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THE ENVIRONMENT TOSSERS by Ashton, Darryl
Toxic Environment by Chidiac, Collin
A product of my Environment by JAVED, HASAN
Testing Environment by Hinchman, Emily
IN ENVIRONMENT by Devnath, BL
Guardian Of The Environment - Indigenous Peoples by beharry, john
The Environment, My Home by Mala, Nsah
Environment pollution by Andalib, Asif
Save Environment-w by Mehta, Dr.Ram
No Environment, No Life by Sahay, Nekhel

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The Best Environment Poems

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

More great poems below...


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 | |

Industrial Nature

Ride the railway, passing the water tower,
Painted production high like a sun flower.
Howls of the engine, hooting as an owl in the night.
Buildings are the trees that come into sight.
Structured stone the jungle, vines the electric cable,
Survival of the fittest, one must be strong and able.
Wildlife runs on rubber, headlights the hunters eyes,
Camouflage the chaos among the concrete lies.
Chemical clouds collect to make shapes in the sour sky,
Blade of helicopters and wings of airplanes birds fly.
The complexity of industry echoes in the acidic air,
Beast hide in plain sight, protection of their lair.
 There is beauty in the broken, birth in the breathless blur.
 When the railway train passes through the industrial nature.


March 23, 2015

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

More great poems below...


Details | Environment Poem | |

Carpet of Colour

The long years are harsh where the hot sun does burn
on the sand hills and plains when seasons won’t turn
where saltbush and samphire do somehow survive
and through these hot days there seems little alive.

But shade in the she-oaks can offer relief
for creatures surviving who still hold belief
the outback’s not dying though is tinder dry…
then cotton-wool clouds start to build in the sky.

And when it gets humid and balmy at night
the sunrise is red with the new dawning light
and leaves get up dancing and float on the breeze
ants start to scurry and thunder does tease.

There’s change on the way and a scent in the air
and storm birds are singing to make all aware
that drought may be over and soon there’ll be rain
the outback will flourish ‘til drought comes again.

Now pastel pink earth starts to darken to red
as it quenches it’s thirst on the deluge ahead
the creek beds awake from their slumber for years
and billabongs form behind quick rising weirs.

The pans and the lowlands are holding their fill
and outstation tanks are now starting to spill
so comes a new dawn from a heartbreaking scene
when almost like magic the land turns to green.

Where a land is vindictive and can be unkind
where water is life, and with man undermined
where vastness is changing from sleeping repose
the buds are now bursting and now they disclose…

…a rainbow that travels so long with the eye
in a landscape rebirth, to thanks from the sky
I’m taking a stroll through a live daisy chain 
in a carpet of colour that follows the rain.

Details | Environment Poem | |

DERELICT BEAUTY

DERELICT BEAUTY Below drape of cotton clouds and sunshine, some red-purple live pendants embrace the tall breathless wall... ________________________________ Sponsor: Debbie Guzzi Contest Name: Three Line Poetry Placed 5th O.E. Guillermo 6:24 pm, March 15, 2015

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


.

.

 

Details | Environment Poem | |

YES I AM

YES I AM
I am that tall,good and kind man
I have the longest legs on earth
I am the fastest man on earth
I am deaf and dumb
My eyes lead me like a sheep and its lamb
I am very curious but,
very time conscious
I am jobless
I am homeless
I always thirst for water
I always need a good Samaritan
Despite my state,
I am the world's priority
People suffer a fate
But need me to be free
I am he everyone awaits to make a mirth
I go to anyone who is willing 
All I need is caring
Everybody needs me
But I come without acknowledging me

I come I come
I stand at your door
Open and welcome me with a kiss
When you delay,I make a hiss
The next scene, I turn my back to the door
There you will miss

Don't try opening
For I am time conscious
Don't try calling
For I am deaf and dumb
Don't try following
For I have the longest legs on earth
Don't try chasing
For I am the fastest man on earth
I come to make you mirth
But you can choose to be in dearth

