David Crandall | + Follow Poet |
Rhyme | + Fav Poem | Comment | Email | Print |

After the Flood

There is a story in the wind
Of Mother Nature's son
And her retribution 
For the mad path that he'd begun.

Of all her creatures big and small,
Just one caused her worry.
His intrusion and arrogance
Unleashed a fearful fury.

Usurping Mother Nature's role,
Done nicely through the ages,
Man brutally took her children 
And put them into cages.

It's only Man would tell a lie,
Or kill, not just to eat,
Finding anything to fight about,
This, the creature on two feet.

Crying copious tears of rage
And shouting angry thunder,
Mother flashed lightning and a flood
Which wayward Man drowned under. 

From the peaceful quietude arose
A world in harmony,
The remaining creatures joining 
In sweet polyphony.

Now, Mother Nature smiled and laughed,
Giving the earth a quake,
But there were no manmade structures,
And nothing left to break.

Once in a while, she would miss her son 
And cry a couple tears, 
Refreshing daisies in the breeze
Before the sun reappears.

The birds, breezes, and brooks sang songs 
Much better than a man's speech,
As he once persuaded and controlled,  
When for attention he'd beseech.

There was no need to analyze, 
No need to judge or name.
Whatever you might call something,
It was still the same.

Now, in paradise, not a single creature missed
Man and his words because,
Without Him, troubles disappeared, 
And everything just was.

Yet, somehow, something seemed slightly strange
With no one to behold,
And no one to wonder and ask "why", 
And watch the world unfold.

Waves lapped on a moonlit beach
For no sweethearts' ear and eye.
Roses still bloomed in a meadow 
Without lovers to stroll by.  

Dogs ran and jumped and picked up sticks 
For no man to give them to.
Buzzing Bees still made their honey 
Without biscuits to spread their glue.

There were beautiful birds, bright and blue,
But nary a dad to say 
To a son, just learning to walk,
My boy, that's a bluejay. 

There were forests green and foreboding, 
Where a careless child might play,
Yet not any Hansel n Gretal, 
no child to lose his way. 

Birds still sang their sweet melodies 
With no poet there to hear.
Planets spun, the orbits unknown, of each 
Celestial sphere.

Imagine a theatre where movies play
In front of empty seats, 
Or clocks that forever keep perfect time, 
Yet, there are no dinner dates.

A wedding in a vacant church 
Seen by no guest's eyes,
A ballerina's breathtaking dance, 
While no one sees and cries.

A record playing in an endless loop,
In a deserted room for years, 
Messages sent by NASA returned,
Falling upon deaf ears.

This is the somber story, children, 
Of what may one day be.
If Man continues on this mad path,
There is no guarantee

Of a future for each lass or lad -
If we make our Mother Nature mad.

Copyright © David Crandall | Year Posted 2024

Please Login to post a comment