Long Polluted Poems
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Hoping and praying for peace, and peace of mind.
The earth disturbers are busy.
They will not leave well enough alone.
They do not work in harmony with nature.
Their idea of balancing out the
Eco system is to destroy it.
The earth disturbers are busy...
We who are trying hard to survive.
Will not rest until calm is restored to the planet.
They run amuck defiling and slaying every creature.
Every tree every lake, stream and river.
The earth disturbers are causing havoc
and smile at each successful misdeed.
Smiling at the ocean polluted.
Smiling at the elephant slayed;
Smiling at every tusk grabber,
at every dead whale, smiling at every abused child;
The earth disturbers are rejoicing.
For every human that falls prey to their wickedness.
The earth is bleeding.
People are dying for naught.
The whirlwind has been summoned.
Love has been abandoned for power and control.
By this depletion, pain is inflicted daily;
Vanity and, insanity is the order of the day.
Vainly misconstrued evil will be washed away.
With such a shaky foundation the destructive
arrogance of the earth disturbers,
is appearing everywhere.
OPEN APOLOGIES TO CHINA
My sincere apologies to the nation China.
Light Dawns when there's illumination, situations becomes clearer.
I have stained your flag,
Disdain your land and given you a tag:
"Populated poisonously polluted people",
Gradually the world begin to see the real evil.
Sorry for the woundable worrying words
Targeted at you but we know the odds.
Vocable virucidal venomous attacks
Your whole land has taken while on the tracks.
Here comes the time to jettison wrong accusation
That isn't validated by a misconception,
Especially when the four beasts bible prophesied begins to show up,
Wuhan being a testing ground for 5G and Corona is sad enough.
Let's hope for the prevailing of God's agenda.
Accept my sincere apologies China.
VickWizzy
Copyright © 13th April, 2020.
These dreams are yours these dreams are mine
Yet misery seems to be this poor mans only paradise
Reality seems to be the only place to hide
Trying to make the best of what I have
This is my life’s engraved path
No mercy in tears
Only sympathy if you’re worthy of fears
Some one shake me from these seizures
I’m constantly burning of statistical leisure’s
Bed time story’s, kisses from head to foot
Anyway, you want to please her
Given age, I was born from a rapist
Forced upon passion, as an infant in a wound
How can I escape this?
Simply exposed to this diluted area
You never know, she could’ve recruited malaria
Possibilities that her insides polluted, scaring her
My collarbones hurt, the thought of rubbing a loser
Growing up a substance abuser
Strapped with intoxicated lungs and a low self-esteem
The tools needed for this living
all I have left are dreams
Trying to get by on less than minimum wage
Drooling over paper
like there is cinnamon on this page
I could be a heart ache
or I could be apart of the break
Cold water in my eyes, what ever it takes to wake
Bread crumbs in my left hand, I choose to give or try
Given life I’m only promised to die
Pencil in hand, thoughts bloating my brain
By gods’ grace, I have been scared with pain
Only washing my face when it rains
And most of the time, the skies release hail
So now I’m wondering to where will I prevail
A selfless act from a wealthy man
is usually a filthy hand
Should I live or should I die,
give a small sacrifice, and try
Forever I dream of heavens door
And if I should go
I want no tears to show
Forever dreaming of your saviors doors
I've had my fill of the surface scene for now.
Navigating this new age mania and tectonic indifference.
I'm sailing underground to anchor up in glia monster town.
They're all poisonous down here but mostly harmless.
They flash colors, so you know where you stand
There's a steep learning curve, that's for certain
But everybody minds their own, without demands.
There's no sparring for the attention of the sun.
Everyone is in shadow; we're equally grounded.
No keeping up with the Joneses and Jetsons.
We're cool as ice bears and snow penguins.
No biters here to abbreviate your fate.
No gamblers to piss away all your pay.
No sniffers or grifters playing smelly games.
No angels on milk cartons, the young are all safe.
No stompers or sliders in red surface shoes.
Bleeding out on our palette of sweet, baby blue.
Sometimes the clack on the surface
seeps down through the cracks.
That's when the Gilas become a bit restless.
With a flicker of grace, the polluted are purified.
Soon enough, peace is restored to its place.
Sliding back into the charity of silence.
