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Nature, let us learn from thee;
   let us feel your wind and grace!
Nature, let us grow with thee;
   let us see your forgiving face!
Nature, let us shine with thee;
   let us sing in fields of barley!
Nature, let us win with thee,
   let us flee this enmity and parley!

  Your tranquil eyes know no haste
      with what we waste;
      our beauty effaced!

   Your sleepless heart knows no time
      with what we’ve signed;
      no aspiring chimes!

Nature, let us learn from thee;
   let us be our makers dream!
Nature, let us learn from thee;
   let us be your faithful stream ...
Decades pass like seconds-
Ever closer till we go,

Flowers wilt from acid rain-
How could you not know?

You taste sorrow on the wind-
Drifting past us, it may slow,

It's my turn to say goodbye,
Never colder will we grow.

And then, in a lightning flash,
You know they spoke the truth!

A brilliant mind, a dire warning,
But you ignored the youth.

A cinder party, a barren tree,
Another extinction unknown,

Blind behind gilded palace walls,
You can die there, all alone.
I came from the old times dancing on a
hillside which toppled into lakes, tipping
down into endless valleys of green and
blue, my hands in the palms of a stranger.
I kissed him under fog as the oil rigs
skittered across the water, finches swooping
to protect their young. As a laughing melody
hummed between us, electric and satisfied,
I felt our hands shining so brightly in
the darkness around. I sang an old song
in the woods and it echoed back to me.

Roots run deep and wild. At first they lay quiet,
toes buried in moss, and I wondered if
the leaf felt my touch as silken, smooth as
water, or jagged as the stones beneath
it. And then they were livid, raging, boiling
under the surface as I stood above
screaming water, churning the earth from the
edges of the river, eating away
at the land I was bound to. Desolate
and sodden, I faltered on the borders
of my home town, longing for the heaviness
of salt to catch on my tongue once more.

And then I changed, or grew, and forgot what
it was I had lost. Now, looking down upon
empty forests, I no longer remember
the song they are singing, yet I hear the scent
of a dead earth, the sound of a mushroom
breaking at the stem. Lying on lamenting
sands, I feel a droplet land on my cheek
and, for a moment, feel a whisper
of home. Carrying my feet from the meadows,
I'll mutter softly, singing my melody alone.
Carl D'Souza Jul 21
I just watched a news report:
Global numbers of insects are halving every 25 years
Bees Butterflies Moths and other species disappearing
which is a problem because
it kills Birds Reptiles Fish which live off the insects,
and insects pollinate 75% of crops which humans grow,
and 87% of all plant species on the planet need pollinating;
if insects die then flowering plants will die,
most plants will die.
Why are insects dying?
Farmers are blamed for using pesticides
but there may be other causes too.

I was left wondering:
Is there something we can do
to save insects and plants?
all together
with numbers and rulers we form
circles in playgrounds like schoolgirls

with jump ropes and all with short sing song rhymes
short, and now shorter, now shorter
like ozone

with long life hum whispers and all with eyes
like lacking
Written by Justin Aptaker, 2006
Isabel May 5
She sits
Atop a myrtle bush
Wingless
She cannot fly
But sends out her desire
Her future dreams
Through the unsuspecting air
Her belief
In distant generations
Borne upon the breeze
Hope of the unseen
Messaged across the barren lands
And am I powerless?
This is inspired by a moth we came across in the Scottish Highlands whilst working with Trees for Life (look them up!). The female is wingless but sends out pheromones to bring the winged males to her to breed. It was also inspired by the Extinction Rebellion/ climate change protests which were happening at the same time, so dedicated to the marvellous Greta Thunberg.
Dominique Apr 20
One hundred and five thousand,
One hundred and twenty hours.
Time you drown in while sleeping,
Or scrub in the shower.
The minutes that accumulate
When you're waiting for fate
To arrive.
One hundred and five thousand,
One hundred and twenty hours
Of which many you litter around
Casting the seeds of your life to the ground
Reaping your smiles from the words that survive.
One hundred and five thousand-
Some gone already, turned to mist
Imagine the laughter we've missed
Imagine the days you've spent not being kissed-
One hundred and five thousand hours,
Were you buried in books and too busy to look
Or have we just been afraid?
One hundred thousand depleting hours
Till this life of ours can't be saved.
The UN published a report which gave the world 12 years to resolve this climate breakdown before the effects of our consumerism and selfishness devour us whole. I have always been paranoid about wasting time, even when under the illusion that I had time to waste. Do not hesitate. Join extinction rebellion today, even if it's not to preserve the world which gives rise to such beautiful poetry that I frequently read on here. Do it for yourself. Extend your time, don't choke on it. Much love to all <3
Francie Lynch Mar 12
We have seen the magic bullet
Cure all disease.
Cows won't go extinct.
Lush, green pastures run to the waters' edges.
Twisted ankles in gopher holes are passe.
Trees are well-placed for shade beneath a relentless sky.
The lands are full, plush and crowded
With work-a-day leather. Wool is everywhere.
The barren creeks are clear of poison.
The grunts and runts of the stead
Blissfully graze, munching towards our tables.
Brown eggs thrive in computerized out buildings.
We are idle. No wars, disease or poverty.
It is either life or death by choice.
We implant, are implanted, removeable,
And sustainable as any Victorian.
In place of the Immaculate Heart,
I hang a picture of my old pet, Sophie,
Walking on a balance beam,
With a strange black V high in the sky.
And with all this, we grow fat.
870 species go extinct each year. That would wipe out everything in 10 000 years.
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