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Environment Poem
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Mr Rich man
What’s going to happen? Mr money
When there’s not a tree around
And the Earth it gets to crumbling
Through those big holes in the ground
And the force of bomb blasts neath the sea
All those poisons that you spew
What’s going to happen then? What will you do?
What’s the good of all your money?
And what good then your power
The poor folk they may take it well
But I bet you’ll just cower
For what good all this worthless wealth
When nothing else be near
Except the weight of all your ugly fear
Mr Money, have you ever seen
The mystery of a flower
Have you listened to dawn-chorus
With all its benign power
Have you felt the essence in the air
Although you’ve poisoned it bit
And life. Well have you fell in love with it
Taken from my archives this one written in nineteen eighty
Copyright © Peter Duggan | Year Posted 2017
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Environment Poem
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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 guilt
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?"
__________________________________________________________
Your Best Poem - Poetry Contest
Sponsor Shadow Hamilton
~~3rd place~~
Free Verse, Prose Poetry, haibun - Poetry Contest
Sponsor Debbie Guzzi
~~2nd Place~~
POEM OF THE DAY: October 21, 2015
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
Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo - Fraser | Year Posted 2014
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Environment Poem
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You were born in a specialist clinic
I was born at the front door of my house
we both came into this world and survived.
You’ve been eating foreign cuisines and expensive delicacies
I’ve been taking porridge and traditional soups
we both have grown and are a significant part of the society.
You go to school in Jeeps and exotic vehicles
I use public transport and finish it up with a walk
we both went to learning institutions and acquired knowledge.
You roll with the high and mighty and get a super model married
I’m surrounded by the middle class
and marries one never will be in Wikipedia
we both are active in the food chain and wonderfully living our lives.
You become a CEO or rather own a firm
I get employed by you to run your empire
we both sure need each other to function and drive.
Gold and Diamonds will decorate the casket of your funeral
mine may not even be worthy of a coffin, just a plain box
we’ll nevertheless be dead and our chapter closed without preference.
It is only a pathology when the eye gets larger than its socket,
comparison cuts the muscles of esteem and gives greed a new suit,
making simplicity a very complex attribute to attain
and a life full of complexities a better friend to existence.
Life is simple, we just make it complicated.
A civil servant wants to live at par with a tycoon
allowing his throat tie down the strength of his hands.
Every destination has different roads,
be it the highway or a rocky path.
Take the one within your speed limit,
the timing may show some reaching before or better than others
but the most important thing is, the destination reached
as achievement is decorated while life stay simple.
Copyright © Funom Makama | Year Posted 2015
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Environment Poem
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~It's a Beautiful Day~
Under every star,
A smile waltz-like no other
Once a simple cherry blossom girl,
enjoying puppets and lullabies.
Sitting in front of the screen
Anxiously waiting for him to come in
through the front door, whistling a song,
trading a suit jacket, for a zippered sweater;
made with love. ---My day just got better---
***It's a beautiful day***
In a charming little town square
A servant, serving a friendly atmosphere
Welcome to the land of make-believe,
where all my friends are real.
Here comes the speedy delivery
Mr. McFeely and his letters.
Prancing puppet skin in love with
Beautiful Lady Aberlin.
Henrietta, a mighty and feisty pussycat
My favorite strings are the king and queen
Before the show ends, Trolley's a friend
tooting around from make-believe to reality.
***It's was a beautiful day***
Oh the innocence of my childhood,
My neighborhood is gone
By: PD
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2016
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Environment Poem
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Twice a month on our tiny little Isle
A group of heroes go that extra mile
Wearing protective clothing they clean the beach
Removing vast amounts of rubbish within their reach
Plastic bottles, fast food containers and tins
Items tossed away so thoughtlessly – it’s a sin
So many marine animals can get tangled in discarded plastic
They need our protection, or the results could be very drastic
Hundreds of bin bags of rubbish are removed from our beach
Restoring them to beauty, now they are as pretty as a peach
Volunteers work tirelessly with amazing solidarity
To help ‘Beach Buddies’ which is a registered charity
Contest: Stuff Thomas Martin
10th June 2015
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2015
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Environment Poem
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~Planet of the apes~
Ape should inherit the world
Perhaps --maybe, just maybe!
