Repristination
My eyes were hooked on to the West
Feasting on the riot of colors the sun had cast
I stood dazed at an experience blest
That any poet would treasure with zest
By chance I glanced at the river below
It moved like an overloaded carriage slow
With floating weeds and dirty rubbish
Reminding one of an ugly heap of trash
I saw partially submerged bottles bobbing on the surface
Gradually filling with dirty water perforce
And slowly sinking down to rest in peace
With their sunken brethren at the river base
Spill of oil glistened iridescent
On the face of the river florescent
Its water was far from clean
And had turned into murky green
On the still surface was a layer of scum
Like rancid butter annoying anyone’s calm
Reeking smell of rotten fish and mulch
Entered my nostrils with an obnoxious stench
I closed my eyes and turned my head
And looked away from the river bed
I thought of man’s callous audacity
In assaulting Nature’s pristine vitality
I heard the river’s rising lament
And me it did acutely torment
I felt it was clamoring for repristination
And inviting man’s commiseration
Any sensitive soul would be left grieving
Seeing the river in such agony heaving
In the far horizon, the sky had grown into flames
I wondered if Nature was mad at man’s tall claims
March.13.2023
~ Placed First~
Pick a title, Vol.35. Poetry Contest
Sponsor. Edward Ibeh
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