The Environment

by Charles Eager William Wordsworth was born in Cockermouth, Cumberland, in 1770—the same year as gave us Beethoven, Hegel, and Hölderlin—and died at the age of eighty, rich in the knowledge of his huge accomplishments, in Rydal Mount, Westmorland, in 1850. In those eighty years, Wordsworth brought a unique poetry...

A Question of Faith The crowd cheered on their betters’ masquerade, Emotions seethed as memes were hatched and grew; Elijah watched as Ba’al’s prophets prayed. Reporters for the 70’s news were paid To write an ice age might be overdue; The crowd cheered on their betters’ masquerade. The press says...

(All poetry by Bruce Dale Wise) Crossing the Swamp by Jon MacNaughton by Caud Sewer Bile "If freedom of speech is taken away...we may be led, like sheep to...slaughter." —George Washington The boat of freedom of MacNaughton follows Leutze's pic of Washington upon the Delaware, grave, foggy, thick. Don Trump...

The pika climbs the snowless slopes in hope of finding cooler climes. A tailless kin to hares, he shelters under stones to cope with rising temps within his furry skin. The ball of fur appears to roll than hop. From rock to rock, he gathers summer sedge and dries his...

 (All poetry by Bruce Dale Wise) Am-air-ica by Eber L. Aucsidew Die Welt proclaimed the biggest drop in CO2 was in America, in the first year of Donald Trump—no spin. Though worldwide emissions grew by 1.4 percent, they fell in UK, Mexico, Japan, and the US. The IEA released its...

  You Decide Some know me as Destiny, The weaver of the cloth of Time. Although my looms are never stilled, They say I choose how high you’ll climb, How fast you’ll fall, how great your name; I am the ruler of the game. Others think of me as Fate....

12/03/17 Of all ye gods, that crown Olympus high, Who yet remains that man’s not brought to heel? When aircraft daily pierce great Zeus’s sky, And Neptune’s depths have long since been revealed. Alas, the greenhouse did Demeter in, And eBay showed poor Hermes to the door; Now Hestia runs...

  Budding darkness, in your starkness, void of noise and light, deliver me from what I see ’fore day turns into night. Guide me through the peaceful sea of dreamers far and wide, as welcome shores reopen doors to once-untarnished side. I yearn for trees and tranquil breeze; rich emerald...

  Nature’s pillars, which have borne Earth’s breath for ages, Are now crumbling into dust... Still, more keep falling, Shattered by our storm of wants, as outer changes Echo those inside us, stirred by ‘progress’ calling. Man-made streams of poison look like serpents crawling Towards the oceans’ hidden realms of...

  The Buds of Life On Nightly News I saw a sight obscene: A seahorse in embrace with cotton bud, Soon causing me to ask, ‘What does this mean?’ The answer came most clear, with numbing thud - Our oceans have become a rubbish tip For detritus abandoned in the...

The silver masses rising in huge numbers, The ship alone upon the sprawling sea, The snores of men found tossing in their slumbers, And salt-tinged breezes shivering with me, The solitary voice of man to man, Confiding of their former selves, their wives, The things they learned, the businesses they...

  Progress We fill our landfills That we build sky high With electronic gadgets That we must all buy ... All in the name of Progress We cut down the forest And industrialize the farm We poison our food And do the land harm ... All in the name of...

This poem is written in response to proposals to sell ancient public forests to private developers in England. https://saveourwoods.co.uk/   Oh, site where forest now is laid – Why take the suite of forest dreams? And live on angry air and claim. Oh, site where forest now is laid –...

Dying Muse Not everyone will survive The muse has sung her last song The end is about to arrive It has been following us all along The forest is groaning in pain She sheltered her creatures with love Her labors were all given in vain Of her plight she knew...

Sleep, lying in dry river beds Sold rapidly, buy the shore banks Brains washed from corporate heads Dried and neatly styled on fuel tanks Rippled, ragged breaths of ashen air Smog saturated sludge and stench Precipitations drought and bare Floating plastic water bottles’ island’s quench External thermostat control is diplomatic Hemisphere and...

