- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Storm
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Click hereTwo gens back,
Her flicker and boom
sent a message.
Our forebears heeded, mindful,
yet now we've gone arrogant,
grumbling over traffic,
late to work,
then cozy inside, call ourselves
lucky.
We chat over bits of plastic and metal raped raw from Her flesh,
ignorant, distant from Her, and
lucky.
Two gens on,
our children will curse the luck,
spit on our graves,
and know Her again.
- COMMENTS
twelveoonealmost 13 years agoI came back and voted, (5) I do think just one or two more clues would have done it. "Gens" lead me to believe this had something to do with computers, they are getting more eco-friendly. Don't overdo making everything clear, though.
GuiltyPleasurealmost 13 years ago....... reply to 1201 helped me to appreciate your poem more but there are still two "f"s in traffic (Spellcheck is our friend), also why abbreviate "generations"?
You've got my attention so I'll look at more of your work.
Tess
l8bloomalmost 13 years agoAuthor"Chat" refers to computing; computers are made of bits of plastic and metal; humans typically mine the earth for raw materials without heed to accompanying damage to the surrounding habitat.
"Her" is Gaia.
Sorry this wasn't clear. I'll keep trying!
~L8.
twelveoonealmost 13 years agoQ.
"bits of plastic and metal raped raw from Her flesh,"
what does this refer to, and why is "Her" capped.
I did not vote.
