By Joseph Olamide Babalola
I found the boiling pot of hurt lurking in the
shadowy border between the love we profess
and the lust we allow to consume us daily
where the plowing is a plundering in advance
we burn every green into a gradual yellowish-red
The alchemy of gases that define the coming days
make us wonder what our grandchildren would breathe
some sing the blues of the green fading out of nature's palette
others celebrate the miracle of brown rust becoming the new gold
it's the same ragged poetry of change tearing out the bard's tongue
In a greedy clime of taking what we
cannot give, giving what we cannot take
where today so much blinded us, we can
barely see tomorrow weeping itself sore
here, where with abandon, we industrialize
the perfect way to self-destruct in style
here our plastic affection holds metallic doom in low esteem
here our foot hurts, where the tar we pressure-cook burns our sole
until one day—God forbid, yes?—there's nothing left to burn of us.
3/4/2023 09:25:34 am
Great 😊 depiction of a memorable befitting as the poem insinuates the melodious unsung of the ancient and also the present dutifulness of a sect. However I wish the origin and native of the people were portrayed to the readers delight. However, it was a nice work. Weldone.
Abubakar Maimuna Esther
3/4/2023 09:57:09 am
This is a well oiled poem!
15/4/2023 12:58:29 pm
This poem refers to a society where people are constantly consuming resources without giving back, or perhaps a social climate where people are always taking from others without reciprocating.
15/4/2023 11:53:32 pm
It is a nice poem but the origin of the people portrayed is missing. I can't connect it to any in the poem.
16/4/2023 12:38:21 am
This poem depicts a society where the delicate balance between "too much" and "enough" has been broken.
24/4/2023 06:57:23 am
I believe this poem is talking about climate and environmental changes. And how human affairs have meddled with the environment/ nature's stability.
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