Miasma

The world is a paradise, a magnificent melange of desert and forest, ocean and mountain, of birds in flight amid cotton clouds and symphonies of flowers carpeting God's green earth. But we are the Outsiders, WE are the conflicted species, never happy for long, never done. So we war with ourselves-- then... we war with the other. We deny we wear the same coat, share the same mind, feel with the same heart. We hate--- when loving is easier. We are so blind yet are sure we can see. Our nature, our ever so human nature, is a miasma we never seem to escape.

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.

Please Login to post a comment

Elaine George

Date: 5/26/2020 3:10:00 PM

This is especially true in light of where we are today as a human race. Congratulations on your well deserved top-notch placement. Sincerely ~ Elaine

L. J. Carber
Date: 5/27/2020 11:10:00 AM

Ah, sadly true,Eliane-- thank you~

Geoffrey Brewer

Date: 6/24/2018 8:33:00 AM

And yet we perceive the world as a paradise (at least you and I do), whereas an alien from an alien world might see it as a hell. So if we can have such an idealistic consideration, does that not make our ideals and thus aspirations good? The miasma May infest some, but all?? Effective and stimulating poem, Len.

L. J. Carber
Date: 6/24/2018 2:45:00 PM

Thanks Geoff-- but yes, I think we-- because of our peculiar human nature, somewhere between beast and God-- will always as a species come up short of the best we could be. Believe me, I wish it were otherwise, but history bears this out, time and time and time again....