Lament for a Grasshopper

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber

I have nothing against progress. Civilization would not have come far without it. At the same time, nature deserves better than to have us measure progress in terms other than material gain or cosmetic ‘improvement’. Nature protects us as well as giving us pleasure and breathing space to consider out options…

Nature is an inspiration, not just for artists and poets but for every man, woman and child in the street who seeks sanctuary sometimes, precious moments of peace and quiet away  from the frantic hustle and bustle of everyday life (and worse) in the modern world.

Yes, nature can be cruel, but perhaps humankind should look to its own archives before we enter into that argument.

Nature is a treasure beyond words, much of which we are in danger of losing forever; the more we lose, the less likely future generations will ever forgive us.

This poem is a villanelle, given a degree of poetic licence.

LAMENT FOR A GRASSHOPPER

Once I heard a grasshopper sing,

heard the dawn chorus…

where now, trucks thundering

I have heard bluebells ring

sweet sounds of silence;

once, I heard a grasshopper sing

I saw a stream, twisting, turning,

haunted by otters …

where now, trucks thundering

I have watched birds mating

in leafy trees;

once, I heard a grasshopper sing

There used to be a graceful flying

of kingfishers …

where now, trucks thundering

No denying nature's every warning

through the centuries ...

Once, I heard a grasshopper sing

where now, trucks thundering

[Note: An errors occurs in the version that appears in A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005]

The (Human) Jungle OR The Secret Life of a Nine-to-Fiver

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber

This poem appeared on the blog in 2010 as 'Where The River Bends'. Readers ‘Petra’ and ‘Karl’ have approved the new title and suggested I repeat it to help make returning to work in rain, snow or whatever after the Christmas and New Year breaks just that little bit more bearable. True, and it used to work for me every time before I retired in 2008, and still does, especially when I'm having a bad day with various health issues ...

Oh, but isn't imagination a wonderful thing?!

THE (HUMAN) JUNGLE or THE SECRET LIFE OF A NINE-TO-FIVER

Tracking a path through a forest of pine,

nature music all around, leading me where

feisty river’s twisting here, turning there,

and I pausing at each bend to cock an ear

for a lyric like no other, hidden away

in a mystic mist hugging me as if to keep

me safe from surly giants on the prowl

though (for sure) they mean me no harm

Silver, the river, blending with mist and sun,

covering me so that I am like royalty dressed

for a state occasion, needing only a crown

to let me call this fairy tale kingdom my own

and if a part of me knows (for sure) I dream

I cannot resist but must follow, follow, for all

its twists, turns, glorious music and a lyric

I can barely make out, straining to interpret

Birds and beasts of the forest shadowing me

as if at Earth Mother’s command, she concerned

for me as I track the eternal river through

a forest of pine, alone, ill-prepared for its twists

and turns and a mist cloaking me in silver,

making me into something, someone, I am not

yet I love how it shines me against the dark

enough (for sure) to scare off any malign spirits

Oh, to walk free and safe among Nature’s own,

let my senses run wild yet still retain a keen sense

of proportion, equilibrium, a feeling for fair play

that lets the river run, the trees grow, the birds sing

and beasts live, learn, and teach before dying

about the meaning of it all; no exceptions, even

for the likes of you and I. Stop! Look and see

the concrete jungle we’ve chosen for our reality

No fairy tale ending. Magical forest and silver river

insisting I cross the damn road, get to work on time

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010; 2015