A little oily tune
Here comes the oil, fresh from the ocean floor
Here comes the oil, with birds that no more may soar
Here comes the oil, topping the ocean wave
Here comes the oil and some animals to save.
Those we save from the wave, they are the lucky few
For every one we rescue, a million, maybe two
Seeking one, just one last breath will suffocate and die
Or lacking that, will find themselves chemically fried.
Within its grasp are the smallest and the dearest of the sea
Plankton and fry are the lives that we may never see
Coating plant life in a marsh like an oily sarcophagus
There they will stay, day by day, as a finely dispersed puss.
What was good for our engines is disaster for the sea
What was good for our power plants is death today for me
If you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen they say
But how do we get out when power is our way.
Here comes the oil, fresh from the ocean floor
Here comes the oil, with birds that no more may soar
Here comes the oil, topping the ocean wave
Here comes the oil and some animals to save.
2 comments:
Those of you who are old enough to remember the great oil spill we had a number of years ago, a spill that blanketed beaches all up and down the Gulf of Mexico shores from Texas to Florida, this is a poem that was inspired by that spill. I lived in Southern Mississippi at the time, and watched and saw all that happened. This poem is my thinking on what happened. Thanks for your interest, and thanks for taking the time for Morningbrain.
And, one thing I'd like to point out here--this is what I call "poetry." Whether bad or good, it does have two main items many "poets" today just do not understand. It has rhyme and meter. Our modern "poets" do what--write up a little essay and then break it up into little pieces, publish it, and call it poetry? Didn't work for Shakespeare, did it? Doesn't work for many of we older writers, either.
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