The Rocky Mountain Pines Written in Rhymed couplets of Anapestic Tetrameter. In the mountains or plains, with the pine in the air, I’ll awake to the sun with a chill to compare. When I hike up a hill, with a heart full of gloom, And the trail is lined by...

Dancer the arch of her collarbone a bridge, her legs a throne, the clean and simple lines of her body free of confines. she dances, arms akimbo, hair flowing, and I know that she belongs to the wind, to breathe the free air, skin pale and wide like the sky,...

  The World Is Still Too Much Too much, and much too much, it still goes on: The men and women who covet wealth and bling, And acquisition of each material thing, Yet search for some elusive paradigm Of Self as one with Nature. Rising seas And tempest winds instill...

Riven (A Rannaigheacht Ghairid) Once I dreamed Ospreys soared where salmon teemed. Frigid streams and waterfalls Frosted walls where glaciers gleamed. Darkness cowled The moon whenever wolves howled Until hunters fired a torch That scorched the realms where night prowled. Sunlight slew Calves* of glaciers tinted blue, Snowy owls, and...

There used to be a limpid lake Home to the finest birds you'd find. We'd watch their glory till daybreak. But now those days are far behind. I used to hear the bullfrogs croak Before the pond was quarantined. We left the woods in haze and smoke And all the...

  How Eden weeps to see, the ache of every tortured tree. How Eden doth recoil, at bitter cancer of the soil. Man was placed as king of beasts, his palace carved of nature's stone, and every corner of his house, he builds a city, builds a throne. And every...

Trees, Libraries, and Chinese Communism To wrap a ribbon round a UK tree And tie it into Chinese tyranny, Or flag up five star Chinese hostelry Above a Yorks* Art Deco library, May tighten minds to ask: “How can that be?”— The links are not far fetched. Please bear with...

  Departure Like escaping through a siege, growing older       Hampers itself with hopes of return; So if, over your bare shoulder, Upwind palaces start to smolder,       Let them burn. Woken by ax-hack and sword-clang, at once you knew       Better than to arm for the defense Of gates your foes stream...

  The Desert We were flying in a desert, an oasis to drink dry. We gorged ourselves on date palms and spat in nature’s eye. We’ve been lying in a desert where the wine of life’s run dry, for the plane’s no more returning, all the fuel’s been blown sky-high....

  Witches’ Brew Round and round the seven seas go, In the putrid poisons throw, Double, double toil and trouble, dolphins die and oceans bubble. Extract of mercury, pcb’s, poison waters by degrees. Tampon inserts, medical waste, to melt a turtle’s carapace. Make the potion more desirous, add bacteria, morbillivirus....

Unforeseen Good Fortune’s Heirs Are We There’s little of the Plague that we can find to celebrate except for this small gem – when those who died left property behind it often changed their family’s lives for them. Their station rose, by education freed from toiling years in poverty and...

  Pacific Trash Vortex I don’t care about chemical sludges, I don’t care about plastic debris, the Pacific trash vortex is so far away, that it just doesn’t matter to me. So, the plastic is piled on the beaches, and the turtles are starting to choke, and the weather channel...

  A Bear in My Living Room While playing some computer games One day, I heard a noise out in The living room. I frowned, but paused And went to see. To my chagrin A bear was squatting on the floor And doing what he had to do. And I...

  The Price (a pantoum in iambic pentameter) The sea and sky, once beautiful and clean, They’ve paid the price for man’s hubris and greed. The jungle canopies were brilliant green as nature shared her bounty, fruit and seed; They’ve paid the price for man’s hubris and greed. Depleting resources...

2016 Primaries This season, Mr. Trump’s a raging wildfire, a storm ignited by reality TV, fodder for anyone who likes good satire. He’s poised to win as far as I can see. The exit polls are making me perspire. Who gives a damn about democracy? A welcome distraction from death...

Below is an excerpt of the last ten stanzas of Lord Byron's ‘Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage,’ published originally in the 1810s. It may be read as an ode to the ocean, or perhaps an environmental poem.   CLXXVII. Oh! that the Desert were my dwelling-place, With one fair Spirit for my...