I'm thriving and have no desire to surface.
Thou art no migrant bird, O Pink Beauty,
But forced art to fly many a long miles
Looking for fresh habitat and water,
In search of new breeding and nesting isles.
And in this search of a shallow wetland,
Ye fly hundreds of miles in patterned file.
Once there, watching ye take off on webbed feet,
Ah what a sight when ye lift off in style!
Thanks to vast wetlands getting polluted,
Despite thine number threatened art thou still,
What with habitats getting degraded,
Should ye lose out, oh what a cruel ill!
I watch when ye fly in flocks of thousands,
Then settle down sighting the right wetland
Or marshland, with friends and family bands,
What gorgeous a sight ye turn lifeless land!
And now a word about thine mating dance
That pairs of males perform to charm females—
Their magical synchronised head movements,
At climax a wing salute does regale.
It's strange, O thou Lesser Pink Flamingo,
Thou art no ‘lesser'— colour nor number,
Nor beauty, nor yet dancing style ye know,
Only size that thou art any humbler!
Soon as monsoon comes to its end, I think
Of thine flocks to turn wetlands a deep pink!
_____________________________________________ ____
Reminiscing | 21.09.2020 |
Entered for "All Yours (May 20) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand
Someday I'd like to wander free
like butterfly, like bumblebee,
perhaps to plant a willow tree
beside the silent solemn sea,
before these things exist no more,
from mountain top to shifting shore,
when, soon, bald eagles cease to soar
and build their aeries nevermore,
and fish forsake polluted streams
(where sulfur swims and typhoid teems
since no one really cares it seems)
to die inside our toxic dreams
while ice caps melt and winter steams,
and all the air surrounding reeks
as children choke, for no one speaks
of fracking wells or oily leaks
(Big Brother's silenced all critiques!),
and rancid rains acidify
so woods no longer multiply
(for God so wills, we can't deny,
which is, of course, our alibi).
And as the deepest ocean fills
with plastic bags, and garbage spills
upon the plains, across the hills
and turns to poison dust that kills
wild dingo dogs and daffodils
which sink in swamps’ forsaken swills,
the mocking bird makes light and trills
(midst waning wails of whippoorwills)
"Behold the surreal scene that chills
and greet the dread that death distills!
You've had your day with all the frills
that brought the flood and final ills
that can't be cured with bitter pills
nor yet undone with further thrills
of profit gained that grinds and fills
dead desert sands with dollar bills."
EPILOGUE
Though swaddled still in infancy,
we feel we’ve reached our primacy
(aloof, though preaching piously,
disdaining deeds of decency)
and have no need of augury.
But in the pit of prophecy
the crucial questions seem to be:
“Is doom Earth’s fate, our destiny
to twist in tides of agony
destroying nature’s progeny
with no return a certainty
assured by death’s finality?”
and
”Should we plant a willow tree
to someday weep for you and me?”
My brain has been polluted from the influence of the outside. Thoughts are mixed, like emotions—Diluted over time.
In a land far-far away, yet a time not so distant, I remember when I had my own beliefs; driven from conviction.
As the clock kept moving forward my mind began to wander. The blueprint of my life resembles that of new construction—Constantly changing to suit the task at hand.
As people came and went, I absorbed their toxins while testing many waters which caused my pupils to dilate towards the direction of my peers—Leaving me wide eyed and all alone yet stuck in a crowd—Where I once reveled in the attention and left an impressionable mark, feeling as if I was an inseparable part. I polluted many. I was an in-the-moment infectious type. A disease of happy good ole me, being me without giving it a thought; this was youth. Free in my own skin not questioning the vibe. Just becoming. Simply following course and expanding it with a huge grin from cheek to cheek.
A rhythmic drum beat constantly kept me on this path. A quest, a journey; for happiness. A time in my life that I wished to last forever. At one point came to an inevitable end.
Although that has demised due to the destruction of my past. It remains in my veins. There's no doubt it will last and hasn't officially left or even passed. However, I can guarantee it passed onto another young lover with sparkles in his eyes. If only I knew him, would he say thanks or hi? Did I pollute him or did he pollute me—From the influence of the outside?