I came I came
I stood at your door
You welcomed me wonderfully
But you made me sit on the floor
You left me and forgot to close the door
I moved out slowly
Upon your return,
You didn't see me
You forgot I am time conscious
I saw someone ready
So went there because I was curious

You tried calling
But forgot I am  deaf and dumb
You tried following
But forgot I have the longest legs on earth
You tried chasing
But forgot I am the fastest man on earth
I came to make you mirth
But you chose to be in dearth

I stood at your door
You welcomed me wonderfully
You made me sit comfortably
But refused to give me water when I was thirsty
You left me and forgot to close the door
Upon your return,
You didn't see me

You tried calling
But forgot I am deaf and dumb
You tried following
But forgot I have the longest legs on earth
You tried chasing me
But forgot I am the fastest man on earth
I came to make you mirth
But you chose to be in dearth

I stood at his door
He welcomed me with a kiss
He closed the door,
gave me a place to sit comfortably,
gave me water to lessen my sore,
Prepared me a mutton
He made me eat like a glutton
He laid his spreadsheet on a bed
He gestured to me to lay my head
I slept until he received what he needed
He decided to keep me forever
Alas,I embark on a journey
Joy like a river flowed in his heart
He smiled while escorting me

Yes I am
I am the very person you needed
But I came and you took me for granted
I am the one you are awaiting
When I come, show me the caring
I am opportunity.

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 | |

MAN AND NATURE




Once Man,

Nature’s forgiveness implored,

For 

Crimes humanity has, against the environment

Committed 
 
 And

Sincerely, his serious concern expressed for the

Peril, the whole planet was in, because of

Man’s doing 


Nature, attentively, listened to every word, Man,

Wished so much to say, 

Then, turning towards him, with great emphasis 

Declared: 

“Worry not about me, my very dear child

For

Ample time to recover I would have, soon after 

Your upcoming disappearance 

Which

For long now, you, so thoughtlessly, have yourself 

arranged!”  




© Demetrios Trifiatis
     09 MARCH 2015

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 | |

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 | |

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 | |

HERE COMES SPRING

Here Comes Spring


They sit, waiting, fluffed birds on cold perch,
eyes pinched against winter’s harsh white
in defiance of the season’s bitter curse
holding still night’s frail and icy light.

Blanketed beneath soft downy quilt
potential undisturbed in earthen tomb
awaiting subtle shift of solstice tilt
to bathe in chilling waters flowing womb.

Awakened they push toward warming sun
soft buds that trumpet beauty’s soft reply
that Spring will see the nests and webs redone
nature’s essence seduce the butterfly.

The spinning color wheel of flowered glee
the scents and sounds of that we cannot see.



2/21/2015

Submitted – Flower Song – Poetry contest
sponsor –Rick Parise

Details | Environment Poem | |

Earth Day

~P lanet of the apes~

A pe should inherit the world
T hen maybe, just maybe!
E arth has a chance 




------------------------------------------------
((silly me, this is for the Captcha contest))
 PATE   (My last poetry comment captcha)

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 | |

IF GOD GIVES UP ON US

Open season
the games have begun
We be target practice
Shoot randomly 
no penalty

Kill at will
...if you will
Lives don't
matter to the people
you're chanting to

Kill for thrill  
new sport
Kill at will
...if you think
Lives matter 
watch the gavel...
justice not served

Makes no difference
if they get sacked
Big money got their backs
Now who has that kind if cash ?

Thumb twiddlers, sitting down
eyes watching God's moves
"God's gonna get them people"
That is what God said: He also
 said: "faith without works is dead'

Earth disturbers in combat boots
Serial killers with badges in blue suits
commissioned for this mission
rewarded with loot.

The makers of tragedies  on 9/11
twin towers. Afghanistan and 
the embassy in Kenya ..World Trade
Center and the list goes on..
By the way who's funding BOko Haram?
They have better weapons than the whole
Naja Militia.

Desensitized people, frightened and numb
Worldwide genocide irrespective of person
religion or gender.
When bombs go off, bodies drop 
buildings fall down.
What if the grid breaks?
What if he does not re-create 
anyone smart enough to fix it.?

