Not unexpected
after a long illness
memory the first to go -
the seasons for example
forgetting when and how
to organise them
in what order
Doctors make
their diagnoses -
dozens by the day -
ingestion
man-made toxins
multiple regimes
prescription drugs
worsen the condition
For starters
far too many boots
have crunched the scree
too many spades
have plunged in peat bogs
too much
pressure of people
Hills belch pumice
smoke and ash
(they call the patient "ashen")
forests bleach
in turn
lungs turn to concrete
gills on sea beds
grilled to taste
Calderas cough their sputum up
among the clouds
to rivers dark with blood
earth rolls in seeming agony
its gastric gases
poisoning the sky
If you believe in Gaia
you might just think it suicide.
We reach a point
maybe
where checks and balances
that must be made
if we will go on living
simply grow too irksome.
Triggered at some point
vast underground brigades -
invisible dark matter
which give the universe
its heft - transport its energies
along their lines of force.
Clumps
of those same energies -
heat light and sound
their absences -
strange darknesses
and one great silence
the consuming cold
in random distributions
gyrate around each other
cheek to cheek
and arse to arse
their borders tight
as those of warring states
Glaciers boil
whose arms
make rain-soft forests
of the trees now
hung with icicles
a thousand rainbows
fill the skies
yet nowhere there
was any compact made by God.
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20 comments:
This is a far reaching poem, so broad in its scope and effective in its imagery. This is about death with a sliver of hope?
Earth will always have the final word, I think, Dave and all of this reminds us how insignificant we are in the scheme.
I agree with Paul. think we are beng reminded, volcanic erruptions and the latest quake in Canada. We will continue to get these "reminders" lets just hope we start listening
Great poem in all it;s sadness and so true.
Lungs turn to concrete....... heartfelt.
Let's hope it's not too late to heal the earth.
Deep and dark, yet I still see the rainbow. How did manage that, Dave?
Such poetic chaos.
It's more than stirring.
It's pulverized agony.
Like the idea of a thousand rainbows filling the skies, Dave - just stops the poem being totally dark.
They recently haulted natural gas extraction because it seemed to be causing earth tremors...she shudders at our rape.
A very violent poem in some respects, but excellently paced and appeallingly sparse.
i especially like the first half.
I do believe in Gaia and in the fact that she is waking up. Her bowels give us warning, her rainbows, hope.
I like tat bit about the earth losing it's memory for the seasons.That's different and funny!It is easy to forget the planet is a living thing.This is a timely reminder.Nice work Dave!
Moving to read the larger view, so many problems people are overwhelmed. The Earth will endure with or without humans or other life ... difficult to think as broadly as you have. We need to hear this voice.
this can be interpreted in a multitude of ways. all quite correct. and sad. think there's another way to do this???
Paul
Thanks for the opening remarks. Your final sentence hits the nail, I think.
Derrick
I'm sure you are right in saying that Earth will always have the final say. That is the faikth of Gaia of course - but only up to a point. I just hope we don't push it beyond that point.
Gwei
Amen to that.
Momo Luna
Thanks for that and "here, here" to the sentiments.
Dorraine
I don't think I managed it, I think it managed me.
Kass
I guess for me poetry comes more easily from chaos - I wonder what that says about me! Thanks for your haiku.
The Weaver of Grass
Yes, optimism will out! Thanks.
Tabor
Interesting, I didn't know that. Thanks for the info.
M adame DeFarge
I have to put my hands up to it being violent. Much appreciate the other remarks.
Maggie
Me too - I think, though I'm still too close to it.
Ronda
Well said, yes I agree. I suppose the question remains, though: how much hope?
Totalfeckineejit
That was almost the first bit that came to me, where the poem started. Than ks for the comm ent.
June
Sure, the Earth will survive. I agree, the question is: shall we? B rolad views are difficult to arrive at - and poetically, b est served by the detailed view.
Shadow
I guess there are as many ways as there are people. Having the will to start seems to be the problem.
All sad but true...
This is beautiful work, Dave, although I wish it weren't true.
yes yes yes
bitten, smitten and longing.
This poem flows with an outspoken awareness, nothing wasted, pulling no punches. It is political yet based in natural imagery. Very powerful and as others have said with that important "slither of hope".
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