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On the vast plundered valley and plains,
Stands a lonely frightened tree.
Tumultuous waves of destruction abound her.
A sense of doom around, the human encroach.
Her swinging canopy gives a sorrowful bow.
Ungrateful ingrate, power saws coughs with thirst.
And axes grind with menace on her ebony skin.
From every fissures tears fall as cuts deep.
Her cry resonant echoing befallen kin.
Memories are vivid, that stagnate time of the thud.
Blind we celebrate plentiful lumber and tracks.
Woe to us, as the murder cast forth curses.
With a last breath, she kicks with vengeance.
Tears dried, we celebrate more deserts and no rain.
As my guilty mind longs to give her a new life.
Let save our trees, do something! Before its too late.
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Writer Profile
dave
Poetry is passion; my passion - It is the voice of the voiceless. I write poems through inspiration from day to day events and experiences in my life. With what happens in our society I hope to create awareness, inspire positive responses and in turn, learn from others.
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Comments
Nice Poetry Chantelle Ennis-Charoo | Oct 10th, 2008
This poem is something I think is an excellent wake up call to the declining forests in the world.
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