Earth has a chance
~*~
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2015
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Environment Poem
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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 as 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
Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2014
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Environment Poem
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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
Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo - Fraser | Year Posted 2015
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Environment Poem
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...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
Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014
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Environment Poem
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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!!
Copyright © john fleming | Year Posted 2015
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Environment Poem
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Time’s ticking for whooping cranes,
wild buffalo and prairie dogs.
For their losses outweigh their gains,
displaced by cattle, sheep, and hogs.
The elephant and the blue whale,
may share the fate of the dodo.
For both their lives are endangered,
like the dragons of Komodo.
Alligator and crocodile,
tread the fringes of extinction.
And the California condor’s
future hangs on its distinction.
Baby seals are slaughtered for fur,
and otters for the fish they eat.
Lions and tigers entertain us,
and are routinely starved and beat.
In sanitized utopias,
we plant the occasional tree.
Yet, in our plastic paradise,
there's few animals left to see.
Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2015
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Environment Poem
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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.
Copyright © Lindsay Laurie | Year Posted 2014
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Environment Poem
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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
Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo - Fraser | Year Posted 2015
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Environment Poem
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Awaking blithe each morning,
with eyes upon the World,
I wonder, are we mourning
with ebon flags unfurled -
or are they but a warning,
some draped like snakes and curled,
stark stars and stripes adorning,
sent from the netherworld.
I wander through the garden
with nothing on my mind
and say 'I beg your pardon'
alarmed at what I find
as winds begin to harden
and sounds begin to grind.
Confused, I watch my neighbours,
they're wide-eyed, unafraid
to halt all useful labours
and join the death brigade;
the ritters rattle sabres,
the frail and fragile fade,
morticians tap on tabors
while potentates parade.
The military blesses
(in tunics somewhat browned)
its crimson-stained successes,
hell bent and heaven bound;
such scenes don't dare distress us:
a bloody battleground,
dissevered heads with tresses
and arms and legs abound;
the fourth estate suppresses
that bodies have been found
(collateral excesses
discarded in a mound).
Society regresses,
now living by the sword,
with torture and its stresses
upon a waterboard;
a captive kid confesses,
his innocence ignored -
fallacious facts and guesses,
the guts of justice gored!
With canting vindication
a top brass bully brags
(pale pearls of perspiration
and swollen tongue that gags)
of third world subjugation
for gelt and oily swags,
of human rights' castration...
and on and on it drags.
The manifold migration
of refugees in rags
while searching for salvation
soon finds compassion lags;
uprooted populations
are fleeing from their flags
else dying of starvation
as piercing hunger nags.
Atomic timepiece ticking
until the Reaper comes
when Geiger counters clicking
drown out the droning drums;
wild trump card's politicking
with little hands, all thumbs,
and sends the Mad Dog siccing -
insane! my soul succumbs...
Cast out for not conforming,
I wander day by day
and find the earth deforming
as nature wastes away,
with bees no longer swarming
deceased in poison spray,
and ocean depths transforming
with plastic underlay.
With CO2 performing
the climate's led astray,
the atmosphere's been warming
the grass now ashen gray,
eternal tempest's storming
while permafrosts decay,
and ozone holes are forming
in deadly disarray.
The people profiteering
descend a slip'ry slope
destroying, never fearing
of running out of rope;
instead they're cheer'fly cheering
that wealth's our only hope.
Now Armageddon's nearing,
it's doubtful that we'll cope
for Mother Nature's jeering,
she's mapped our horoscope:
we'll soon be disappearing...
like whale and antelope.
Epitaph
The storms around me rumble,
my back's against the wall,
I take a step and stumble
but find no place to fall,
my knees begin to crumble
but I refuse to crawl,
nobody hears me mumble,
for no one's there at all.
