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 is filming the birds,
who pro’bly are all gonna croak.
But I’m never allowed to use plastic,
now I’m forced to watch doom and gloom,
I suspect this is simply one of your schemes
to get me to clean up my room.
Composting, Composting
(decay to mulch)
Ashes and grasses and
feathers and hay,
garbage but only from
Vegan’s they say,
Leaves and some newspapers
(paper not “E-”),
Sawdust and pine needles
Weeds from the sea.
Biodegradable
it all should be.
Carbon-to-nitrogen
ratio: three.
Decomposition with
bacteria:
Psychrophiles, Mesophiles,
did we say, “duh!”
Thermophiles,
fungi, actinomycetes,
enzymes and earthworms
in subcommittees.
Rotting and roasting and
decomposition;
barrels and bins
or a pile in position.
Chicken mesh wire or
plastic style tumbler;
box made of cement or
something quite humbler.
Aerate and water and
turning quite often,
grinding and chipping and
shredding to soften.
Measure the pH and
spread on some lime,
use a thermometer
give it some time.
Fold in your garden in
fall or in spring,
when it is black and is
finished aging.
Use it for mulch or
use it for tea.
Organic nutrition
and practically free.
Bob McGinness is a freelance writer who has written for numerous publications, none of which have published his work. He has painted houses, washed dishes in a TB hospital, and lived in a gated community in Florida. After a career as a migrant white collar worker harvesting profit from data in the health care industry he currently strives to expand his knowledge about nature, human behavior, and music. He also likes maps. He lives in Columbia, South Carolina.
I enjoy your robust humour, your extraordinary diction, “Psychrophiles, Mesophiles,” etc., your dactylic metrical patterns, e.g., “Carbon-to-nitrogen/ ratio: three,” etc., your unique rhymes, like the particularly acute, “actinomycetes…subcommittees,” and your overall copacetic artistry, a cut above the typical mulch.
Thanks. I try to write gardening poems and every time I use a species or genus name my brain yells, “Stop. Don’t do it.”
Bob didn’t mention his seafaring days. I’m still waiting for some sea shanties. What could be more classical.
Aargh! Ok here:
http://www.boomercafe.com/2014/11/24/creative-baby-boomer-writes-greatest-pirate/
Love them both.