- 3/01/14
Edited -5/01/17
This poem is about music festivals. And to reference a few locations and venues I have experienced. I will recognize Harmony Park in Albert Lea Minnesota, Wakarusa in Lawrence Kansas and Bonaroo in Tennessee...To all these amazing adventures I gratefully encountered, I will not ever be able to duplicate the exact same events as the settings and lineups are forever changing as new replaces old and change happens. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed.
ODE TO THE RAIN
A rare happening here, this dreary drought:
The dry earth chokes and trees are fast fading,
Reservoir water stock is drying out.
The dry weather is truly worrying,
We bear the foul odours of wind-blown haze,
Health concerns with ash now escalating.
We feel the choking air in smelly daze,
See long clinic queues with breathing ailments,
Polluted smog and hazy fare spurs craze.
Our dry ordeal lingers with harsh statements,
Our nearby neighbour's post-harvest burnings;
Political talks brought vain agreements.
No amount of talk brings clear resolving,
So here we sit and wait and pray for rain,
Our medicine men are busy chanting.
Forty days of drought feels enlightening,
And suddenly a burst of wetness falls:
Due change of healing moisture now drowsing.
Truth heralds clear that prayer brings rainfall,
Faith still moves mountains and wet clouds charade,
The heartfelt word goes forth to echo call.
Drenching rain and more rain on our parade,
Happy children rain-dancing wildly free,
For water pools and cools and moves all trade.
This aqueous spring revives all greenery,
Smiles and sheer delight for wet weather shows,
See wetness bring freshness that now sets free.
An attitude of gratitude funds glow,
A sparkle of delight now flows and grows!
Leon Enriquez
16 Mar 2014
Singapore
Thanksgiving is different this year
but I am thankful for many things in my life
like sunrises and sunsets . . .
and the sky that the Lord paints each day and night
I am thankful to have a home, food and money
when many do not in the world . . .
I am blessed to be owned by a Kitty Cat
for the freedom of speech and the right to vote
thank you for coffee, ice cream and apple pie
for my husband, child and sister- names engraved
thankful for parents who taught me well (rest in peace)
for my grandma who said write it for the world to read
for electricity, cable tv, and the internet . . .
to be able to sleep with no fear and follow my dreams
thankful for my health, medicine and doctors
to live in the beautiful vast country of Canada
for clean drinking water . . .
when many in the world drink polluted water
and thank you, Lord for this gift of writing words
oh, I have lots to be thankful for each day_
_________________________
October 31, 2020
Poetry/Free Verse/Be Thankful Each Day
Copyright Protected, IF 10-1299-348-31
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France
Written for the Premier contest, Thanksgiving
sponsor, Regina McIntosh
Third Place
To watch the dark, and twinkling skies,
Brings joy and love, to my curious eyes.
To think of where we are today,
It sends my interested mind away.
To a place where thoughts and dreams come true,
To a place where all the planets are blue,
And green and round and full of beings,
An alien planet, that’s full of meanings.
You ask yourself questions, when so engrossed,
On what it is like, on the sea coast,
Of an alien planet, so far away,
To make you want, to run away
To catch a flight, to the nearest rocket,
Sail up to the stars, to go into orbit.
To glide by all of the shining diamonds,
To ponder and watch, at endless horizons
How much I would love, to visit the stars,
The velvet of night, the orange of Mars.
The blue of Neptune, the rays of sun,
The awe of earth, held by a gun.
The gun being held, by mankind themselves,
With pollution, mass production, and everything else.
A world gone to waste, our spot in the space,
A fact that no one, can seem to face.
I look up at the stars, whenever I see,
Through the polluted clouds, and satellite debris,
I see some worlds, untouched by mankind,
And think to myself, I hope we don’t find,
I hope we don’t find, a world to destroy,
We’ve already destroyed one, a child with a toy.
We can save the planet, we aren’t done yet,
We need to work, forget about debt.
We need to get rid, of toxic material,
It’s like man kind, is something bacterial,
A virus to the world, so beautiful and pure,
We don’t deserve it, and that is for sure.
To work together, is the only way,
To save the earth, from a gloomy fate,
Reduce the plastic, cycle to work,
Stop the cars roaming, we need to rework,
To come together, man woman and child,
To save the earth, before we’re exiled,
And end up doing what I first said,
And move to worlds, to break their bread