Note: If you registered before 16 October 2017 and have not yet done so please reset your password. Reset
We have switched over to a new website platform which will allow us to vastly improve the service offered by The Talent Bank.
The hands of men
Are full of craft but harmful to Mother Nature
I watched as tall, spackling features came to life
Just like us their roots where in the heart of Mother Nature
Their language was foreign from ours
They did not respect solace and serine
They conversed so loud,
Despite the fact that they were side by side
They were friends with the enemies
Yellow flower and her chocking colleague
The skies changed to a dull red-blackish
As if the rains were to emit
Their fruits run the grounds with wheels
They destroy everything they come across
They drop black watery pigment that chocks
It kills the little ones yet to spring from the soils
All my friends and colleagues chock,
From the new air we breathe
Our fruits are full of disability
The rains are sour on us
At times the sky does not even wet the ground
At times it is so harsh on us
It gives us more than we ask for
This is what they term modernization
It is what they call industrialization
They even have a new term innovation
Tall buildings, cars, huge machines.
Mother Nature is so angry at them
At times she cries so loud
Her sobbing heaves, open gaps in the ground
Her tears flood the earth uprooting the structures
At times it’s so bad she even nose bleeds
Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *
Save my name, email, and website in this browser for the next time I comment.
How we observe and how we reflect.
The observations and reflections of a traveller in a foreign land.
The facades of a perfect home.
This peom is about a woman in my life, who is suppose to be there for me but is not.
Dreams, desires, id and ego.