Those people who one day 
gets paid, to kill those people, 
Who pays you to kill them people
and them people to kill you....

Somebody is paying people, 
to make less people
and paying people - 
to make less people etc...
until there is less people. 
Only the people on the left, 
are left.
And the leftover people. 

Then no more people left.
and the green grass grew all aroun all aroun ....
and the green grass grew all aroun

IF God Gives Up ON US...

What might he do, send us back into the 
black hole.Take the power back from the Sun?

Reverse the magnetic magnitude of the moon
There'll be no separation of day from
night, there'd be no more chances to get life right. 

If God gives up on us it would
serve us deserving. No intercession
for your transgressions.

Just send us back into oblivion;
Erase us like we had never come.?
Dauntless disobedience, and foul
acts mocking his earthly domain
Diverging from Gods plan
Ignoring truth, man abusing man.

What if God would wait
one million years before 
he launched another plan
and like the dinosaurs
we'd be - Just another species 
from ancient times and lands.

What if God gave up on us....

and sent us back into the 
dust, and the only memories 
left, would be the writings
in ancient books..
Ancient books no-one could decipher.

...and the green grass grew all aroun all aroun
and the green 

ghttp://www.addictinginfo.org/2015/01/20/black-homeless-man-sleeping-when-he-was-set-on-fire-by-white-teens-video/


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 | |

IN THE MEADOWS IS MY DREAM

IN THE MEADOWS IS MY DREAM Strolling, strolling we are in the meadow: airy and green where asters, dahlias, nod and wink passing their green With him by my side, the hours of dread and fear are gone His blue eyes speak: "we're a match in heaven, always green" Dandelion heads float like little parachutes while we walk, he spinning me round and round in the carpet of golds and green Eyes to eyes meet, no more words from A to Z, we need not speak for our heartbeats duet in vibrato of love so evergreen Afar we hear thumps of small feet and some thunder laughs, He and I turn round we behold our kids innocent and green Father God-- the author of love along blue feathers and yellow smile is watching over us in that vast green... _________________________________________________________________ 8:40 pm , April 24, 2015

Details | Environment Poem | |

Churchyard at Midnight

Twas darkness upon the quietly residing heath;
And deathly was the sullen red sandstone tower,
Standing gloomily inside the masons dry-stone walls
Amidst toppling granite slabs and the faded, wilting flower.

Solemn was the chime of the hollow, mournful bell
When tolling out on midnights grimly sombre  hour;
And thinly the swirling, unearthly mist
Did so wend abouts her silent, melancholic bower.

Where from a fronded yew of venerable years,
Besides ancient trunks of ivy-entwined gnarly oak,
A chilling screech from a sudden ghostly apparition -
Summoning upon waking resident souls did thus invoke!

For pale his form in soft white downy flight -
But none paler than that of me;
As across from the stream, held by an unblinking stare -
My shaky fears are transfixed so unnervingly!

Oh wise old feathered sage of long owl-lived age,
Unctuous incumbent of learned perch within black night,
Allow this the moment to calm my pounding heart...
And catch upon my fleeing thoughts - after such a wicked fright!!

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 | |

Revival

Bury your living
in shrouds curtain-crafted 
Deep in the earth
     beneath yellowed gardens
            seed and soil as dust
            stalks brittle as eggshell
     in bare-naked forests
            stumps for funeral seats 
            bones for decoration
Replenish, restore, return
Reunite with this forsaken goddess 
before she cannot rise again.

Details | Environment Poem | |

MOOSE IN HEADLIGHTS

 
King and keep, serene majesty.

The living wood detained from free wandering.
See, there, he grows root, trunk, a crown of branch,
darker than bark      felted, black ash.

More, a constellation un-starred
though there legend stands, unflinching,
with eyes of Polaris. 

Less, grace and strength displaced, 
regal giant with no miles to go,
hunted by deforestation 

and crossing paths of high speed apathy.






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~