Poetry competition CLOSED 28th May 2019 8:16pm
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RUNNERS-UP: Hepcat61 and nomoth

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jade tiger
Tyrant of Words
United States
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Joined 9th Nov 2015
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Poetry Contest

Let what your entry says about extinction of life be a rallying cry to what mankind must/ should/ can do, if anything. It’s up to you!

Welcome to
and I’m Jade, your host for this competition.

Please read the following text by poet Amy Miller ( who’s poem immediately follows ), which inspired and explains the premise of this competition.  And then —

submit a piece on your thoughts as to how you think such news should be handled.  Let what your entry says be a rallying cry to what mankind must/ should/ can do, if anything.  It’s up to you!

( Guidelines to follow the text )

Amy Miller:“The United Nations report released a few days ago, predicting that a million plant and animal species will soon face extinction due to human civilization—possibly causing catastrophic harm to our food and water systems—cast a pall over everything this past week. Like many, I’ve had even more thoughts than usual of mass extinctions, famine, and despair, along with a glimmer of hope that a finding this frightening may finally persuade governments to take radical actions to turn the tide. As a writer, I constantly wonder whether writing is worthwhile—I mean, will there be anyone around to read it in a few generations? I keep thinking of the line in William Stafford’s poem ‘Waiting in Line’—‘the chance / to stand on a corner and tell it goodbye!'”

🦎Rules/ Guidelines🦅
🐘 Two Weeks Duration
🦊One Entry Per Pseudonym
🦋 Poetry Only, No Prose
🐋New or Not So New
🦍Title and Link Your Ink
🐠No Collaborations
🐻No Spoken YouTube Entries
🙈No Erotic, Period
🐯PM Me re: Questions
🐸Thank You!

Amy Miller


If it still stands,
find the bench on the bend
of Crystal Springs trail with a view

of the cold lake
and cormorants. We were idiots,
but we liked this. Also cats on our belly

at night. Taqueria
windows white with steam.
A certain shade of lilac that painted

the hills
for a single week in May.
We had a saying about the meek,

but the crops
failed all of us equally,
the Earth so democratic for a moment.

We kept writing—
bless you if you’re reading this—
because to stop would have been death

before death
before death. To know
the mistakes we made, with everything,

made a long
and foolish memoir.
And what was there to do but write it?

We are
so young. Tonight
white blossoms blaze outside the door,

a scent
like spring has lost
its mind and pumped out all

the pheromones
in the arsenal. We are
so in love as well—this place—

three deer walk
down the center of the street,
lit for a moment, then crossing to the dark.

—from Poets Respond
May 14, 2019


- Missy -
Tyrant of Words
United Kingdom
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Joined 26th June 2011
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An Ode To Ecocide

Years ago, I watched
a man pulling a drinking straw
out of the nose of a turtle
then beached whales stone dead,
their guts full of milk bottles
and domed frappe cups.
People laughed
at my bamboo toothbrush
but I used it anyway,
unable to digest the image
of a blood-soaked sea God
writhing in pain.  
Out went my hair care
beauty creams
sanitary products
I switched to soap bars,
made my own moisturiser—
became a mooncup sister.
They laughed even more
when I made wax wraps
from old cotton shirts
to wrap sandwiches in,
my bread covered  
in cartoon rabbits
that knew nothing  
of agony.  
People ask why I bother
trying to polish a turd,
as if the actions  
of one woman can stop
a tidal wave of plastic
choking our marine life.
If you go out into a quiet forest
and press your ear against Oak
you can hear her
b r e a t h i n g
if you have watched the lark
swoop on morning’s wing,
you too will know  
what it truly is to fly
“I’m not dead yet” she grins,
pressing her leaves  
against my cheek.
She’s here.  
That’s why I love her.
Written by Miss_Sub (- Missy -)
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Dangerous Mind
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Joined 2nd Feb 2017
Forum Posts: 346


I need to get up
and let my apparent sins
boil in the morning kettle.
The snake I was afraid of as a child
has now drowned.
At the T-junction I will turn left
and heading in the other direction
let opposites-of-true pass me by
on the other side.

The edaphon are quietly at work …
a glorious display of co-operation.
In a few months
I will put my spade into the compost-heap
gently lift out some humus
and spread it around, cultivating life.
As a closing ceremony I will bless the worms
who will tell the bees I am on their side.
This is a simple revolution - one that can be repeated
ad infinitum.

‘Edaphon’ are the soil-earth equivalent of the sea’s plankton - i.e.: the microbial activists that support all life in the food-chain above them.

