Forest Action Poems Australia
Farewell Cybele

WANTED
 
Cybele, our Sundays will never be the same,
our picnics in the forest spoiled by acid rain;
This summer we stand on decaying autumn leaves,
the skeletal branches wracked with man's disease.
Still, the smoke stacks spew out their foul breath,
too late now to stem the creeping death;
the sickening scourge men failed to stay,
blind to their fate, living only for the day.
Cybele, I cannot save you, or nurse you back to health,
I'11 chop you down, and from you, make a coffin for myself.
Listen to the wind in the forest, sighing:
Farewell Cybele, the trees are dying.
 
"The Waysider" No 194 dec1985
 
 
 
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DEAD OR ALIVE
MAN
Raper of forests
Butcher of the oceans
Exterminator of species
Wrecker of recources
Annihilator of his own kind
REWARD
 
Ten million years of freedom
from his yoke.

Jim teys

The Waysider No 170 Nov/dec 1981