Why I Wrote This Poetry Series
For this poetry series, I wanted to mainly focus on 3 perspectives of what is going to happen if we continue down an unsustainable route. I also wanted to touch on some imagery and thoughts that I think work cohesively together in order to shed light on how a lack of sustainability can affect various elements of our lives. Ultimately, displaying how sustainable development is necessary for our environment and our future lives/future generations.
 Industrial
A moment passesÂ
Time grips on her neck,
Forcing her steadyÂ
within the green fog andÂ
The smell of burning rubber.Â
Choking on the lack of flora and clean water.
There is no more room for buildings as high as stars,
Oil rigs and
pumping gas into cars.Â
Seconds and chances always givenÂ
to the corporations of
burning forestsÂ
and soiling oceans.Â
The passing of time ticks by,
suffocating her through polluted air
on a mission to create a doomed new childhood
For flowerless childrenÂ
Who will bloomÂ
Into the smog and sight of our industrial world.
Â
Naturalism:Â
 In a healthy climateÂ
trees change fromÂ
green to yellow
 There is a tranquilizing breeze
brushing over her shouldersÂ
and through her hairÂ
She can breatheÂ
No despair.
There is love within her forÂ
naturalistic beauty,Â
life left untouched by man
empty fields and tall grass,
clear blue water,
and land without ash.
The sky is left brighter,Â
a sparkling azure.Â
The alluring backdrop for deep forests of green
a metamorphosis of toned colourÂ
cool to warmÂ
sage to amber
Illuminating the inherent natural beautyÂ
of a picturesque life.
Â
Familial:
Mother earth sacrifices herselfÂ
Like a woman bearing herÂ
First child.
She changes seasons from winterÂ
To springÂ
For daisies to bloomÂ
And mothers to singÂ
lullabiesÂ
to the unborn generationÂ
of our overdue cleanup andÂ
neglected promises.
Smog-filled lungs
And unbearable temperaturesÂ
come from The Mother’sÂ
Sickness
An illness to
accompany the treetopsÂ
That are no longer luscious,
No longer rustleÂ
The thought of eventual colorless fieldsÂ
A seemingly permanent deathÂ
No hope for the rebirthÂ
come springÂ
Without vibrant natureÂ
We know its gone too farÂ
For there are now mothers thatÂ
Cannot bear the painÂ
of birthing flowerless flower childrenÂ
and holding onto seasons that no longer change.