In local park you’ll see her foraging.
In every litter bin she digs deep down
To see what precious prize there hides away.
With ginger overcoat and auburn hair
She is the cunning urban fox at work,
Scattering and leaving rubbish here and there.
She has her large shopping trolley in tow
To collect and transport her daily takings.
All of that nasty plastic she rejects
And filthy dog pooh bags she flings afar.
But all those drinks cans have real value
As she can sell them for some ready cash.
Part eaten pizzas pieces she unearths
And provide her with a welcome working snack.
Recycling other’s trash is Sally’s game.
And lots of free pickings she takes each day.
It’s how she lives; she feels no shame.
In local park you’ll see her foraging.
Categories:
recycler, work,
Form: Blank verse
Embodied
By David J Walker
As if I were a Ford or Chevy
Or an Old’s 88
Classified by year and make and
Model, registered and taxed and
Licensed with the local government
A product of an assembly line from the
American Big 3 proudly adorned with
Airplane like fins and flashy chrome bumpers
Popular in my generation
Parts interchangeable with the few
That are still truly original but more likely
Remanufactured to my specific
Specifications
Some admire the stressed and aged look
That comes naturally with the milage
Others like us restored down to the
Last detail
Keeping us in a garage, taking us
Out on sunny weekends, showing us off
At nostalgia shows playing the music we
Can sing to.
I used to name my cars as if they had a soul
I remember them now as I pass a junkyards
And wrecking yard where they disassembled,
Used parts sold and the rest smashed into a
Coffin like metallic wafer, the sent off to the
Recycler.
Categories:
recycler, nostalgia,
Form: Free verse
I have a bet
with an old fig tree
in my backyard;
a bet as to whether
he will be out
of the ground
before I am in it;
not that we wish the other
a speedier demise, for there
is a strong fondness and
bound we share -- having fed
one another for many years—
I, on his figs and lustrous shade;
and he, on my careful pruning
and sensitive irrigation...both
of us, around harvest, receiving
song-full praising from the
many winged interlopers, and
four legged sojourners of our
opulent and thoroughly integrated
community;
as to the motive for our wager
it is more tongue-and-cheek,
or bark-and...whatever --
reflecting the inevitable folly
of both our journeys…
below or above seems to make
little difference in the final
revelation—sort of like, rich
vs. poor...we are all equal
to the Grim Reaper—Nature’s
totally, Politically Correct
Recycler….
Categories:
recycler, analogy, appreciation, community, friendship,
Form: Free verse
A CLASSIC BEACH ROMANCE
Of pleasures that grew on a sandy shore
You touched me and kissed me more
I surrendered all with childlike trust
You loved me not but I loved you a must
A much shorter time was the love you felt
Than candle back to wax by heat doth melt
You replace your fueling thread like cooking stove
A rapid recycler of summer time love
Your presence of passion on me lingers still
Caressing my parts with touches that kill
Mocking my belief of true love by chance
You left me none but a classic beach romance
Categories:
recycler, beach, i miss you,
Form: Rhyme
Nature was the original recycler
She could take the ancient waste
Make it into life nourishing soil
To help the flowers grow.
When waste was of her own making
It would decay into the ground
Now man has made it impossible
For the waste to go away.
Creating new and modern trash
Plastics, metals, circuit boards
Chemicals that taint the ground
Seem forever here to stay.
When will we surrender to her hand
And make the earth clean as before
With life giving dirt to feed the land
Making flowers bloom again.
Categories:
recycler, motivation, nature,
Form: Free verse
I should have been recycled and placed in the bin
It wouldn't hurt there ,Id be cozy with cans and tin
Dragged up the hill for the trash men with their bright orange vests
I'd watch for the racoons who like to root and make a mess
Take me home , take me apart , make a new me once again
No one could chastise me, make fun or call me a has been
I'd need a new mother and father , brother sister or two
If I was recycled and became a lawyer maybe I'd sue
Life would start over and I could forget all the past
Meet all new people , create memories that last
Recycle, recycle it's a mighty powerful word
If God got creative maybe I'd come back as a bird
God lives up in Heaven,is the greatest recycler of all
I hope to be recycled and come back and be tall
My hopes and my dreams will be recycled as well
Hopes and dreams bought on margin, maybe I'll sell
I'd miss all my family and all of my friends
My face would be on milk cartons as if I was ten
Categories:
recycler, allegory, anxiety, happy, me,
Form: Free verse
Through dusty lenses she gazes at an the welcomes instrument of her demise
Ripped and torn insides make it hard to sit comfortably for very long
As the recycler warms up, two sharp forks pierce her side
Scrapes, dents and a torn skirt torn a tell the story of racy nights on the back roads
Her rusted hood trembles under his sweltering breath
By Robb A. Kopp
All Rights Reserved © MMX
Categories:
recycler, allegory, angst
Form: Acrostic