Author Information
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.
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.
http://www.postpoems.org/authours/a.griffiths57
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. "