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Kitten Yvad Mar 28
it seems to have taken
mold now but there
are no cold sounds where

verdant things kiss
the mountain rounds

and i promise this
where audobon park
grows listening, sighs are
met to sighs where homes are

you know this;
that it's not far
Paul Butters Mar 18
Shapely steaming trees make clouds of their own:
Raining daily on the rainforest.
Rumbling jungles serenaded by a clichéd cacophony of birdsong.

I love all trees wherever they are:
Pinewoods in temperate zones,
Palms on tropical isles,
Ancient oaks full of magic.

See breeze kissed canopies high in the sky,
Forests deep in mysterious gloom.
Let Attenborough portray the rest.
Tarzan and Robin Hood to reign forever.
Keep your axes and saws away.
Let’s plant as many trees as we can
And watch them grow.

Paul Butters

© PB 18\3\2021.
Written early one Thursday morning.
Brett Oct 2020
The wind pushes west
On through the trees
As the stars rest beyond the clouds
I can’t see a way out
As the night sings aloud
The forest tells her story
As the leaves kiss the ground
Nature gathers to scream
As no one hears a sound
The fire crackles at my feet
As the creature’s circle round
The vines begin to wither
As the redwoods come crashing down
I can’t see a way out
Adi N Oct 2020
What you exhale, we inhale,
a transaction that costs nothing
but one that keeps us living.

We have been busy exploiting,
So keep forgetting
that life cannot exist without you.

This forgetfulness could end us,
but you will rise from the ashes again
to nurture life in the future.
Its time now or else it will be too late for humans. Each and everyone must show their gratitude to the natural world and live in harmony with it.
Paul Butters Sep 2020
Earth – you little blue gem:
Oasis in a great black desert.
Perhaps Unique
With your single Moon –
Queen of The Tides
Or one of millions of Earths
Scattered throughout Space.
Who knows?

Sky blue seas
Draped in cloud curtains
Hints of brown and green
On continents
Teeming with Life.

Paradise Planet
Rich diversity
Of plants
And animals.

Taken for granted
I’m afraid
By people too busy
To appreciate
Her beauty.

All they do is rip down her forests
Bounty hunt for trophies
And make her a greenhouse
Heading towards a Hell
Like Venus.

I hope they soon see sense,
Close down those ugly factories
Allowing our Earth
To cool again.

Does all intelligent life destroy itself
In the end?
Is this why space is silent
When we should be deafened
By radio broadcasts
From other worlds?

I hope not.
The choice is ours.
But first we must open our eyes.
Open them to the sheer beauty
And Splendour
Of our Mother Earth.

Paul Butters

© PB 24\9\2020.
Beautiful Earth.
Bee Jun 2020
imagine the trees lined up long and kissing the sky from their big tree families
there in the trees sits a baby bird while he waits for his worm when his father arrives
and the worm wiggles while he remembers gracing the palm of a girl who pulled him out of a watery demise and the rain clouds above kissed the sweet girl’s head
the clouds carried mighty and strong strength to the living and remembrance of the dead
as it poured into rivers and streams and oceans and lakes, the people danced around their source of joyous bounty before they ate

the people loved their bountiful land and learned the language of the trees
so they could share each other’s needs and meet each other in harmony
the people tugged, and their land pulled, a balancing act perfected out of love and serenity

the animals they nurtured and protected with great care so that their circle of peace would exist without need for repair
because the people loved the animals and the animals loved them so they built a great big kingdom for them all to live
Betty May 2020
Larks don't need parks

They need ploughed fields and waving grain

If they are to remain

They soar and sing of joy unbound

But they are rarely found
Skylarks are becoming rare
Cymon Bailey May 2020
All around is the symphony of nature, we all need but to listen
What sweet song bird beckons his love
What silvery fish leaps to waters above
What tear shaped dew befalls the grass
What sustained wood of golden brass
What insect call of buzz and hum
What water beating a rock like a drum

All around is the symphony of nature, we all need but to listen
What cold breeze sweeps the land
What shaped the stone with windy hand
The reds and whites of mountains rise
What raptors soaring hunt with cries
What arid wind provide the breeze
What sweet fruit fall from mesquite trees

All around is the symphony of nature, we all need but to listen
What emerald fur coats the ground
What colourful buds blossom to be found
What grazing goat or elk does call
What primordial leviathan does the lake trawl
What chittering tree folk bound and play
What beautiful land inspires dreams of fae

All around is the symphony of nature, we all need but to listen
What black scars paint across the land
What dark smog clouds the sky
What metallic beasts speed across the ground
What obelisks of the new age rise and fall
What plastics change tides of the sea

Why do we take this gift and burn it
Why do we scrape holes in her skin
We grow and expand and grow and expand
Why are we deaf to the symphony
When the beasts leave the land it will be by our hand
When the birds leave the sky it will be by our ambition
When the fish leave the sea it will be by our greed
I have travelled around the globe and have seen so many natural wonders, but no matter how far out I venture, I can still find detritus, trash and litter.
Nick Stiltner Mar 2020
Seas of swaying green reduced to gray city skylines (the triumphant results of our modern enlightenment)
Slicked oil waters pulse from the refineries, defeated heads held down against the cold winds walk the streets.
Malaise grips the populace,
our attention at every turn deftly averted to the trivial.
Welcome one, welcome all, to the Anthropocene.

Smoke stacks bellowing, pockets full of printed greenbacks thickening,
the overwhelming scents of greed and gluttony bleed into everything.
Throw your trash to the streets, stomp the last embers and smear ash on the wall,
Look around and you will see humanities closing scenes.
Welcome one, welcome all, to the Anthropocene.

It seems in the end truth has left us,
hope has evacuated,
it’s speakers replaced with puppets
That dance and masquerade on taught strings.
Come in my friends, take your seats in the audience,
The show has already begun!
The lights are dimming and the pieces well set,
Welcome one, welcoming all, to the Anthropocene.

Continents ablaze, reduced to decayed black.
The streets of your home flooded,
Mother Nature holding on by a trembling thread,
And in all of our brightest intellect,
We do not reknit the thread.
Instead of reversing our own mistakes, instead of adjusting our sails to the changing winds,
we hold the scissors to that trembling string and begin to cut with a smile.
Manicured life,
Monocultured lawns perfectly maintained through the drought, appearances kept up through the drowning monsoon winds.

Welcome, my dearest friends, to the end of our days, whether you agree to them or not,
Welcome to the first conscious mass extinction, brought to you by the height of human innovation
Welcome, my brothers and sisters, to the Anthropocene.
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