Written for: Sunday Whirl, Wordle #408
Words: cut, stars, water, dogwood, quiver, granite, earth, pill, rough, bell, dearth, garland
This poem is a bell
that no longer rings.
Dogwoods shiver-quiver
as they are roughly
ripped from the earth
where a dearth already
exists of our tall friends.
This poem is a bell,
water-logged, burnt,
watching a pillar
of granite grow
and blot out stars.
This poem will not ring
until the next Spring garlands
earth with new saplings.
Yes it grieves me too to see our careless destruction of so much of the wild orld tht keeps us alive. Forests, seas, icecaps and a balance in the animal species now becoming unstable all because of our greed and carelessness. It is a pity that poets seem to feel this so much as it hurts to write the truth.
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I don’t know why poets are the only ones who seem to feel this so deeply, but it does hurt to write about it.
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Great post 🙂
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Thanks so much, #1!
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Another example of using the imposed words to convey a profound truth. New saplings indeed.
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Thanks, Col!
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