My Futile Attempt To Find Nature
My futile attempt to find nature
I start with parks,
Unassuming grassy expanses
Rimmed with palms, perhaps
With a pond or playground
I graduate to preserves
Larger ponds, sometimes with
Geese, always with ducks
I walk along its paved paths
Or rocky byways, but I
Run into the road
The sounds of cars inescapable
Beyond the quacks and honks
And rustling of untrimmed mesquites
I try a "hike", more of a
Stroll through the stones of a
Great, holey hill
I lose track of my impromptu
Guides, so I take the easy route
It leads to he canal, another
Reminder of man's hubris in the
Desert biome I now call home
I was born to a land of true wilds,
Of old growth forests protected by
Fences, yes, but standing proud, uncut
I was born to hills, and creeks, and
Bushes bursting with black berries,
Counting the stars on a clear night,
Camping in the back yard,
Craning our necks to watch deer
And woodpeckers working
To hear bats screech under the new moon
I sit on a plastic bench, molded like wood
I watch men fish at stocked ponds,
I hope the sounds of motorcycles
Doesn't scare their catch,
But these creatures are likely as
Trained to the sounds as the grackles
Are to rooting through trash
I pray that the little natures around me
Remain un-golfed, and undeveloped
That the canal can yet give rest to cormorants,
That the bougainvilleas can shelter the sparrows,
That what little respect my new home has
For its many gifts can yet be preserved,
For the sake of the hikers, the birds,
The saguaros, even the God-given rocks
I pray for all of these things with my one
Little soul, with all the nature within,
Though futile my tiny words may be
To the unrelenting force of mankind's
Unending greed and craving for more,
More, more
More Posts from J-i-poetry and Others
I'm Not a Rambler
Mostly rice with a bit of chicken
It was only a few weeks,
Shopping at the local
Asian foods store.
Getting used to having
No car to shop with,
Packing a week's worth
Of groceries into a single
Backpack.
We ate mostly rice and
Vegetables with a bit of
Diced chicken for a bit of
Protein, once a week.
Bone-hungry and sick,
Despair set in.
"I want my mom" I said.
I didn't want her often,
Or even at all since leaving.
But after a few weeks of
Rice with nothing,
Anything seemed better
Than waiting for the anemia
To set in.
P.S.
(I didn't call my mom. We relented and subscribed to Walmart's delivery service and now we're doing okay)
magnet poetry always does good in curing writers block.
A List of "Beautiful" Words: Yellow
for your next poem/story
Aureate - of a golden color
Auric - of, relating to, or derived from gold
Aurify - to turn into gold
Bilious - a yellow or greenish fluid that is secreted by the liver
Citreous - of the color citron yellow
Flavescent - turning yellow; yellowish
Flaxen - resembling flax especially in pale soft strawy color
Fulvous - of a dull brownish yellow; tawny
Gild - to overlay with or as if with a thin covering of gold
Gilt - of the color of gold
Gold - a variable color averaging deep yellow
Icterus - yellowish pigmentation of the skin, tissues, and body fluids caused by the deposition of bile pigments; jaundice
Lutescent - yellowish
Luteous - yellow tinged with green or brown
Luteolous - slightly yellow; yellowish
Mustard - a dark to moderate yellow
Ochroid - resembling yellow ocher in color
Old gold - a dark yellow
Primrose yellow - a light to moderate yellow
Sallow - of a grayish greenish yellow color
Sandy - of a yellowish-gray color
Straw - of the color of straw: pale yellow in color
Topaz - a yellow sapphire or quartz
Xanthism - coloring (as of the skin or pelt) marked by a predominance of yellow pigments
Xanthochroism - abnormal coloration of feathers (as in some parrots) in which yellow replaces the normal color
More: Lists of Beautiful Words ⚜ Word Lists ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs
Isaac’s climb, abraham’s sacrifice, sarah’s son
Prayer
I wish I could pray every day,
Over dinner or at bedtime
Or anytime during the day perhaps.
I would say I have nothing to
Pray about, but that would be a lie.
I have plenty to pray for, both for
Myself and for others.
All I would need to do is
Clasp my hands, bow my head,
Talk to God.
Then my hands become repelling
Magnets, my head, full of helium.
My prayers stay stuck in my throat,
Choking my soul.
On occasion, I vomit up these
Words caught up inside,
Spewing out of my eyes and mouth,
Screaming a silent scream as
The rain streams down my face.
It's either this, or the prayers
Frozen in place would chill my heart,
Turn me to stone, kill my spirit.
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