Poem: Privileged Nature

Beneath the age old trees
the ones who have seen many a human lifetimes
battling centuries
from foraging animals to hunters extreme
there must have been a time once
a time of Trees
tall, wide and generous
the sky above speckled green
with heavy foliage,
there must have been an age revered
nature far outweighing industries and machine-made.
There must have been a time once
when sitting under a tree tall
with leaves swaying in the wind
the blue sky peeking
one must have known in nature he dwelled
but now concrete floors wrap around
as if privileging nature by letting it grow
through crevice and crakes
suddenly a rare relic of days long gone
slowly dwindling into history old.
Trees no more
simply pieces for aesthetic and decor.

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Arty: Peacock–fantabulising the feathers

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Not yet done, but getting there!

Unspoiled

In the cool relief of twilight
after a long sweltering day
traveling the road
she sat on the back of the ute
her tanned legs in shorts stretched out
the light breeze slid past her skin
having picked up the heat
over the desert sand
and she gazed up at the wide and wild sky
never had she seen so many stars
litter the heavens
like tiny fireflies
and there she sat for once in her life
admiring that around her
the faint music jived from the cab behind her
and ahead on the ground
Trent build a fire on the camp ground
before long the music grew louder
as somewhere around
someone strummed their guitar
to the rhythm of crickets abound
she skewered a marshmallow
and thrust it in the fire
every now and then gazing up
at the million dollar glitter
unspoiled, peering down at her
miles away from the hustle of crowds.

Mother Nature

The world would one day break
and cry
she would wonder what it was
that lacked in her care,
did she not provide food
or shelter from the sun and rain
was her air lacking in vitality
or were she negligent and unfair
why has she been scared
cut down, damaged, altered
all the abuse changing her very air
her very being.

Seasons forgot to turn

Peculiarly it seemed
the seasons forgot to turn
the trees stood bewildered
shaking there branches and twigs
watching, waiting for their leaves to fall
the flowers turned their petals out
reaching towards the sun
astounded they did not wilt, nor lose there scent
the birds chirped excited, turning their heads to the horizon
what in the world was happening here
the rivers swelled and gurgled along
nourishing the soil they touched
and instead of frost, pollen fled and floated
streaming down onto the land,
birds and bees and all that’s there looked on
all their heads turned
they watched in silent inquisitive
as the sun lingered on
and the white cotton clouds rolled on.
The trees shook their branches.
Why had the seasons stopped and forgot to turn?
Peculiar it seemed, though life moved on.