Date: 2/14/2017
Copyright © Terry O'Leary | Year Posted 2017
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Environment Poem
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I awake to the beautiful plaintive strains
Of a violin - then realize it’s just in my head
Just a dream - a shame to find
I’m in the hospital - same room - same bed
The monotonous ticking of the clock on the wall
Time, an indefinite progress of my existence
Time for my pills, time to call the nurse
Time not on my side, breaking down my resistance
After lunch a quick nap
Then the visiting hour I dread most of all
Seeing pity in their eyes, they wish me back
To what I was before my withdrawal
The world of music - my life - my love
The fame and fortune that once was mine
Exhilarating - Intoxicating, a wife at my side
With children sharing the Glory Divine
I lived it - I breathed it
Plucked at its very soul
The core of its existence in my hands
Like a faithful servant it played its role
I look at the painting on the wall
A feeling of Déjà vu enters it seems
I’ve seen this glade of lush green plants
And these sparkling bubbling streams
I remember drawing back watching afar
An Angel who danced in its midst
Who danced with wild abandon
Her hair that the sun had kissed
I remember wishing I could dance with her
With this Angel from above
A hundred birds would sing out loud
To watch us Dance to Love
But it’s just a painting - There’s no girl there
And I’m just a sick old man
Wallowing in my grief and sadness
Existing however best I can
What’s this I’m suddenly in the glade?
A young strong man once more
She has come for me, my Angel love
I leap - I twirl - I soar
The world I’ve left behind
Unshackled my attachments of
A hundred birds do sing out loud
To watch us Dance to Love
We dance with wild abandon
We dance without a care
With sun kissed skin our arms entwined
Wild flowers in our hair
Footnote:
We do not know for sure if my Father – who was a great violinist and classical musician, had imagined this story when he was a young man, when he chanced on a young girl dancing in the glade. It’s a story he told us many times and we loved to believe it.
I like to imagine a fitting finale to the first story, when his time came and have pictured it in this poem.
Copyright © Maria Williams | Year Posted 2017
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Environment Poem
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E yeing the majesty and magnificence in the great gifts of God's
C reations affects me in the most reflective way. The moon and
S tars provide light in my darkest nights, and the beauty of snow-
T opped mountain peaks makes me gasp in wonder. A golden sunrise
A cross green valleys is as resplendent a vision as the moments before
S unset, when its magenta drowning symbolizes another day is done.
Y ielding to time, I pause in awe of His splendors; totally entranced.
6/28/16
Ecstasy Acrostic
John Hamilton
Copyright © Marti Sutherland | Year Posted 2016
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Environment Poem
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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~
Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2011
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Environment Poem
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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
.
.
Copyright © Gene Bourne | Year Posted 2014
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Environment Poem
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Wonderful wonders woven within wild.
Titillates theatrical tender thoughts
Consistently creation, contrives conservation concerns.
Ecology evolves equations, entitling entities essence.
Empowering equality, enlarges existence.
Life lovingly leases Longevity.
Biodiversity braces, blatant brutal balding.
Deforestation, destruction devoid due definition.
People physically, plundering planet.
Prevalently procuring, products proscribed
Pilfering practices producing poisonous pollutants.
Greenhouse gases generated, generously grievous.
Temperate temperature’s tempers tumultuous.
Creating Climate changes, causing catastrophes.
Planet purges peril predominately.
Preached, placid platitudes, politicians podiums paced.
loved lives logged listed lost.
Lacuna languished, lessons least learnt.
Losing Life lingers, listing leeward lazily.
Copyright © Sam Raj | Year Posted 2014
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Environment Poem
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For several thousands of years
you upheld the sacredness of Nature
avoiding wanton destruction
of plant and animal life
taking only what you needed
since their sacredness was
just as important to you
as the sacredness of humanity
When harvesting wild rice for food
you let some fall into the water
to produce crops for the future
Surrounding a pack of wild sheep
while hunting in the mountains
you let a male and female escape
so by their reproductive process
they would ensure the
continuation of their species
You saw yourself as part of Nature
living in harmony with it
and not plundering it with greed
Your religion was to respect Nature
viewing all plants and animals
as parts of its magnificent fabric
Abuse of a part of it was
an abuse of the whole
Your way of life
provides valuable lessons
that can teach mankind how
to deal with today's ecological crisis
that threatens the survival
of all life on the planet
You were the genuine
Guardian of the Environment
I have always admired the way of life of the Native American Indians living in harmony with Nature before the advent of the Europeans. By extension, this applies to all indigenous peoples including the Amerindians and Polynesians. This piece is dedicated to them.
