need to hurry
She’s just content to roam.

Oh, I’ll be like that river
That’s how I’ll live my life
All free from fear and worry
Until my time is rife
To join that mighty ocean
All filled with sweet devotion.

As the river flows
And things get in her way
She knows to never struggle
Just flows from day to day
And lets the power take her
To where she needs to go
Her softness melts all obstacles
Albeit, oh so slow.

Details | Environment Poem | |

Seasons and Imaginations


Wind so cold.
Blowing.
Fondles my face.
Tickling.
The tears from heaven.
Pouring. 
Tapping. 
Dancing.
Unrelenting.
I wonder if i wish
    to stop them
From numbness,
    to waking,
          then sensing.

The little voice in me says,
Wait, don't go.
Stay a little longer. I plead.
Sing for me today, rain.
With the gliding rhythm on my piano,
                                                  I'll play.
Chilly Wind, caress my bare skin 
     with the pure coldness that you bring.
Unusual,
     like it's my first time in the snow.
Somehow, 
     the fire tree never fades in the picture.
The yellow sunkissed leaves, too.
What is it about Summer and Fall
    that I can't forget?
Memories. Sweet imaginations.

The chilly rain. The misty wind.
You are here. 
Freeze me with the sharp coldness you give.
Calm me. Maybe, comfort me.
And, if you leave
Will you visit me when summertime comes?
Before it gets too late
   And again I fold.



Details | Environment Poem | |

Journey to Spirit Mountain

Minter Bridge Road to Burkhalter Lane
Alpaca farms dot the hilly terrain, baby llamas
Wear thick curly fur, until the shears come
They look really funny when the fur is all gone

From the top of Chehalem, a significant drop down
Now into Newberg a quaint little town
Velvet moss cloaks the ivy in emerald green
Entwined through a forest of Juniper trees

On to Spirit Mountain, Grand Rhonde’s old legend
Where old spirits dwell, their holiness beckons
It’s best to go slow in a horse powered engine, that
Would have impressed the Pony Express, the
Ghosts of Rogue River's tribes of Kalapuya
Smoking peace pipes in wigwams
On the banks of Nestucca 






KA/ 2003

Note:  A place where you can truly feel the old spirits dwell. Kalapuya (Calapooya) means “wealthy way of life”. A semi-nomadic people who lived in permanent winter villages (near present day Portland, Oregon) and traded with their neighbors of Northern California, Oregon Coast and Columbia River tribes.

Details | Environment Poem | |

VISITING OUR LAND DOWNUNDER

written 28th June 2013


The place downunder, I'm happy to call my home
 if you plan on a visit, here's somethings you do "need" to know

Kakadu is a place 'you' need to take the time to see
 such magic you will never won't to leave

But...if your arms "outside" the boat...
It...WILL end up down, a crocodiles throat

 Ayres rock...is a must place to have on your list, simply this you can not miss
As the sun descends watch it's colours change, you'll be mesmerised by 'pure' bliss

Coober Pedy...for those slightly intrigued with the underground
 for it is here, a quiet town where all there house's are found

Ballarat...you can still find gold
Well... so I've been told

I recommend...."you" don't swim in the oceans at the top end..
 surrounded by oceans.... the rest, feel free to  jump in

"BUT" if you happen to see a 'fin' I highly 'recommend' you swim

With nights call..'when' offered pull up a chair, grab a beer and relax
 there's just....'one small' catch 

Don't ever be the 'first' to fall "asleep"
 Aussie's find 'extensive' pleasure in an innocent prank when asleep

Enjoy your stay....and from the Land downunder we 'all' say "G'day"
 and look forward to seeing you again, we know you had a great stay


Details | Environment Poem | |

Guardian Of The Environment - Indigenous Peoples

For several thousands of years
you upheld the sacredness of Nature
avoiding wanton destruction 
of plant and animal life
taking only what you needed
since their sacredness was 
just as important to you
as the sacredness of humanity

When harvesting wild rice for food
you let some fall into the water
to produce crops for the future
Surrounding a pack of wild sheep
while hunting in the mountains
you let a male and female escape
so by their reproductive process
they would ensure the
continuation of their species

You saw yourself as part of Nature
living in harmony with it
and not plundering it with greed
Your religion was to respect Nature
viewing all plants and animals
as parts of its magnificent fabric
Abuse of a part of it was
an abuse of the whole

Your way of life 
provides valuable lessons
that can teach mankind how 
to deal with today's ecological crisis
that threatens the survival 
of all life on the planet
You were the genuine
Guardian of the Environment



I have always admired the way of life of the Native American Indians living in harmony with Nature before the advent of the Europeans. By extension, this applies to all indigenous peoples including the Amerindians and Polynesians. This piece is dedicated to them. 

Details | Environment Poem | |

The Cancer Industry


here in our country,
people suffer in cancer.
it's industrial prism.
no one can't get away.
one has hired just last year,
then see what it'll turn.
 after three trimesters,
a new life will appear.
this pandemic illness.
of somebody's flesh.
cling to one another's,
set an immoral quest.
this world has carried over,
with the hand of a beasts.
and he who obeys him,
will taste the sweetness of defeat.
single or married women,
can be fell on this trap.
inside the cave of a lion,
all its wanted is lust.
people using people,
rulers must play their role.
to stop filling the bowl of trash.



Aiyah_025

philosophical

Entry poem for :Giorgio V.'s Impress me with a small poem V (Yay)

** 2nd Place Winner**