Though you’ve been battered
soil speeding, industrial farm
with the tracks to prove it--
soybeans one year, corn the next,
never fallow--
There was still a small piece of you
that did cry "Wild!"
Especially when geese flew
chanting ancient sky songs,
drumming wings sole
remainder of reptilian thunder.
Amen
to you now.
We hear you’ll soon be
molded, sculpted and drenched
in yet more poison—
You’ll be a golf course
by spring.
Juliet
Applause applause for the brave and wise poet unafraid to say it as it is! And when we run out of land to till we'll eat golfballs. Wonderful, Juliet, wonderful, thank you.
John
It is truly sad to see a way of life that sustained so many for so very long just dissappear to the greed of man...a golf course does nothing to feed the hungry but a farm? We always need food.
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Applause applause for the brave and wise poet unafraid to say it as it is! And when we run out of land to till we'll eat golfballs. Wonderful, Juliet, wonderful, thank you.
John
the loss of nature...Superb poem!
ET
(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in Tx., Karen Lynn. :( >tears! <
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
Tears are running down my face from the intensity of these lines -
Edwin
fee
progress is our most important product.
The world of course needs another golf course.
-gene.