China, my secret love-hate yin-yang mistress
Not the tea cup and platter kind
But the expansive yellow blob on the map
Taking up half of Asia kind.
In other words, the actual
Flesh and blood kind,
The kind that stretches back millennia
Before Christ’s birth,
Originator of perhaps the oldest continuous
If not always best civilization
Rich in arts and culture, natural history
And sheer grandeur of such vastness.
But also at the very same time
A land of horror and terror, conquering hordes
Concentration camps and The Great Leap Forward
Organ harvesting, election interference, Covid 19
Birthright citizenship tourism, data hacking,
And the great corrosive flood of Fentanyl.
How can such a place that is so wonderful
Filled with a billion wonderful souls
Be such a horror, a sucking black hole
On a fixed smiling face of death and deceit,
Saving face as they say
For what? The hope of peace and change?
When in reality what’s needed is a complete cut.
Let it collapse under it’s own hubris,
Let it go, let it sink, let it rot in hell
And at least, at last, in memoriam,
Remember and exalt what it once was,
And not get fooled again.
(7/27/26)
Born in Lyme Regis Dorset
a palaeontologist fossil collector
in the English Channel marine bed cliffs
and a coprolites (faeces) detector
who at only twelve years old
found the first two skeletons plesiosaur
and outside Germany
that of a pterosaur
yet as a woman who did not
always receive full credit
for her scientific contributions
and ineligible to join to their discredit
the Geological Society of London
while struggling financially
for her it was no shell game
to make ends meet as circumstantially
when selling shells by the seashore
the seashore shells she sold
were her start of the first shell company
by the Natural History Museum in London I was told
Welcome to Chicago!
Where women march like soldiers
in their tennis shoes, wearing their stuffy suits
Welcome to the windy city.
The women dare not wear full skirts.
Their high heels are in their desk drawer
Welcome to the Magnificent Mile
These women’s children are in the suburbs
With babysitters who do not love them.
Welcome to Chicago!
Tired women march out of the train station
holding a handbag or a lunch box, maybe both
Welcome to the Field Museum of Natural History
A place they could bring their children on weekends
But do not want to, because they do not want to come back.
There where nature
manufactures an outfall,
drop by drop,
a river is born...
The natural history,
covers the sands of tempo,
under the water
hidden...
Before eyes
who only sight,
what wet feet
step on...!
We got there when it opened
And we raced right up to 4.
The dinosaurs were waiting;
Some excitement was in store.
We stopped at every case and looked
As Henry posed in front.
From room to room we wandered
On a dino-fossil hunt.
Attention started flagging
So we found our way instead
To the hall of dioramas
With their animals (all dead).
Just one more thing, we pleaded.
There’s a giant big blue whale
But the patience of a 6 year old,
It seemed, would like prevail.
We zipped our coats and headed out
Before it all turned sour.
Maybe next time, we will stay
A bit more than an hour!
sunrise charcoal silhouettes
ember warmth
forty degrees west nor west
HAIKU
~~~~~~~
sun... moon... stars,., sky
sea... land... flora... fauna... earth
endangered wonders
~~
ere the void...
would life on earth endure
galaxies thunder...
~~
are cataracts why
humans cannot see nature...
there is a cure...
~~
look at the night sky
all ancient history
sunlight 9 mins away
~~
bonkers... all bonkers...
rap it... hip hop it... live it...
life... dance while you can...
~~
dark clouds darkened... why...
their own shadow dims their white
lay lines guide birds flight
~~
a twinkle
the robin's eye's again hoping
you put some food out
~~
facts of nature
are the true facts of all life
start making babies
~~
snow... its beauty
belies the fact it's dangerous
don't let your mind drift
Naani
~~~~~~~~~
A naturalist
Commends natural history
The only way of life
Make her your second wife
Peter loved his wife Carmen Lúcia
Their love 's color was tranquil fuchsia
Their love took shape in Mogok
In depth of the Mother rock
Big red ruby-poem of Gaia
HISTORY
The Smithsonian's National Museum of Natural History in Washington, D.C. has received one of the world's largest and finest ruby gemstones. The 23.1 carats (4.62 g) Burmese ruby, set in a platinum ring with diamonds, was donated by businessman and philanthropist Peter Buck in memory of his late wife Carmen Lúcia. This gemstone displays a richly saturated red color combined with an exceptional transparency. The finely proportioned cut provides vivid red reflections. The stone was mined from the Mogok region of Burma (now Myanmar) in the 1930s.
