Below is the poem entitled WHEN NATURE DIES which was written by poet
Crisci. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.
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Pioneers had to cut down thousands of trees
to build their shacks and to stay warm
in harsh winters; we cut them down
for huge profits...not caring about
the devastation of deforestation
that soon will cause floods and landslides.
When Nature dies, everything that embellishes
the lovely and green landscapes dies with it;
a land without shrubs and trees is a desert
with miles of cracked soil that rain won't saturate
and make vegetation grow to attract humans,
fauna and flora to make everything lively.
I have used my keen sight to describe it,
and instinct to anticipate the dreariness to come;
doesn't joy derive from something grown,
and beauty from something seen and admired?
But where's the commitment that all should make
to keep our land a Paradise for everyone to enjoy?
We should profoundly lament when Nature dies from neglect
and abuse...hear the sorrowful cries of fowls and wolves,
of other animals that used to roam and graze
on prairies and wild meadows on breezy days;
and how can we survive without the crops
in due season? Won't we perish and disappear like Nature?