The autobiography of a dumping site
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Once upon a time
I was a Flushing Meadow.
Within my endless bounds
Birds and winds rested on their flight.
But in the passage of time
Man's ivory towers swallowed my grounds
Leaving me to ravaging seasons.
And in the turn of events
I was a town's dumping site.
Whatever man threw into the streets
Finally reached my funeral pyre.
My charming meads were heaps of waste
Dogs and jackals hunted my grounds.
And in the eternal fire and smoke
I lost my meads- where are now those springs?
Instead of a flower-strewn hill
To passersby Iam an unbearable sight.
Around me is hot wind, above me hot sun
And where are those whispering brooks?
Preempted into half cooked flesh?
Yes indeed a sad but true poem about the state of our once blooming gardens...great write Ravi 10
a hard hitting write...environmental hazards...mutating our gardens into graveyards.
hi ravi its a beautiful write deeply troubling...the garbage an fill issues are pilling up for the comming gemnertions great poem its a tenner cheers
well expressed indeed...'The Autobiography of a dumping site'..it aroused my curiosity..thanks.nicely woven in to a poem
we have seen people sympathising with animals and plants. but only a gret heart can write this 10 out of 10
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
very well written..true.. a lot of gardens would become graves