Precious Stones and Gems - Poetry Contest
Sponsor:Anthony Slausen
Poet: Rajat Kanti Chakrabarty
Form: Limerick
Theme: Love, Ruby, Precious stone
Little crystals fallen angel tears smooching ground;
Instills cooling touch among grasses, buds and trees;
Facets rolling ambiguity ~ mystery;
Twirls then twines closely rush on branches bounds;
Inches white eerie cloud rhymes hang rest at key;
Nailing anyone to see natural history;
Garden fog silence~ conceals even tricks;
Tinge golden yellow linear streaks thread through
Hovering to break fogs' gloomy cold mood
Enchantment subsides, enlightening arise!
Fog succumbs ~ gradually disappears from view
Orchards' quiet green scenery renewed
Greets my cheeks breezy soft so prize...
(c)Olive Eloisa
6:29pm
July 06,2014
CONTEST NAME: 1 in 4 CHOOSE YOUR ACROSTIC TITLE
SPONSOR: ANDREA DIETRICH
8th place, to God be the glory..:)
The natural history of some has never been written, We’re but a stream whose source is hidden
The most exact calculator has no prescience,
Our being is descending into us from we know not whence.
I’m many a times moody and wildly wise,
pursuing daring games with joyful eyes,
which chose, like meteors, their way
And rived the dark with private ray:
I am owner of my private atmosphere,
of the ample tears shed in a year,
of pupil’s hand, and oracle’s brain,
of Lord Christ heart, and prophet’s strain.
I am one found overleapting the horizon’s edge,
searching with host’s privilege;
through man, woman, sea, and star,
Glancing the dance of nature forward far;
Through demensions, races, terms, and times,
Beholding melodical order, and juxtaposing rhymes.
I’m one treading fountain-heads and pathless groves,
Spaces which pale passion loves,
Starlight walks, when all the fowls
Are safely sheltered, save bats and owls,
A midnight bell, a passing groan,
Such are the sounds I feed upon.
DC
On the banks of the Potomac
Where the cherry blossoms grow
Stands our nation's capital
With monuments all in a row
The laws that make us a great nation
Are decided in its halls
The names of those who died for our country
Are emblazoned on Memorial Walls
Steeped in natural history
Envied by the world
Filled with pride and patriotism
Whenever the flag is unfurled
She was burned down by the British
But from the ashes she rose
Like the mythological Phoenix
Or so the story goes
Though laden with corruption
Filled with lust and greed
She's still a symbol of freedom
For every nation's seed
She stands as a sign to many
Who chase the American Dream
The great land of opportunity
Where freedom casts its gleam
And so its history tells us
Of those who freely gave
The ultimate sacrifice to keep us
The land of the free and the home of the brave
Curtis Moorman
9 February 2008
Are faeries really there?
And will they pull your hair
When you walk near?
Indeed they really will,
They’ll trip you-make you spill-
Then give a cheer…
And disappear.
She sells seashells on the sea shore
For in Lyme Regis she did explore-
Poor Mary's childhood hobby
This lass of tongue-twister fame
A fossil-finder,now of much acclaim.
Mary Anning (1799-1846) a carpenter's daughter,self-educated,but now hailed as the
greatest fossil hunter ever known according to the Natural History Museum London
Avebury a Wiltshire village low
To windswept beacon of Ivinghoe.
Eighty-five miles,vale and hill
Wayfare freedoms,exhilarate and thrill.
Striding downs in grassy scrub
Midst trees and clumps of shrub;
Shaded lanes,gates and stiles,
Wayside pubs to rest awhile.
Overton to Wantage plain
Goring and Streatly in the rain;
Chinnor to Bledlow,in freezing chill,
To Buckmoor,Chequers and Coombe Hill.
Wendover to Hastoe through morning dew
Wigginton,Albury onto Beacon view;
Natural history and species now rare,
Time to idle or just stand and stare.
Sub Categories
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