A Whisper In The Weeds Poem by nimal dunuhinga
A Whisper In The Weeds
They cut in a hurry for the sport complex
And I hear the silent cry of bleeding weeds.
'Where do we play with little insects
If you extirpate our wild plantation? '
How does that song go.......'they trade paradise and put in a parking lot' - something like that. Same thing with a sport complex. Eventually, nature will be eradicated. I, too, hear the silent cry. Small but powerful piece, Nimal. Linda
Very touching. Man and Nature often lack rapport. Kind regards, Sandra
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/19/2024 12:04:08 AM # 1.0.0.1119
And it is man's 'progress' that will ultimately cause his annihilation. Long may your bleeding weeds play with their little insects. And may your powerful words make a difference on this fragile planet. Love, Allie ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