walking in desolation, the last of my kind, heavy with pain,
on the edge of extinction, rain drumming on my head,
washing away hope, a river in flood, rushing down the drain,
carried away to the sea leaving me, inside, dead.
not deliberate, this story's end, not hunted out of being,
at first plenty, down to enough, then few, and then rare,
not wall hung trophies,or exhibits preserved, or in a zoo dieing,
but unthought of victims of a race that didn't care.
a few lonely voices raised concern amidst the open greed,
but in the clamour of business, not enough to be heard,
accidental, or deliberate destruction in selfish need,
too shortsighted to care for those who shared the world.
there is no other, in this man wasted world, for me to find,
resigned to pass, gone, less than a page, an hour in history,
condemned, lost, sorrow now is all that fills my mind,
how it came to this, in the doom of man, can be his last mystery.
Author notes
not my typical style, if i have one, but something that came to me while removing a dead rabbit, who's only crime was to eat in a cemetry
A contest entry
- DO I KNOW YOU??? IF NOT, SHOULD I??? by delightfulmess.
600 points, ended September 19, 2008, 30 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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You have said it well.
But it is not the only way.
If any survive, they will be the fit.
One more step in evolution.
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oooh... great message!
Enjoyed this read very much,
My favorite part of the poem was your
3rd stanza...
Well done and thank you for entering my contest.
Delila
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