David Macleod
Tyrant of Words
United Kingdom
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Forum Posts: 1975

Cockroach Poetry

When the bombs start to drop
I won’t be there to make them stop
I am glad to say, I’ll be happily gone
When mankind sings its final song
When all stand and shake their fists
Their regret, they didn’t slit their wrists
Induced by a simple political corruption
Morphs into mutually assured destruction
Man's inability to admit that he is wrong
Man's arrogance not being allowed for long
It all started right here
With ignorance and fear
With unrivalled hatred
Intelligence now jaded
Egos wildly unchecked
Mans’ existence wrecked
Compromise viewed as cowardice
Sends you all to the abyss
No Satan, no god
Religion a fraud
Mankind slowly melts
Pointless chastity belts
Spared by the blast
The diseased dies fast
Humanity without distinction
Ear-marked for extinction
Despite any and all pacts
Fake news, alternative facts
No slogans no sound bites
No marches, no cock fights
No more moronic riots
Finally the earth quiets
Then all is still
No human left to kill
I hope cockroaches
Write better poetry

Written by David_Macleod (David Macleod)
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Strange Creature
United States
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Joined 15th May 2019
Forum Posts: 1

I Did Not Complain

I did not complain when you plundered my skin,
Erasing the blush from my burning cheeks.
I did not complain when you punctured my veins,
Nourishing yourself from the wells of my soul.
I did not complain when you gorged upon my flesh,
Peeling back the layers to satisfy your hunger.
I did not complain when you impregnated me with your poisons,
Robbing the fertility from the depths of my womb.
I did not complain when you choked my lungs with your addiction,
Fueling your conquest of my blood and bone.
I did not complain when you carved your legacy from my bosom,
Disfiguring my beauty to entertain your acquisitiveness.
I merely lie before you, drawing my failing breaths as you say,
I love you darling, but I need you to give me more.
Written by Blaidd
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Tyrant of Words
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Joined 20th Apr 2016
Forum Posts: 2293

Dolphins whispher

Thus dies, sheltering animus
of the underworld
When plastic will biodegrade
Too late (too late)
Written by AEMelia564 (Y)
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Twisted Dreamer
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Joined 24th Mar 2019
Forum Posts: 64

birth to islands - snowglobes

Your eyes are in an ice storm,
  baby red-raw  
   see underneath your glassy  
shield a coral  
and curious fish  
sniffing tips  
of fingers probing  
   then turn to leap, plastic sick  
with wings that make you yelp  
from out your bowl.  
You are dancing in a hurricane,  
   wild ballerina  
   see you lose yourself  
in chaotic patterns  
yearning to perfect  
  and home in to the source    
of the display of bees drunk  
on the beats of their own wings.  
Your soles sticky on lemonade gravel  
   mountain climber      
   see your swagger residue  
of composing a dream  
and watch it manifest  
in battle upon the litter  
         of psychotic men  
where we dare teach you our limits.
Written by nomoth
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geoff cat
Dangerous Mind
United States
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Joined 27th Nov 2015
Forum Posts: 990

In Death, Are All Our Worldly Cares Forgot! - Sonnet Sixteen

In death, are all our worldly cares forgot!
Do all the natures of our ills find rest!
Does every angered thought and act unknot,
To leave our souls in love and peace impressed?
In billion years’ progress, at last, we stand,
From God’s first thought to here, where we have found,
Our brink, our deaths, in our made foreign land,
And does the Earth not laugh at our renowned!
How deep our arrogance consumes our soul,
One million species lost and think that we
Will sure survive the cost of our control,
Our suicide will set the poor Earth free.
In death, will Nature put our ills to rest,
To leave its soul with love and peace impressed.
Written by Hepcat61 (geoff cat)
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jade tiger
Tyrant of Words
United States
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Joined 9th Nov 2015
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.      .

jade tiger
Tyrant of Words
United States
153awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 9th Nov 2015
Forum Posts: 4616


(a nursery tale)
Near a sleek interstate of the new Now
Of Today’s city glass towers’ gleam,  
From the day’s perfect rise of Know How,  
And Tomorrow of manicured dreams:  
Stood the sprawl of an old shanty town  
Where lush trees & green grass never grew;  
Shown no mercy; a dry trodden frown  
Like the tough shanty dwellers it drew.  
But for all of a dirty-faced soul  
Passing time in the cardboard & shake,  
Moved an odd, mystic child of the shoal  
Picking mussels & shells for the take.  
And the name, Periwinkle, or Jill,  
Who's dark days of childhood were all spent  
On the fringe of the city’s landfill,  
Gather’d pebbles & weeds as she went.  
No one paid her a mind to collect,  
Not a button or bow worth a cent.  
And there never were colorful blooms;  
Not a daisy, nor rose or a glad.  
With bare feet in the mud many moons,  
Not a violet or mum to be had.  
But no one who knew Jill believed her.  
She saw rain puddles each as a pearl  
In re-flected sky drifting over,  
And the specialness that filled the girl  
Who could trust in the dump where she play’d,  
That to walk in the sky’s dappled air  
Brought to life buddings from seedlings raised  
When she wore the bright blue in her hair.  
And her mother would smile & then teased  
How her “Jilly” did just as she pleased.  
Copyright©️2018 Jade Pandora. All Rights Reserved.
Written by Jade-Pandora (jade tiger)
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Guardian of Shadows
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Joined 25th Aug 2011
Forum Posts: 13712

