Promise quoted- a celebration given if
Not late then certainly not early
Enough, what’s a few billion years
To acknowledge your existence, return the
Wind blown as a gentle kiss from your lips
With grace and regulation in 1970 Earth Day
Was consecrated and the Clean Air Act was passed:
Your candles were sapling trees planted
Wax analogies that would grow giving us
Again, the ability to breathe easy, ten years on
Coal continued to be taken from history’s bloodline-
Vandalizing our own flesh and bone
To burn a little brighter
In the grand scheme
Is to suffer for a longer period of time

Sulfur released from impurities confiscated
Floats into the atmosphere forms dioxides
Mingles with nitrogen and water to form acids, ten years on
The true nature of ignorance makes the front page:
Lake acidification kills fish destroys that which
Has otherwise treated us so kindly, at this point
The National Acid Precipitation Assessment Program is established
Investigate the issue
Great Mother forgive us
For we are naive children who’ve been
Blessed with an immense gift, feeble minded
Unable to cherish that which has always been
Seemingly infinite, our strengths are obvious
But these weaknesses are vast and we
Are just beginning to gain consciousness, In 1995 the Acid
Rain Program is implemented to lower sulfur output,
A slow process met with success emissions
Fall below 1980 levels- for everything received it’s a start,
Repair the relationship between you and I as honorary
Representative of your children, curse words said out of
Confusion finally we are able to realize this is reflexive
To abuse you is to pour corrosives
On our own skin, invest in renewable energy
Turn the electricity off when not in use,
Great Mother embrace these frail arms once more
Sew these holes shut
The ozone layer has slowly been patched
Since CFCs were banned nearly forty years ago,
For now we are not
Clean or rectified though rest assured,
We’re getting there

A poem written for a Physical Science Class
SweetPea 15h

the sound of a hammer
water flows near by
pauper fixing his mower
head shining in the shadow
of fire, torch in his house

food in a bowl steams, crickets
sing. islands like animals asleep
nesting, murmuring
clouds above

...bucolic/pastoral/ XIX century village

Mother Earth quakes
Absorbing tears from heaven
Like gifts on her greening robes
Her heart aches
She knows our fears
Within her are endless globes

I marched with thousands of concerned fellow lovers of the earth today who showed up despite the rain, trying to defend our planet, the voice of science and the human right to seek and speak truth.  It was inspiring.

Life is nothing more than madness.
Probably there is no karma, no right, no wrong.
It's all a bunch of mechanic or random probabilities fighting against emotions, which are simply chemical reactions happening in our brain. Often good people get bad things, bad people get good things.
Simple: no meaning, no reasons.
We have these curious habits to give life some meaning just because we want some sort of reward for our efforts.
We put effort in things because inside and deeper each one of us is a dreamer, even the most skeptical man on earth.
But we should go through madness first, to get rid of our inner-fake-dreamer, to unlearn the bullshits we have been told from birth and to re-learn how to dream properly, with the help of a less magic but different truth.
If we decide to go through madness we need to know we may not come out sane from it, and sometime we will have left just that little bit to keep going and survive. If we succeed we will understand that there is nothing to win, nothing to lose, that is all about perception and everything is a cyclic succession of experiences to use wisely.
- Manuela Camporaso

A child on the beach today
Reached down and took hold
Of this Earth with one bare hand.

Squeezing tight he lifted the sand
Up to his curious eyes and watched it
Spilling out through his fingers.

The tighter he grasped it
The more certain it fell,
The more it fell the more curious he became.

Another handful, and another.
Each time more manic, each time more certain
This Earth was not to be held.

And then laughter and abandoned glee
Grabbing the sand and throwing it up
And watching it fall.

Beguiled by the physicality,
Empowered by the gaiety,
Of what a hand can do.

This Earth, so fragile a child can tear it apart.
This Earth, so beyond our grasp
It slips away the tighter we hold it.

Grass beneath my feet
and soil in my hands,
tipping.
Your lips on mine,
wrapping me around your fingers
and splitting the silence
with anticipation,
falling.
I keep waiting for the world
to one day become still
but you dizzy and confuse me
as if you are a planet
and I am the asteroid
caught in your orbit.

~~ I love this. ~~
Nylee 1d

The earth is so generous ,
it has given us all
so many things , each so precious
without charging us any toll

Lori 1d

tigers and lions and bears will be children's stories
one day.

we consumer society so much plastic on our faces
relying on fossil fuels for money and survival

setting the ecosystem off its center like the tower
of Pisa we keep using using and taking taking

the land is our mother will we abandon her? everyday
we stomp huge carbon footprints over her garden

take a step back see black smog rain clouds so
paint the sky brushstrokes of gold, blue and white

if our land is off balance and disrespected
our lives will be affected

humans will be stories the mother Earth whispers
one day.

georgic prompt. i think this was a lazy one.

i went through my mid-life crisis at twenty.
i dare say, that doesn't bode well for my longevity.
five years on and now i've done
twenty-five arbitrary circles
around the sun. a quarter century
spent spinning like a top
upon this pale blue dot.
one year older and i've only grown
colder at the thought of a life
stuck, stranded on this rock.

in the grand scheme of reality,
i am but a solitary blip in a lonely corner
of the Milky Way. the galaxy gasped
and, in the blink of an eye, i passed
once more into nothingness—finite.
with my last act, i'll whisper,
"it is finished" and breathe
a sigh of relief.

but a piece of me will last an eternity.
like the hammer of the gods, i was forged
in the core of a dying hyper-giant.
my bones are fashioned from star-stuff
and to that same dust i return, inexorably,
tugged apart in the fusion of the multiverse,
scattered to all corners of the cosmos.

when humanity is long extinct, molecules
that once belonged to our bodies will cling
to each other and build new bonds.
i'd like to think that i'll find you there, lovely,
rotating and waiting for me,
adrift in the fabric of space-time,
so we might embark on a new journey
and spend a moment or two entwined.

National Poetry Month, Day 22.

Wide open are your arms  
The sun is a small paintbrush  
Every daybreak it draws  
Exposes you new as ever!  
  
The surges in the billows  
Blow out swimming clouds  
Across the globe.  
No they don’t splash out to  
The starry thrillers on the sky  
They all are a dwarf bunch  
Draws down to you kind Moon:  
Down to earth on the ground  
Spares the heap for all
for the day for the noon.  
  
Then you are there too far afar  
The lotus in bloom on uncharted water.  
If only one can describe it o mother  
Everyone is lost for words!

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