My Words, My World

First drafts – A few pages in the large wilderness of the world of writing

Archive for the tag “environment”

The sea’s breath

Yesterday I felt the sea breathing
as I watched the wind-strewn waves;
some breaths shallow, others ocean deep.
I fell into their rhythm
and breathed in the salt spray
and breathed out my soul in return:
sea salt spray for my soul
or what part of it I leave here.

Today I heard the sea choking
it’s breath no longer a rhythm
but a slow death rattle.
I walked in to it, embraced it
but plastic caressed my fingers,
tightened and gripped my hand
and embraced me, as I wanted to embrace the sea.
I pulled, and the plastic relented
the more I pulled, the more it came
but still the sea couldn’t breathe.

Tomorrow the wind will still blow
and the salt will still tang the air
and the waves still sigh upon the shore
and where once the seagulls cried
the only sound will be the empty laughter
of the few that profited from the many
of those who took from the Earth
and spat back its destruction.

Yesterday I felt the sea breathing
and wondered how long it would last.
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Force of nature

The twisting cobbled streets
slick with the damp night air
holding their sodden breath,
waiting for morning
each stone a rain-washed monument
to man’s short-lived triumph over nature:
apparently.
 
But watch the sprouting weed
or the green shaven-headed moss
hiding in the cracks
of frost-split stones
polished by centuries of feet.
 
History has taken us from the humble cobbled stone
to the cloud-reaching tower
of glass and concrete
of plastic and steel
Babel now lies in every direction
praise be the money-god. Ha!
 
Yet even these so-called wonders of man will fail
when nature decides to reclaim her own.
We can hope.

Once green world memory

Where be now the wind
that once blew?
Around the compass, all around;
south, east, west and north true.
Flag flutter memory
just choking on dust.

Where are you now rain,
that once fell?
Down from the heavens, drenching me;
downpour, shower, drizzle.
Umbrella memory
doesn’t dampen dust

You frost, cold and white,
that once lay.
Covering the fields, chilling me;
your kiss hard underfoot.
Winter boot memory
now walking in dust

And you the snow, you
fall no more?
Stinging my face, red cold my nose;
freezing, numbing my hands.
Sheepskin glove memory,
tracing in the dust.

From you the sun, where
can I hide?
From your lofty perch, glaring;
shrivelling, withering.
Once green world memory,
now turning to dust.

 

 

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