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Two Poems from our Nature Poetry Collection
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| The Fountain and the Cistern |
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| Author: |
Helen Koelmans
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| Poem: |
The Fountain and the Cistern
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Writer’s block is our paradox, life’s early morning.
Oh, to be a fountain with words flowing out,
A perpetual stream of poetry to quench all needs.
Woe for exams.
Steady routine.
Linear technicality.
The needs evaporate,
Like the early morning, when light and darkness rule.
Like the early morning: noise and silence are dual.
One world awakes, another to sleep,
While all existence battles the peace to keep.
More common are cisterns, who merely contain.
Content to contain, yet discontent to be content to contain.
Nevertheless they have the block; though merely because of denial
About having it.
Joy for objects, dropping into them to disrupt the evenness,
Sending splashes of elation rippling over the sides.
Objects
Like writer’s block.
Like the early morning, when light and darkness rule.
Like the early morning: noise and silence are dual.
One world awakes, another to sleep,
Dreaming of a time when dear life was cheap.
But we always wake up, early in the morning;
Those untold stories of forgotten peoples, disrupted
Only to see our expectations continually shattered, like a shining mirror of water:
Enough to stir, but not to overflow.
Evaporating wisps of smoke herald the polluting and stifling heat,
The only possible remedy to the brittle and grey cold.
Harsh wind lifts them off the cushion of beauty, the only nature around,
And pulls them into the dreary void of ugly humanity.
Panorama sandwiches: a sliver of heaven,
While purgatory swells above and below.
Odd: it is this which proves to us our privilege.
Like the early morning, when light and darkness rule.
Like the early morning: noise and silence are dual.
One world awakes, another to sleep,
And, early, birds flock the worm to reap.
Some people saw the real dawn once: they stopped to stare
As the sun rose slowly over a mountainous crag.
Those advantaged few, flaunting their privilege among the starving masses.
Yet the few are shattered by Amazement, Disadvantage crushing their backs.
The water bubbles down, unfortunates rise up;
And Luck, in favouring them, has thus averted their luck.
Like the early morning, when light and darkness rule.
Like the early morning: noise and silence are dual.
One world awakes, another to sleep,
While all existence battles the peace to keep.
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More Nature poems |
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| The Fortress |
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| Author: |
Julie Meyers
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| Poem: |
The Fortress |
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A fortress standing tall and proud The storm without, a heavy shroud Within the hallways damp and still A screaming echoes sharp and shrill A voice that's filled wiht grief and pain With blood that falls like pouring rian Is all lost wihtin the mind As life, unfair, Becomes unkind Beneath the veil lies the room That will be empty someday soon For in the waking of the storm Men must not have time to mourn A voice that whispers softly now Will fall to earth, mortal men to cow And when the storm is finally gone All will fear when demons run
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More Nature poems |
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