Poetry, Writing




The universe quickly swells
The clock in haste ticks by
And curious new little birds
Fly into the sky

Change is definitely constant
Growth is constant too
As the raw fruits mature
The human brain has grown too

And now there is enough space
To incorporate things of value
Not love and peace and compassion
But valid things (just few)

Like hatred and anger
And violence and blood feud
And acts of envy
And moral turpitude

As humans fill the planet
Is there no place secure?
From the mighty disasters
That make the planet impure

Change is certainly accepted but
Every place the humans touch
Has turned into bitter dust
How could we have changed so much?

Today on account of world Poetry Day I would like to share a few words on humanity especially in this time of crisis the world is going through…

(image courtesy google)

11 thoughts on “Change”

  1. Great poem…. And so true as well. But I beg to differ on one point. Modern humans i.e. Homo Sapiens were like this from the starting. We wiped out other human species as well organisms on the lands we touched. You should read Sapiens by Yuval Noah Harari to read more on this topic. Again loved the poem. Keep it up!


  2. Ah well, indeed we have been our own greatest ruin.
    I will leave another poem by another poet here, one whose birthday was only yesterday…

    Lines Written in Early Spring

    by William Wordsworth

    I heard a thousand blended notes,
    While in a grove I sate reclined,
    In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts
    Bring sad thoughts to the mind.

    To her fair works did Nature link
    The human soul that through me ran;
    And much it grieved my heart to think
    What man has made of man.

    Through primrose tufts, in that green bower,
    The periwinkle trailed its wreaths;
    And ’tis my faith that every flower
    Enjoys the air it breathes.

    The birds around me hopped and played,
    Their thoughts I cannot measure:β€”
    But the least motion which they made
    It seemed a thrill of pleasure.

    The budding twigs spread out their fan,
    To catch the breezy air;
    And I must think, do all I can,
    That there was pleasure there.

    If this belief from heaven be sent,
    If such be Nature’s holy plan,
    Have I not reason to lament
    What man has made of man?

    Liked by 1 person

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