Tag Archives: poem about the environment

A Wild Redemption


A Wild Redemption

Sick of this world,
I take a morning walk
up a nearby mountain trail I’ve long neglected.

As I trudge the uphill path,
I wave good-bye to those figments of reality
that are but squatters in my brain—
invasive memories
that by their constant presence
have proclaimed themselves to be
the intrinsic truths of our world.

I blame the internet
for choosing what we see
and those fools we meet there
whom otherwise
we’d never have occasion to listen to.

The path is rough
with dirt and grass,
rubbled by rough stones
like uncut gems.

Abandoned sneakers
crown a pile of 
drying palm fronds,
as though they’ve been parted from their legs
much as the palm fronds have been
severed from their trees.

Banks of golden flowers
form walls on

either side,
then give way to

stalks of purple blooms
with saffron tongues
and multi-colored clover.
The white bands of butterflies
striped like zebras
announce their presence in the shade,

and even the litter
is fallen flowers.

In the path lies
the circular mounded artistry of ants

that signals that new and private world
they’ve cleared out for themselves below.

Too soon, and long before I would have turned
to renegotiate a path now sloped downwards,
a closed gate either forgotten
or new since I last passed this way
so many years before,
turns me homewards,
past the abandoned shoes

and fallen trees turning into soil,
past the orange blooms of a tabachine tree,
past stone walls
and cobblestones.
and more contained beauty.

The runoff from last night’s rain
shoots from the drain that pierces a high stone wall.
Mushrooms grow on a woodpile

beneath the bright yellow of a neighbor’s tabachine,
and a split-open pomegranate
from my own tree
forms a happy face, welcoming me home


as my across-the-street neighbor’s
new small dog,
unaccustomed to me,

barks out her protest
of this interloper
who has been newly saved
by the reality
of the wild beauty
of our world
that was here
before we came,

has been here
all along,

and will
remain
after we leave.

This is the more constant truth of the world,
and I return home
to create a reminder of it.


To see photos of the walk, click Here and then click on each photo
to enlarge it and advance to an enlarged view of the rest of the photos. (An abridged version of this poem is given as captions to explain the photos but omits some of the above stanzas.)

Prompt words today are wave, figment, blame, intrinsic and sick.

Human Drama

Human Drama

The wings of destiny are stilled, waiting for our play.
Astonished at our slowness, confused at the delay.
Disappointment in mankind by now’s a usual thing.
What new human horror will the future bring?

We’ve poisoned oceans, sullied air and burdened earth with junk.
Enough to put Ma Nature in a perpetual funk.
She balks and sends out warriors to try to curb our lusts,
but still mankind continues to turn shouldn’ts into musts.

She now sees she was misguided in creating human fools,
with all  of their excesses flaunting all her rules.
Soon she’ll find another way to try to clear her slate of them
as destiny stands waiting to see what is the fate of them.

 

Prompt words today are disappointment, astonish, delay, destiny and wing,

Plum Pit, Apple Core

ecologyeco

Plum Pit, Apple Core

Never saw an apple tree, never saw a plum
that I didn’t want to reach out and get me some.
Bite into the fleshy fruit. Chew around the pit.
Spit it out into my hand to get rid of it.
Dig a hole to bury it. Smooth it with my heel
to grow another fruit tree for a future meal.

Such a simple motion in a world grown gross—
most folks isolated, fearfully morose
about  nature’s rebellion against humankind.
Reaching deep within her and taking what we find
without giving back again—everybody keen
on scraping out her riches with some grand machine.

For manifold acts of mankind, dangerous and mean,
nature has not found an adequate vaccine.
But, by giving back again, we signify devotion

to start to rectify our sins with a simple motion.
Let’s help her out by simply remaining aware
that each and every one of us needs to start to care.

By every single action, let’s demonstrate our wills
to rectify our heedlessness, atone for all our ills.
For everything that we take out, putting something back.
To therein change our dangerous course and take another tack.
Just a simple gesture, signifying more.
Building back our world pit after pit, core after core.

We talk about solutions, never coming close—
spewing words not actions, maddeningly verbose.
But if every person just took their life in hand,
polluting less, enriching their surrounding land,
perhaps we’d shift the balance, tree by tree by tree,
restoring our world to what it’s meant to be.

Prompt words today are plum, motion,  vaccine, verbose and never

Our Better: Nature

Our Better: Nature

Science just can’t help it. It has to interfere,
trying to come up with things that formerly weren’t here:
pesticides and atom bombs, styrofoam and plastic,
genetic engineering and other “cures” more drastic.

Mother Nature chuckles and sends a flood or fire,
a hurricane or drought or backlashes more dire.
We try to get the best of her, but in the end she’ll win.
for though we try to overlook it, she’s the body that we’re in!

When we seek to alter her, we also alter us.
She’s the vehicle we ride in and we can’t get off the bus.
We’re poisoning her lifeblood and littering her skies,
interfering with her cycles in ways that are not wise.

When we overpopulate, she counters with a virus.
Her avalanches bury us, her floods and mudslides mire us.
If we were Nature’s employees, I think that she would fire us,
bemoaning that decision she made to ever hire us.


Two of my usual prompt sites had not published their word by the time I did my prompt poem today so I only used three prompts. This morning they are published so I’m writing a second poem.The Ragtag prompt today is Help and the Word of the Day prompt is science.

Metallica

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For NaPoWriMo Day 7, the prompt is to choose a news headline as the topic for a poem. Here is the news report I chose to write about: “Researchers Discover Faraway Planet Where the Rain is Made of Iron.” I guess you might call this an ironic poem?

Metallica

Use your cook pots for umbrellas, ‘cuz it’s raining iron rain.
I don’t mind heavy metal, but as weather? It’s insane.
The drumming is excessive, and if you can’t take the pain,
you don’t want to be caught out singing in the rain.

If you plan on going wading, I’d have another think,
for the puddles that you’re ogling seem to be full of zinc.
When it snows, most of the snowflakes have crystals made of lead—
not a pleasing prospect when they’re falling on your head.

Oceans full of copper, bronze and steel and tin
may be the place you have to die for to be in.
Silver hills and valleys, rivers made of gold
are all that’s left now that our nature’s all been sold.

Does tungsten please your taste buds? Can you eat the golden calf?
With no leather, those bronze slippers aren’t as comfortable by half.
Aluminum for cooking, some folks think can’t be beat,
but what you use for cooking you cannot also eat!

Now they’ve fracked away our water and melted polar ice,
Mother Nature thinks a world of metal would be nice.
So put away your appetites, for food will be passé
once the plants and animals have all been put away.

Say thank you to our rulers. Say thank you very much
for their self-serving decisions and their Midas touch.
Some of us saw this coming but the others did not see
They were too busy getting their news from Fox TV!!!

Oh dear. I said I wasn’t going to write another political poem. Well, the prompts made me do it. Once again.