As the organiser of this year's Earth day which is on the 22nd of April, I have this sudden urge to compose this poem, envisaging the apocalyptic scenario Man will land himself in if he persists in destroying God's creation. Hopefully it does not come true, but it certainly serves as a cautionary tale. Try and analyse what I am trying to hint at, it is quite a tricky poem with multiple layers and perspectives. Hopefully I can enrol myself in it and win a prize for the poetry contest. Enjoy the "Thoughts of a wanderer"
Thoughts of a wanderer
They say she is gonna die,
Thoughts of a wanderer
They say she is gonna die,
so are we just gonna sigh?
.
The pretty little flowers
the lush grass by the roadside
the fluffy white clouds hanging-
against the blue expanse and
the bursts of light peeps through
basking her in golden hue
a canopy of colours
The Creator's masterpiece.
.
They say we ain’t gonna care,
so are we just gonna stare?
.
The tiny weenie i-pods
the metal cogs at the beach
the noxious fumes overhead-
amidst vortexes of Fren-
zy storms, Jupiter’s Red Spot
where day and night collapse.Oh-
Mankind’s very own playground.
.
They say you hafta come back,
what else more do you still lack!
.
The petite fragments of rocks
littered across the bare earth
the sun is reached with a touch.
Perpetual light blinds the sight-
place where there is no darkness
yet we see shadows. How vain
of Man to escape the mess
and make another his home.
.
I inhale from my tube and
leapt off Eville, away from her
Severing all ties- yes all!
With this dark nightmarish world
My memories are intact-
The pretty little flowers
the lush grass by the roadside
the fluffy white clouds hanging-
***********
I can’t hear them.
I’m reaching… soon…
***********
We can’t hold on anymore,
Food has n’ver run out before!
So we turn to each other
***********
The End of Man
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