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If the ocean could speak,
what would it say?

Would it complain about the amount of pollution -
the empty milk cartons and water bottles and plastic...
would it complain about the unsustainable fishing,
the climate change, the oil and gas

Or would it be happy about the better and brighter sides -
like the children running up and down the shore, in and out the water...
boats that sometimes sail swiftly, sometimes gracefully at the surface,
the sailors aboard, never seasick when looking at crashing waves

If the ocean could speak,
what would it say?
Asif Iqbal May 26
Four men from the break of dawn
With axe, hacksaw and *****,
Back and forth swaying their head,
And with their mighty brawn
Were hacking down a giant factory
That took small space on earth
Nurtured by air, water, soil from its birth,
Finally it was razed with great victory.
It was a factory which gave oxygen
That could not be gauged by men.
It provided food and shelter
To many creatures without ever to falter.
Without asking for anyone's labour
To them it did unconditional favour.

After a few days came there many men
To build another giant factory again.
They with great vigour cleared the sod
Built a factory with bricks and iron rod.
It was a factory that took over large area,
Workers feared diseases in their trachea
For it ceaselessly vomitted black smoke;
By its noise neighbours to their horror awoke.
burning rain forests
wild animals with shrinking space to live
growing air pollution
smog in major cities
more than 3,5 million deaths
     due to respiratory diseases
global warming
new insects and other beasties
    in the formerly cooler regions
extreme hurricanes  rainstorms  heatwaves
excessive use of fertilizers by agro-industries
bees are dying
blossoms are left unpollinated
biodiversity is in a flat spin
deserts keep growing globally
fossile fuels are still polluting the air
curious dolphins die in the water of the Thames

after so far hundreds of thousands died of Covid-19
it is high time to see the larger picture
to comprehend interactive phenomena

the pandemic brought earth a little recovery time
the waters have cleared
you can actually see fish in the canals of Venice
satellite pictures show clear air over metropolises

suggesting: the new normality after the pandemic
must be significantly different from the old one

do we really need hundreds of thousands to die?
does it need a virus for us to understand

that we need a different relationship to nature?!!
The prophet ordered
To wish your hand
And get wished your members
To clean up
Your out appearance
As well as your heart

Wish as you perform a pollution
As you will pray before you eat and after
Your member will clean

When you hear someone ill
Tell him to be in
His home and not be out

The ill or sick must not come
Or visit the right and healthy one
To keep the people so cured

If the pest is ascended
At any land
God may keep every land
One must not get at
This causality land
To keep the society sound

And one does not visit
To be safe and right
If one has cured
God prevents every worst
And the cure is not advanced
And he gets dead
With great faith and patient
He will be considered as martyr at the battle
Who fights against the bad enemies
Or he defends his wealth
Or fights to protects his sons
Or his beloved wife
Who carries every smart sense
He will be at best heavens
That is the brief of the prophet tales
this bad things which occur to world must give us the signs to prtect ourselves from every harm and follow the instruction from the wise and good persons who has deal with clear and the upper spirit
Manda Kolav May 14
Tweet tweet! what a beautiful bird I am,
The sun a yellow comb, strokes
My little juniper tree and me.
La-dee-da.

I’ll fly across
The stone yew and its chuffing
Fugue.

I’ll watch the
Shotgun wedding of
smoke and leaves.

I'll watch their breathes
Catch and stumble
While the chimney boys sing
And the choir boys weep.
La-dee-da.

Filthy bird song! They shout
Like bullets.

As I fall onto my mother's nest.

She’ll unfold her downy hands
And there in the tickled pits of her palms,
Will splutter and wail
A filthy black bird
With its filthy smoked cloak

And
Her eyes will glaze,
Returning my dismal hums. She
Will fetch a shiny name for me
In the cracks of bourgeois cobble.
****!

