Some years ago, before the recent debates relating to environmental issues I wrote a poem that voiced concern , If in a disguised manner, But still it was a poem about the impact of environmental issues.
I reworked this poem in recent days working in to it what I have learned about poetry over the years. I doubt many would take the poem below to be about environmental issues. Which is how I hoped then to have this poem seen. As usual I like my poetry to cause the reader to question what it is truly about etc. Having said that I hope that you enjoy this reworked poem.
Burying heads in sands I’m told, is not how one can be at hand. The capsule stained, be bold, Untrained rivers in an unknown land. Those in the shadows become known, Yet hide their terror, what’s born? From the storm that have shown, To build in lives, revealed by Morn. Washed away where no-one thrives In the winds of life, there’s a sway. The Clouded rivers a kind, that drives, the multicoloured leaves, away. The mid-night Owl hoots, as he flees, An ill timed wreck, he shows his worth. Ivy covered trees, shelter in the breeze, As The Ostrich buries his head in sand. ©Pat Fitzgerald 2021
As usual I hope that this poem has been as enjoyable to read as it has been for me to rework after these years that have passed.
Until next time, Please stay safe .
Garretstown Beach Kinsale County Cork Ireland
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