No more the elephant
Will there be
When they have
Taken all their ivory.

This giant who is big and strong
Who will leave no legacy
Like many more such as the dinosaur
Who are now just history.

So you and I can only try
To show how we abhor
The treatment of these giants
Who soon will be no more.

We know man's greed
Will not stop at killing these
The dolphins and the whales
Rhinos then the Forrest trees.

The earth is good with all its green
And all its infinite features
But what good will all this be
Without these mighty creatures.?

No more the elephent
Will there be
When they have taken
All their ivory

And destroyed their legacy.

i used to climb the tallest tree
just to leave behind the ground
sing as loud as i could breathe
about the shapes of passing clouds

mum would haller up to the heavens:
             "STOP IT !"
... "they’ll think you’re Mad!"

... whoever  "they"   were  (?)!
    i naively pondered thence  ―

    now,     the tree is gone,
       "they" chopped  it  
         all the way down
to memories and decomposing roots

    but i still see life unspool
    in the silent shapes of clouds

                    and
  hear the birds sing sweetly
     without a single word


☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☼  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁
                   jesse

Does a poet write only when he is sad?
Doesn't think so
But have heard so

Does a poet write only when he is upset?
Is writing a way to escape
From the world that hurt you a little too much?

Does a poet write only when he is depressed?
Why is his happiness not penned down?
Why is his prosperity not shared?

A poet doesn't write only when he is sad
All feelings, all happiness, all emotions
All of this is written

He writes when he is happy
He writes about the nature
He writes about everything and everyone

Poems are not always meant to be sad
They contain hope, love, peace
And so much more

I keep a private Scrapbook
You won't see on my shelf;
Stuffed with trivia from my life,
Known to no one but myself.

It's filled with words and actions,
Lies, cheats and thefts;
Nothing really serious,
But enough that I won't share.

Deeds I'm not proud of,
Words uttered to hurt;
Clippings from a checkered past
Sealed safely in my book.

There's some who'd like to read it,
Expose me for what it's worth;
They should proceed with caution,
They have their own Scrapbook.