To live and die, Nature's cycle

the lights of life
like starlights on clear nights
full blossoms like yellow daisies
on fields of green

nature causes changes
wet kisses of rain on leaves
sunshine lend warmth
colour them yellow

wind blows hard
causing pops in fluffy seeds
flying them away
to grow and procreate on new fields

lights of a life
nature lends her love
to live and to die
within the arms of Gaia.
Written by Grace (Idryad)
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jade tiger
Tyrant of Words
United States
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Joined 9th Nov 2015
Forum Posts: 4616


1. Amur Leopard
Since 1996, the amur leopard has been classified by the IUCN as Critically Endangered with less than 70 individuals thought to exist today. It is hunted and killed for its beautiful fur, its habitat is being destroyed for human settlement and agricultural practices.

Thought Provoker
United States
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Joined 17th Apr 2019
Forum Posts: 210

The End of the World, Really?

Everyone imagines the end of the world
as widespread death and destruction.
This may happen at the start, however,
I imagine the conclusion far differently.
I believe the world we live in is already dead
We exist by harvesting its’ dwindling remains
Not enough food, water, resources, space
rare species vanish as soon as discovered.
I also believe that death and rebirth  
will happen from one breath to the next.
The earth was not created young
It is created anew every second
for each and every living being
It is not difficult for for me to see  
that it’ll happen once more, for all
What once died will live once more
Life will permanently triumph over death  
remedies known for every ill and pain
Those persecuted will know peace
All that hunger will be forever satisfied.
Externally, the world will look the same
Life as we know it will proceed as is.
just with one indelible, irrevocable change
Universal, enduring peace and understanding
All questions answered, prejudices gone
no more fear of death, loss, hurt or lack.  
At the world’s end - let me correct that
the end of this world, as we know now
will be the introduction of the world eternal.  
If only it would happen in our lifetime!
Written by inechoingsilence
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Dangerous Mind
United States
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Joined 11th July 2012
Forum Posts: 843

To Mother (A Prayer after the Cataclysms)

Tales from the Old Man – The Defiant Heart

We sat around the camp fire under the stars
as we felt the cool mountain breeze in our faces
Then the old man stood and walked in circles around the fire.
 His tattered robes swayed in the light wind.
With his gaze on the flames he lifted his cup and began:

In those ancient times
They raped, pillaged and exploited her
They plundered everything she had given them
Through the centuries they treated her without care
And though she always gave her love in return
The eons of abuse took a toll on her
Until finally one day she lashed back
And it was only fair.

Guilty and innocent perished together,
Too many to count
It mattered not what generation stood at fault
When she unleashed all her fury
When the earth shook and the oceans rose,
When mountains crumbled and skies darkened
When deserts and valleys burned and froze
They all fell,
Cities, states, nations and empires
She cleansed through water and fire
But her justice had been done
She washed away the transgressions of men

And then she forgave us
When new generations were born
Who knew not the sins of the past
Her children would be one with her

This fire and this water
Is a reminder of a balance we must maintain
The symbiosis between us and her

To Mother

To Mother, we all exclaimed, our cups raised
And drank the wine from the very earth we inherited.
Written by wallyroo92
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Thought Provoker
United States
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Joined 1st Nov 2017
Forum Posts: 145

Sloop Clearwater (what one person started)

( Pete Seeger )

On the Hudson River, New York
the graceful silhouette
of a familiar sloop
passes onlookers who recall
a time when the river was filled

with waste and toxic runoff,
when nothing
and no one was safe
in or near its sluggish water
filled with
trash and human feces.

Pete Seeger, folk singer,
who watched the Hudson
peacefully flow by
for hours
atop his Beacon home
he and his wife Toshi built.

Kneeling on the shore,
one day, Pete put his hand
in the pulse
of the river current
and knew their friend
was very ill, unable to speak.

He could not tolerate
what had been
happening years, any longer,
and that he would dedicate
himself to saving the river.

Fifty years later from when the
craft first sailed the Hudson,
the sleek wood sloop drifts

The crew is made up of students,
learning about conservation,
that hoist her mainsail on this
gray, rainy, spring morning.

The gulls are flying inland,
the tide seems uncertain
as the day becomes
an afterthought
as to what may follow, with
the unstable air in its vacuum,
his voice is risen...

*Where have all the flowers gone
gone to graveyards every one
when will they ever learn
a time to be born
a time to die
a time to heal
I swear it’s not too late

*Lyrics from “Where Have All The Flowers Gone”, and “Turn! Turn! Turn!”
Written by Heaven_sent_Kathy
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Pete Seeger, the folk music icon who passed away in 2014 at age 94, conceived of the Clearwater in the early 1960’s with a simple goal. “We’re going to build a boat to save the river,” he said. With Seeger’s inspiration, and the commitment of multiple generations of leaders, crew and volunteers, the sloop has achieved much more.

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