Last continent to which humans did divert;
Antarctica has highest elevation.
Frozen tundra limits its vegetation;
With slight precipitation—a cold desert.
Final Earth region sighted—1820;
98 percent covered by mile-thick ice.
Compared to Australia, its size nigh twice;
Subglacial lakes give it water aplenty.
Antarctic Treaty signed by 50 nations;
Protects ecozone of this land south polar.
During high summer, full days of light solar,
For thousands of people at research stations.
Despite harsh conditions, wildlife survives here.
Snow petrel, other birds have Antarctic home.
Fur seals, emperor penguins, other breeds roam;
One thousand-plus species of fungi appear.
Though it’s the fifth largest continent in size,
Antarctica leads in average wind speeds.
Controlling sea levels, serving other needs;
Keeping Antarctic ice shelves stable is wise.
my tundra heart
permafrost perennial
frail emotion frozen
your flaming fervor
turns glacial desire ember
in inferno of love
a mini lion
keeping gray and tan secrets
loving her dacha
Hanging hope on garden roses
Licking love from silver spoons
On the run in tundras frozen
Throwing howls at the moon
No true way to leave the castle
Though you came here on your own
Sometimes you are a prisoner
Sometimes you’re on the throne
Though his rugged mange offends you
His venom’s nothing new
Still he keeps you close to him
Beauty is a beast too
Oh, tundra vast, where winds do bite,
Where summer's day is winter's night.
A land of fire, ice, and sheep,
Of brooding skies that rarely sleep.
We thrive on lava, moss, and pride,
Though sometimes feel the world outside
Forgets we’re more than Björk and Cod—
Our quirks, our quirrels, our Viking squad.
We’re quiet folk, a tad reserved,
With humor dry, and smiles conserved.
But toss us in a thermal pool,
And see us giggle like a fool.
The sagas sing of ancient might,
But let’s be real—our greatest fight
Is finding sun mid-April gloom,
Or not discussing weather in a room.
Our horses prance with double gait,
Our language traps the tongue of fate.
But if you try and twist a word,
We’ll clap—then mock you. (Yes, you heard.)
Our homes are cozy, clad with turf,
A shelter from the glacier’s surf.
Yet in our hearts, a paradox:
We’re mighty trolls, and fragile rocks.
So here’s to Iceland—quirky, bold,
Where glaciers carve and geysers scold.
A tundra tough, yet tender too,
A land of dreams—and “aðeins þú.”
I am the tundra barren cold and numb
A frozen wasteland where no light can reach
Between these poles, my insatiate self-succumbs.
In icy silence where no whimpers humb
My thoughts like glaciers grind, erode, and breach
I am the tundra, barren, cold, and numb.
The Amazon within once vital thrumb
Of life and hope now withers out of reach
Between these poles my insatiate self-succumbs.
Anxiety a howling blizzard's sumb
Entombs me deep a creature bleached of speech.
I am the tundra, barren, cold, and numb.
Depression creeps permafrost of my slumb
While echoes of lost joy my soul beseech
Between these poles, my insatiate self-succumbs.
Yet in this waste, where all seems overcome
A seed of strength cracks ice defies the leech
I am the tundra, barren, cold, and numb.
Between these poles, my insatiate self-succumbs.
I'm Canadian eh! from the frozen tundra
Stored food for the winter, so I'm a little rotunda
Not worried a bit
Soon be back in fit
How I made it though winter, it's a wond-a
I'm Canadian eh! from the frozen tundra
Stored food for the winter, so I'm a little rotunda
Not worried a bit
Soon be back in fit
How I make it though winter, it's a wondra
wintry tundra
a tiny icicle drip
everything frozen
The red-throat trawled me to a shanghaied shore
then left me raw in split-sedated state.
A sense of morning meant the lamp lit late
and when I dream I taste a little gore,
but it was peaceful there, upon that shore.
And how I prayed it would disintegrate.
And for the waters to evaporate.
And for the dark to dredge the ocean floor.
And all then did. No one should be allowed
such icy fun: to hear whimpering whales
aware of demise, crushing coral, proud
no longer. But then the fisherman’s sails
at first glint of sun. The hawk circling back
to this, my tundra, that the desert fails.
Azure waves roll,
across golden fields,
Where he lies waiting,
for the Heartland-
Heavens,to blanket him
with bliss.
Floating down a river
of quite bronze earth
Guided by hands,
of Iowan seraphim.
He dreams of sacred
Alaska,
heavenly
technicolor
light shows,
and ancient tundra
not yet disturbed.
black path of structure
dissecting the dark spring
green sun glow yellow lines
dividing the road to heaven
artificial lights flashing guiding
in the natural sun
i am perspiring
erect and tired the roar of
the machine in the empty minds
we are accelerating velocity
is directed acceleration i remember
we climb at the end of the visible land
orgasmic frozen tundra
Limerick : Once a Cossack in tundra cassock
Once a Cossack in tundra cassock
Crept to spy on his wife : got a shock
She lay stooped in prayer
Without a stitch on her
Guess whose head was on the butcher’s block ?
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
Barren and innocent
This Tundra of ice
A marvel within us
Perfect, concise
Below sunsets of pure
We're blessed to grace
To witness such beauty
On this wonderful place
Barren and innocent
Is this Tundra of ice
It's our future legacy
Let's keep it precise
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/ed-unitsky.php
se and scream to lobby your sanity,
I need not pain to know I'm real,
Imburse the notes locked in your vanity.
I need not light to see your spiel.
I cannot change you, you already know the truth,
Each leaf on trees signify lies told in stride,
People forgiving for themselves, and the release inside.
Forgive me for i have no proof.
Collaborated hate on can only feed,
Unaware of the mutilation occurring,
Unstable mental structures sending the mind stirring.
Overload of capacities makes orifices bleed.
Return your soul, stop feeding venom,
Only the devil can portray himself as an angel with hateful words and colorless denim.
Don't be self absorbed or blind,
Miscalculation stops the heart and depletes the mind.
Dust dried reserves depleted from warfare,
Empty eyes only seeing the horrible,
Dry iced tundra filled with hot hate created coursed hair.
Its the land of the dead where people still live but feel deplorable.
The feeling cripples, kills and leaves the victims gaze glazed with a cold stare.
Absent awareness makes embedded hate portable.
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