Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2020
Whoseforest

flames hail,
so They wail
in Whoseforest.

the smog of it all,
has the system dull
in Whoseforest.

wails of help resound,
but are Their voices really found?

a peasant man’s dime too little,
a wealthy man’s dime too many.
                                 lackthereof
the kings lounge
as scorn rages
and rages
and rages
in Whoseforest.

the peasants beg,
“your majesty!
choking up
our lungs,
Their lungs,
Her lungs.
this tragedy
is one of ours
of yours
deploy a strategy
have you not?”

the kings sit
with the wealthy
sipping tea
eyes lit
with lax smiles.

but just like Them,
their voices go
unfound.

peasant, wealthy, royalty
all born and bred
of the same ancestry
brothers cry,
but brothers stray

They too,
both and bred
of their ancestry
but descendants soon
fall flat

mother nature now speaks,
“for we are all born and bred
of the same hearth
should it not be our earth
to love and share?”
She,too, wails
for Whoseforest.

so tell me now,
whose forest?
in light of the recent unfortunate australia wildfires :(
Written by
kristine w  F
(F)   
377
     ilo and Bogdan Dragos
Please log in to view and add comments on poems