And it will all just be a joke
La-dee-da

And I will be a joke
La-dee-da

And I will stretch my wings
and

drown.
Mansi Patel Apr 27
Have we gendered the earth
As a female
So we can control
And own her?
Random thought I had while driving
Paul Butters Apr 27
Covid 19 is shockingly lethal,
Killing thousands all over the world.
We are imprisoned in Pandemic Lockdown,
Confined to our homes for seemingly endless days.

Yet these clouds have silver linings.
No more daily social drinking for me.
Complete control of what I eat.
Time, oceans of time, to get my house in order.
Time to reflect and write.
I might even get
Into good shape.

The skies are clearing too.
Much less pollution
From factories and cars.
China can be seen from space
Free from smog.
Animals are returning.
We saw a squirrel in our close the other day
For the first time in twenty odd years.
And the gulls have come inland
For more food.
Chaffinches and robins on my lawns
And foxes even bolder than they were before.

All this is showing us:
There is another way.
We don’t have to ravage Mother Earth
Chop down the trees
Or fill the air with smoke.

Nor do we need to classify us all
As Patricians or Plebs:
Iniquitous inequality.
Or make Money our God
Like modern Midases.

There is indeed a better way.
Which begs the question:
What will it take to make the human race
See sense?

Paul Butters

© PB 27\4\2020. (Slightly amended 28\4).
In these trying times of The Pandemic.
Francie Lynch Apr 24
Let me take you back
Over ***-holed tracks
To present day nostalgia;
When six feet away meant a grave,
And not a rule of order.

Let me take you back
Through ***** air,
When smog and soot were normal;
We didn't attend strange masquerades,
Breathing wasn't formal.

Let me take you back
Down the spiral stairs,
When holding rails
Was common, and expected.

Would you,
Go back,
To that Brave Old World,
Where we have the poor,
Wars are raging,
The environment's in peril,
With despots engaging.
Hoarders cheat,
Ice-caps retreat,
Animals compete
With billions at the table.
Oceans over-heating,
Egos are defeating
The food chains of our world.
Forests burn bright,
Crops rot from blight,
None treat us right.
And a hundred thousand unsolved queries,
Compounded by some glorious leader.

Let's not go back,
Take small steps onward
Into our Brave Newer World,
That compels us forward.
A tip of the cap to Shakespeare.
Grey Apr 20
There she sits alone,
silence in the night.
Her back's against the willow tree
and the moon's her only light.

The ground is cracked and broken,
the tree's leaves brown and dry,
but despite the death surrounding,
she feels like she could fly.

Above, the stars are glistening
like her earth-brown eyes
because what she just has realized
is that she can see the skies.

Though the city's crumbling
as the virus spreads,
she rejoices in the living
while they start to count the dead.

As fear holds down its victims,
keeping them inside,
Mother Earth has been spring cleaning
and soon she’ll be revived.

The once-black air is crystal clear
and the mountain range stands proud.
It’s a sight to see for miles around,
no longer covered in dark shrouds.

Beside the bright blue waters,
deer come out to play.
As they romp around the stream
fish quickly swim away.

The sky is bright and beautiful,
the water’s clear and clean,
and the animals are all smiling
because we're nowhere to be seen.

So as you leave your houses
one fateful summer day,
remember that we’re temporary
while Earth is here to stay.
4/21/2020
Thanks Erian Rose for helping me! :)
The prompt was to write a poem about a "hot topic."

Alternate ending:
But when you come outside again
and **** that fresh green grass
Mother Earth will sigh with sadness,
for all good things shall pass. (I originally wrote "come to pass" which sounds better here, but I later realized that it actually has the opposite of the intended meaning so I had to change it. Also, the second line in this stanza is pretty bad but since I decided not to use this anyway, I never changed it.)
Machine head at the wheel
Getting instruction 
Traitors of life bringing
Final destruction 

Fleeing from flames 
Crying tribes losing homes
All left behind is 
Dry cracked bones 

1984 is the present 
World leaders lying
**** your agenda!
Can’t you see the world’s dying?
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