Copyright © john beharry | Year Posted 2013
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Environment Poem
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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
Copyright © Rob Biden | Year Posted 2014
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Environment Poem
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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
Copyright © Demetrios Trifiatis | Year Posted 2015
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Environment Poem
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Our supposed modern scientific genius
May in fact just be our last fatal weakness.
This technological house of cards we've made
Left humanity walking along the edge of a razor blade.
How much could you buy or sell using debit or credit
If someone or something wiped out the internet.
A computer virus, terrorists, hackers, or an E.M.P.--
Will wipe out our hard-earned wealth eventually.
Killing beneficial insects is almost like fratricide.
Think really hard again about ever using insecticide.
How many fields of vegetable plants and fruit trees
Will ever bear fruit if there are no more bees.
Rather than organically producing more living topsoil,
We're killing what remains with chemicals derived from oil.
As chemical contaminants follows their downward motions,
Choral reefs and plankton are dying in the oceans.
As a species, we've all become germ-o-phobic neurotics,
Religiously trying to kill all microbes with antibiotics.
But pharmaceutical medicine will never defeat every bug,
So one of these days there's certain to be a super plague.
So will we all starve because we cannot buy or sell,
Or because the oceans and farmlands have all gone to Hell?
Will we be extinguished by some invincible virus?
What ever it be, the fault will probably lie in us!
I wish I could offer some brilliant inspired solution,
But remember that extinction is also a part of evolution.
You may write me off as some kind of nutty alarmist,
But people that know me consider me to be an optimist.
Copyright © Mark J. Halliday | Year Posted 2016
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Environment Poem
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In the dreary tune of a city's groan,
when streets escape the raging claws
of haggard breaths, a line of stars blink
trading some warmth with human arms...
beyond sighing notes the dusk possesses,
there are more wrists handcuffed on tainted
steel of unjust labor for children and women
who toil beyond midnight hours.
A single violin strain bites the screeches
of grief and pain, of humanity rendered
in ruins wrapped in tattered gauze: outlines
of freezing shapes coiling in fetal postures,
and they drink of yesterday’s broth, wandering,
wishing if one brooding star can soften the
pain along fences of life where mangled lungs
cry in despise.
Yet, the candle burns inside their hearts
to feed dire hunger of jailed souls
as the will to plod an inner odyssey blazes,
searching for some need to give this slavery
a voice: that birthright of freedom and choice
ordained by one divine, universal law...
the kind that fires the oneness of all mornings.
.............................
Cyndi MacMillan's I Can't Breathe... Contest
by nette onclaud
~ Currently, the Human Rights of many women
and children are violated in Asia.
There are women who are victims of sexual exploitation
under military dictatorship, and children who become
involved in human trafficking and are forced to work.
~http://hrn.or.jp/eng/g-activity/activista/
Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2014
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Details |
Environment Poem
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My pulse is weak; it flutters while I plead
for air to give my lungs a chance to breathe.
Abuse must stop, or soon my heart will bleed.
My virgin flesh despoiled and robbed for greed,
in pain I cringe and hide my face in shame.
My pulse is weak; it flutters while I plead.
Entwined in thorns, I’m begging to be freed.
My lips are dry; they thirst for kiss of life.
Abuse must stop, or soon my heart will bleed.
These ailing limbs, unwilling to concede
defeat, as vibrant echoes numb the mind.
My pulse is weak; it flutters while I plead.
Mankind is blind, appears to take no heed.
The soul is lost and time is running out.
Abuse must stop, or soon my heart will bleed.
On verge of suffocation, I’m in need
of love and hope to sprout from hidden seed.
My pulse is weak; it flutters while I plead.
Abuse must stop, or soon my heart will bleed.
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Contest: Screwed V ~ August 2015
Sponsor: Rob Carmack
Placed 5th
Contest: Villanelle's and Terzanelle's Only
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
21st June 2015 ~ NA
Copyright © Paul Callus | Year Posted 2015
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