Here they come
the frequent trespassers of this terrain
in their tattered truck
The heavy black boots
step down
Their helmets on
and safety glasses
their ear muffs
thick face shields
and Kevlar chaps
they march forward
with calculated steps
There she stood –
a lone giant Lizzab tree
an old green fortress –
as the gang approached
They sized her up
they measured and marked
and then the
saw
so big so sharp
whirring
whining
grinding
until the mountains quivered with dread at
the cracking
the crashing
the crunchy bone breaking
Man against nature and killing something that can be converted into money. Thankyou
Just I want to add a couple of words by Zulfa, my wife sitting beside me: Man against himself, she suggests.
Yes Paul, man against nature, regrettably when man has no reason to be in that position.
Wisely and nicely depicted with marvellous collocation. An intensive poem I like most. Thanks for sharing. - - -10
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
It looks like an eye witness account of a cold blooded murder. Yes, the murder of a tree. Thanks for such a phenomenal poem.
Such a warmly-written comment, apparently by a person who passionately supports the preservation of our planet ransacked by the enemies of nature.. and humanity too.