WastelandsA Poem by Brenda Woods
Your pollution turns to wastelands;
rubble piled in mountains, smog shrouding you like a thick blanket. You never realise until you choke how this is toxicity, smothering your lungs and poisoning your blood, draining life of colour and beauty until all that's left is grey, empty wastelands. You can hold beauty in one palm, crush it with the other. Breathe in pure oxygen, exhale and inhale again. Watch, observe--- the greenery of this planet gives birth; to the next breath you take, to the precious, sweet sustaining of life, succulent fruits and parchment that holds wisdom, rustling leaves and melodious birdsong. You can hold perfection in one palm, crush it with the other. You're a child ripping leaves from trees, grown to find beauty in fire, destruction, willing to tear down forests that sustain you. Breathe in, breathe out; every breath replaced, renewed, rainforests destroyed, habitats stolen. One day this planet won't be so green. One day this planet won't hold so much beauty. You can hold life in one palm, crush it with the other. And when the beauty starts to turn grey, pollution piled up in wastelands, when the precious air that we breathe isn't so sweet, when trees choked and poisoned aren't so green; perhaps then, we'll realise we are killing ourselves. © 2015 Brenda WoodsReviews
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4 Reviews Added on January 25, 2015 Last Updated on January 25, 2015 Tags: wastelands, spoken word, environment, environmental AuthorBrenda WoodsAuckland, New ZealandAbout19 year old costume student. I love costumes, cosplay, music and writing. Flute player since 2005, I also play piccolo, guitar and ukulele. Most of my writing tends to be poetry or lyrics/songwriting,.. more..Writing
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