Nature poetry written prior to the twentieth century always described nature as a place of beauty and contentment.
Today the view of nature is entirely different.
We live in a world where man destroys more than he builds; where it is more acceptable to thrown down rather than pick up.
Our once pristine world is quickly disappearing.
I write nature poetry as I see it today or as it may be seen in the future.
The two poems I include here are such.
Neither is the way nature should be, sadly they are as nature is, or soon will be portrayed.
My hope for the future, I pray, I am mistaken.
Rich In Life And Lore Once this land was rich in life and lore as nature intended, an artistic rendition, acres sculpted, developed by creator tools, wildlife abundant, a harmonious balance, a glorious celebration of everyday life.
At center stage, a creek fed pond bristling with life; an equal benefit to all.
Trees and foliage provide comfort and protection against the elements and predation, little ones, afforded the opportunity survive to maturity; provide the building codes to maintain the environment, keeping it cleansed and healthy, reducing the threat of debilitating disease.
The basic building blocks now dwellings of builder's tools spaced to maximize, eliminate every bit of once forest and glen, trees and foliage leveled to ground, natures creatures, dead or moved on, the pond, where life used to abound, now a septic tank seeps untreated toxins into its ground.
Aesthetic and artistic exist no more, chemicals and pollutants poison the earth, unbalanced, nature nowhere to be found.
Once this land was rich in life and lore, this stanza, repeated over and over, eventually, will not be able to repeat anymore.
Desolation I live upon a once pure land, from beyond the atmosphere where life exists, it transforms drawing a picture of landscapes etched in minuscule detail, breathtakingly beautiful.
Upon the land, nothing so grand, tread upon and bled, devastation and waste abound.
An atmosphere struggling, losing, greed inflicts huge wounds scarring the landscape; war contributes, pollution lays to waste rendering useless.
I live on a land no longer pure.
From under the atmosphere where life exists it is transformed, drawing a picture of landscapes etched in vivid detail describing man's betrayal Our past demands retribution, frailty more evident each passing day, a land full of poverty and hate, the past heavily laden in ecological disgrace unable to bear weight a land in motion, its people stagnant.
I live on a land no longer pure, unable to rebound, constant ignorance driven by basic or preconceived need, the future forecast desolation, I pray, I am mistaken.