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autumn Dec 2022
The sound of Christian’s voice stirs me, awake
the vision of undulating ridges—verdant—
as my head falls, slowly, the window of the van
a glimpse of light through the rock on water
My coup de foudre. Southern France
with winding roads and biking hills
Take me to where the Ardèche flows.
Goodbye to the sweater shed from shoulder.
Lunch eaten fresh in October by the river.
Comté and baguette spread on our blanket.
We are off to Nîmes
Where butterflies are chased, beneath the bridge
the water rushes below me.
Delicate steps.

In Arles, the Rhône
where I can dream.
A quiet stream only for me
and those whose memory swims on
behind the easel—
natural and wild—so near—
masked by morning mist
that brushes, alters, clouds Vincent’s canvas
to a “foggy day over the Rhône,” we should say
and an old painting feels like home under
the stars. Am I free?
River scintillates in the dark of night
where I sit. The reflection is of me.
For my course in environmental literature.
Carlo C Gomez Sep 2022
an interstellar vacuum
is far from empty,
all the water in the universe
is melted comets,
and it floods all reason.

bloodstar from afar
or Cape Canaveral close,
no astral projection there,
only a cipher in a foreign quadrant
big, wet, unsympathetic drops.

hear it now!
the sonic boom of
marooned tourism,
in short shots,
fast cuts,
horizonal eddy currents
ripe with thorns,
like lakes of suspicion,
if God is listening
then this mission is in trouble.

downcycled planet in the wires
and cigarette lighters,
a home without space,
Andromeda chained in sacrifice
to sate the monster,
her punishing beauty
cascading over the peril
that everything in the universe
is recyclable – even you!
Andrew M Bell May 2022
(In memory of Norris Hickey 1935-2014)

Love of family and fly-fishing: twin tributaries flowed
into your heart like a braided river.
Paradoxically, a sociable man who preferred to be alone
on some braided river,
basking in the peace of the wilderness,
hearing only birdsong and the gentle whirr of the fly line,
its nylon whipping to where you hoped the fish would rise.
Patience comes easily in peaceful surroundings,
unlike waiting for the blessing of grandchildren.
Eventually rewarded with five blessings.
You always said what a lucky man you were.
I’m glad your luck held because you would weep to see
your precious braided rivers drying up down here,
****** dry by the farmers’ greed for white gold
and the threatened tarāpunga (Black-billed gulls)
getting their nests crushed by callous four-wheel drives.
It would be enough to make your big, generous heart burst.

© Andrew M. Bell
Carlo C Gomez Aug 2021
a falling boy's
measured out footprint,
slipping in vain search
for a breadcrumb of solace

lost is spring, and green,
and bird nesting,
lost is his mother's smile,
he breathes in deeply

a memory of trees,
an afternoon sun
emptied of fertility:
a high wood on its last, teetering legs

urban air is everywhere
and wishes to be free,
but we are all carbon emissions,
separate living-dying pieces

polluted hieroglyphics
with nothing to convey,
fragments of a prayer
with nothing left to say
Jasmine Reid Sep 2020
i hate the weeds but i love the bees that
keep me company
passing times
Akshita Aug 2020
Climate change is real
And everywhere
It haunts our Earth
Every hour of every day

Alas! The nations
Least responsible for it
Tend to suffer
The most
Akshita Aug 2020
We only have one Earth,
So why don't we live and act like it?
Why do we go on
Wasting non-renewable resources?
Why do we keep on
Hunting and haunting wildlife?
Why do we continue
Chopping down the trees?
Why do we pretend
That there's another planet B?
Simon Jul 2020
There is no essential self that can't not weep their desires outward for their own delicate surface of skin not to notice. Since skin is the surface area of ALL sensory receptors to firstly take in the rush of potential environmental information. However, the most pleading debate that tears are still flowing despite me not feeling the need to weep in the first place. That's because whatever rush of environmental information came splashing your very skin and the receptors that (majority wise) make sure to immediately take in (as if by automatic purposes). They entirely relay that very information by the balance of how your emotions simply took it. Which by judging simply by how I'm essentially tearing up, myself just went through an even bigger withdrawal, than I previously thought!
When you essentially tear up, you don't see a lot of data that seems to become sparked from deep inside yourself. That's because you aren't as self-aware as you give yourself credit first!
PS... If you think otherwise...then why are you essentially still tearing up...?
The morning sun whispers
to the awakening day.
Rivers flow serenely,
as the animals of the earth
sip from its unsoiled water.
Each body of existence
lives in harmony
with one another.
No pollution.
No greed.
No pain.
Just peace.
-the day the earth stood still // I.M
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