you have the Darwin awards
that you wily survivors may
feel better about yourselves
clothed like irony
in the intelligence of your decisions.
oh sad species
unclip yourself from false reflections
and wash, nay scrub, clean my air
of your putrid carbon abuse.
run your tea strainers through my oceans
like lice combs through the
sweet smelling hair of children
and in punishment eat your plastic
as innocent creatures have done.
let it fill up your bowels
with a thousand years of regret
and then, with stomachs aching,
turn to tree planting.
exhume from my soil
your centuries of disrespect
and pay homage with your tears
to these tiny green saplings
that they may flourish, grow strong
birthing a second Renaissance
where nature is art
and science is education
and Earthโs health is paramount.
then your womb's fruit
shall safely prosper
in this orbit of my content
There is much to be angry about at present. Sometimes I wonder what is the point of humanity. We have created so much chaos and ugliness on the planet.
“Let it fill up your bowels with a thousand years of regret”……..as it does the dead bodies of whales washed up on shore, and seabirds, bellies full of plastic. Gah. I wish I were as hopeful as your closing lines…..but humans seem to not hear the message till way too late.
Wow! Another amazing epistolary poem! And itโs a letter to the Editor from Earth, which made me smile. I love the irony that runs like trace metal through the earth. I especially love the lines:
โrun your tea strainers through my oceans
like lice combs through the
sweet smelling hair of children
and in punishment eat your plastic
as innocent creatures have done.โ
This makes me think of the puberty rites, where starry youth were ripped from their mother’s embrace, taken into the wood or cave and ritually initiated into adulthood by scarring and rough medicine. That is where adulthood begins, and the human tribe is due for some rough learning. All of that here to right the balance. May we learn the lessons of this Letter well. — Brendan
Thanks, Brendan. Initiation ceremonies are a scary concept to me. Rites of passage treated almost like punishment. But, I have to say, I had no qualms being a bit harsh in this poem.
Awesome!!
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Thank you. ๐
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Earthy, piquant and well, brilliant!
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Thanks, Hobbo. ๐
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Wow. This is straight up amazing, Worms.
โค
David
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Thanks so much, David. ๐
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What a strong message! I love the imagery, especially
‘run your tea strainers through my oceans
like lice combs through the
sweet smelling hair of children’
– nice to think, also, that we might still have a chance.
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Thank you Ingrid. Here’s to hope. ๐ค๐ฅ๐
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Strong words for dire times.
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๐
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Wow! I hope those ‘wily survivors’ take notice for the good of our planet !
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It’s hopeless.
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PS. not the poem. That is good.
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๐
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There is much to be angry about at present. Sometimes I wonder what is the point of humanity. We have created so much chaos and ugliness on the planet.
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Yes. I couldn’t agree more. It’s hard to be proud of ourselves at present.
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These are good wishes. We have eaten a lot of that plastic, though…(K)
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“Let it fill up your bowels with a thousand years of regret”……..as it does the dead bodies of whales washed up on shore, and seabirds, bellies full of plastic. Gah. I wish I were as hopeful as your closing lines…..but humans seem to not hear the message till way too late.
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I know. It’s so frustrating!
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And man, I WISH Earth could write a letter to the editor – and to the leaders of all nations.
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Yes yes yes.
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Wow! Another amazing epistolary poem! And itโs a letter to the Editor from Earth, which made me smile. I love the irony that runs like trace metal through the earth. I especially love the lines:
โrun your tea strainers through my oceans
like lice combs through the
sweet smelling hair of children
and in punishment eat your plastic
as innocent creatures have done.โ
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Thanks, Kim. Your comment is so appreciated. ๐
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This makes me think of the puberty rites, where starry youth were ripped from their mother’s embrace, taken into the wood or cave and ritually initiated into adulthood by scarring and rough medicine. That is where adulthood begins, and the human tribe is due for some rough learning. All of that here to right the balance. May we learn the lessons of this Letter well. — Brendan
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Thanks, Brendan. Initiation ceremonies are a scary concept to me. Rites of passage treated almost like punishment. But, I have to say, I had no qualms being a bit harsh in this poem.
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to these tiny green saplings
that they may flourish, grow strong
birthing a second Renaissance
May, it be so that the saplings grow and take root for 7 generations to come…
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Amen to that
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I do love the straight talking clarity of this poem.
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Thank you. I am glad you said that. I was worried, when writing it, that the kind of bossy tone might put people off.
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