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Frank P Whyte

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  A Rage of Land and Sea
by Frank P Whyte
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
Rated "G" by the Author.

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Recent poems by Frank P Whyte
•  Missing Things and Gangsta` Jeans
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           >> View all 318





Filled with the rage of a thousand days,
Bellowing from a mountain top,
Stop your senseless murder, fools,
So that prior to your dying day,
You might imagine recompense
And penitence
To save your godless souls!.

I recently saw the hills
Of the magnificent Great Northwest,
Between the abomination
And the mighty sea,
Forests razed with impunity,
Left for dead were they,
Exchanging lush verdant splendor
For dying browns and grays,
As the coffers fill for the prospector,
Who extorts oxygen from your brood
During lavish dinners in Old Alexandria;
Brown bags and money,
Flesh for the Fat Man’s play,
Seven deadly sins, it seems,
God, where is justice today?

Somewhere in the southern seas
The deadly fleet prowls silently,
While the gentle giants
Start their families,
Amidst the ice floes of Antarctica.
They are wiser than us, as you know,
These brilliant mammoths of the deep,
Never bringing harm to another,
As they live their lives in relative peace.
It is insufficient, however,
To bring not woe to another,
For if you represent profit
You will discover,
That you will be pursued to the ends of the earth.

It is the same across the land and sea
As the planet has been defiled,
The lust for money will bring us down,
No matter civilized, domestic, or wild.
Great oratory has been rendered
In hallowed halls,
Empty rhetoric to glorify the man,
As the magnificent creatures of the deep blue sea,
Sing their glorious song,
Ballads of peace sent throughout the galaxy,
As the harpoon boats patrol relentlessly,
Seeking to exterminate the gentle giants of the deep,
As if they were veins of gold.

Why, man must you destroy your jewels,
These magnificent gifts of a benevolent God?
How can you look to the future
With blind eyes,
As you steal from the progeny that you love,
Collective shepherds of the land and sea?
But we sit, passively in our living rooms
While crimes against humanity rage,
But there is no World Court, it seems,
For those unable to protect themselves
Linguistically,
So let the slaughter commence.

We will be held accountable
For the sins of our collective desires,
Only as strong as our weakest link,
Who the beauty of our planet defiles;
So cast an ear to the southern seas,
And a glance to the Great Northwest,
And listen to the cries of unsuspecting murder,
From our curious cousins of the deep,
And as your grandchildren gasp for air,
Remember if you will, recall if you dare,
The magnificent forests of glorious trees,
And shed also, my friends, a tear for these.

 




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Reviewed by Cryssa C 1/9/2009
One can learn so much from your poetry...
Cryssa
Reviewed by Charlie 1/7/2009
I get myself lost in your rhymes, my friend. Gorgeous writing-- and with a purpose to boot! --Charlie
Reviewed by Karla Dorman, The StormSpinner 1/6/2009
The Rage of Land and Sea is Nature taking back her own. Add Storm and you've got one ticked off Mother. LOL Powerfully penned, Frank, well done.

(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.

Books by
Frank P Whyte



Hearts of Gold

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Remedies of Choice

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