The planet we share is in danger
The environment has gone wrong
The ocean is full of plastic
You can’t hear the whale’s song
The world around us is grey
And we need to make it green
We have time to change things
If we stop being mean
Everyone around the world
We need to work it out
We can do this together
As long as we don’t have a doubt
Our future children deserve better
Their outlook can be made bright
Their world can be made safer
If we all just do this right
The creatures of the rainforest
Are in an impossible battle against mankind
They can’t win
Humanity is too strong
We’re hurting them
The vulnerable, hopeless animals and trees, dying
Species of animals are becoming extinct
Trees are horrified, frightened as we arrive
We’re slaughtering these amazing creatures
The trees
They’re dying
Because of us.
Monkeys watching, still wandering the empty landscape
Flames flickering around them
Their home cracking and creaking in agony
Imagine if you came home to a barren wasteland
Would you like that?
The innocent creatures are dying
Destroyed, gone, forgotten
Five hundred years I’ve been stuck in the sand
Since you discarded that bottle you held in your hand
I rolled down the path and under a bush
‘Til that big winter storm gave me a push
In a flooding of water, I swam in the rain
Along past the market and straight down the drain
For more than a year I lived in that river
Then a passing boat sent me on an endeavour
The estuary shoreline was teeming with weed
I got stuck for a month but then I was freed
I sailed for a decade on the roughest of waves
Before drifting into the calmest of bays
Five years on, litter pickers arrived
I was plucked from the ground, heavens alive!
I was put in a sack with others like me
But was carelessly placed too close to the sea
Then back out again with all of the others
The big ones, the small, my sisters and brothers
Accidentally drifting into a pod
It all went dark as they swallowed the lot
I lay in that whale for six whole years
Until the terrible day that confirmed my fears
On that lonely beach it fell asleep
Never again to dive and leap
Screeching gulls heaved me out
Back into the sea, away from their shouts
I could see the island in the mist
But drifted past the pier, I missed.
I hit the sand with quite a punch
My label lost, my lid was crunched
The treacherous winds pushed me up the beach
Into the dunes and out of reach
For a hundred years and a hundred more
I tried to reach the rocky shore
Trying and failing again and again
‘Til a plastic shovel ended the chain
Pulled from the sand after all that time
Five hundred years and I’m still feeling fine
When I think of the moments I’ve wasted it’s frightful
All I can say is, “Just please recycle.”
Winning Poem
I ask no lovelier thing
Than this winter morning:
See how the sparrow bounces on the thin branch,
Its feathers fluffing up against the chill;
See how the sun hides, peeping
Like the dying embers of a beach fire,
While jolly Winston-Churchill-clouds
Skip across the crisp, white sky.
Look! The deep red holly berries glint
Like Santa’s rosy cheeks
As my mind fills with Christmas
Hopes and dreams.
So let me tell you what Santa
Does before Christmas Eve,
(Pure imagination )
It’s just a guess
(Rather, a complete guess)
But I just think that the humor is less.
So, Santa was checking all the gifts that had been packed,
And they were packed,
So, he left for the Toy Factory,
(For a surprise inspection)
It didn’t take long for him to find out that the bookshelves were broken
So he told the elves,
(Who gave each other a sly smile)
To mend the bookshelves.
Soon Santa Claus knew that it was time to get ready,
But he just got to know that his beard needed a trim,
(Honestly, it was Mrs Claus who reminded him)
So, the elves started trimming his beard,
(They were too clumsy for words)
In the meantime Mrs Claus prepared a mug of steaming hot cocoa,
Filled up to the brim.
Finally it was Christmas Eve,
Vixen, Blitzen and all the other reindeer were ready,
(Prancer was stamping his feet out of excitemen )
The weather was merry and bright,
Because Santa was going to come tonight,
(Now, he was in India)
He heard a father tell his son,
That Santa came at night as it was his style,
Santa’s eyes twinkled and he gave a wide smile.
The tree is up,
The countdown finished,
No worries at all.
The stockings hung,
The mince pie and milk for Santa
A carrot for his tireless steed.
Is it real?
Can it really be?
Will I wake up tomorrow with a present under the tree?
The tree is up,
The countdown finished,
No worries, no worries.
I stand at the border of two streets.
One, a bleak reminder of dearth,
the other an interval of comfort.
A young girl warms her knuckles,
the brief kindling of a premature flame,
illuminating a comet in her eyes,
as apartment block carollers permeate,
the low hum of privileged rejoicing.
The street reigns quietly.
As if to lull, the stinging disparity
of pennies and breadcrumbs,
as a stray cat roams past, carefree
its tail pointing to neither end
of the street, but up to the sky,
where extinct streets
and forsaken hamlets commune
in the stairways of equity.
Tomorrow is Christmas Day.
Drifting through the sky.
Little snowflakess don’t you cry.
Drift down.
On to the ground.
Where Santa will cross through the silver path… on to the sleigh of truth.
Jumping, flying spreading the joy.
Leaping, soaring through the sky.
Santa in here tonight.
Spreading the Christmas feeling.
Giving the gifts to children all around.
Giving everyone the time to feel the special