Our Planet Weeps

I look around the world today

I look at where I choose to stay

I see the beauty being erased

By destruction and disgrace


The machinations of progress

Put on the planet great distress

The comfort in I want to live

Our paradise can no longer give


Where are we going, what is the meaning of our life?

What are we doing, why do we change what we don’t like?

Where is the plan here, I haven’t seen a single page?

Where are we going, it’s time to look at what we’ve made?


We’ve raped the seas, killed the trees, eaten all the life

We’ve filled the air, without a care, slept soundly every night

Poisoned the ground, cut it down, shaped it to our will

Left for the rest, a ruined mess, a paradise that kills


We’ve cracked the crust, turned to dust, the very soil we need

Cut out the heart, just to start, a motor we don’t need

Done everything, our mind conceived, at any time and place

Abused the trust, possession lust, what hopes left for our race


Jobs are not, the must have got, purpose of our being

And money won’t, feed the world, when soil can’t sprout a seed

Change it now, anyhow, we’ll feel the change that comes

Join with me, we all can be, the earth and us as one


When are you starting, go from right now do it today?

What are you thinking, project new life and not decay?

What are you doing, only you can change your life?

Where are we going?

Our planets run right out of time



This work is copyright. Apart from any use permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced by any process, nor may any other exclusive right be exercised, without the permission of Neville John Gourley, 2 Sarah Court, Capalaba, Queensland 4157, and dated 04-05-2013.

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a.griffiths57's picture

Our Planet weeps:


What true words your poem tells us of our suffering planet. I like your use of words and style of writing, enjoyed reading your poem, although it certainly tells of a grave message for all of us. I shall try to be less pollutant of the earth and it's commodities.




nightlight1220's picture

how true is that? lovely!

how true is that? lovely!

...and he asked her, "do you write poetry? Because I feel as if I am the ink that flows from your quill."

"No", she replied, "but I have experienced it. "