An empire rises,
When the trees are in their prime,
Until axes can be heard ringing all the time,
And the waters start to rise above the plimsoll line
An empire dies,
When the old men of the forest,
Are cut down with the rest,
Leaving the sun to do the rest.
When the sun has done its job,
And the water level drops,
Enough to see the mountain tops,
Up another forest pops.
I hope the next time an empire rises,
And before the sound of axes becomes too loud,
The people will think it sound,
To keep a few trees around.
Of course a sun hat or two,
May be needed,
So planting of trees between axe strokes is not impeded,
By Sunstroke that has gone unheeded.
Categories:
plimsoll line, analogy, anger, baptism, bereavement,
Form: Clerihew
Villanelle: The Dilemma of the Non-Violent – 44
Billions of years to make one of trillion planets
Whose – dare you guess – already sinking in drink
Men of little vision dicing for nuggets
World transformed by Einsteins Nobel laureates
Poised by Dark Ages men on abysmal brink
Billions of years to make one of trillion planets
Party-mad men serve their term without regrets
Yes make improvements cut ribbons dine toast drink
Men of little vision dicing for nuggets
Parties win with funds from business pockets
High finance pollutes parties leaders hoodwink
Billions of years to make one of trillion planets
Blame it on industry on progress rockets
Not on men whose greed drags us down the stink sink
Men of little vision dicing for nuggets
Plimsoll Line at two degrees’ Russian roulettes
Not to abstain NOW means aims aren’t worth the think
Billions of years to make one of trillion planets
Men of little vision dicing for nuggets
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2015
Categories:
plimsoll line, environment, political, violence, world,
Form: Villanelle