***Tarnished Goods***

The fox follows her along the byway to reach untouched forests
those forests unfettered by time and pristine oceans devoid of human touch
and each time always she passes freeways littered with a garbage landscape
the fox glances at bottles and fast food wrappers collecting
on roads under construction on a continuum of future whys
where the smell of black tar invades with stinging and burning
she should be accustomed but wrinkles her nose in disgust
as does the fox now her shadow trusting she will reach a destination
not concrete and black asphalt now covering the richness of earth
and does she still hope windows rolled and closed will be enough
enough to keep her safe or will they be unable to block
out the constant drone of the noise of a civilized world
a world that is one built impinging on nature’s habitat
one adding insult to injury and becoming a macabre graveyard
to endangered species & the fox wonders if he will be next
but he cannot bring himself to let himself be absorbed
into track homes swallowing up citrus groves as the raccoons have done
stealing into the night to rob garbage cans of their next meal
this becoming an unnatural habitat as it has for bears and possum
and he feels oddly fortunate that tigers and lions do not live here
but he can still hear them all screaming in pain underpinned with sorrow
and the fox listens as he follows and always the level of noise increases
increases exponentially with every tree cut down and concrete poured
and the fox feels his shadow growing less as theirs becomes more
where claustrophobic habitats are multiplying housing for a rising populace
and the need to reach the forest to be able to stare in awe at the ocean
propels them down the road and she knows she is like the fox
and that no amount of polish will shine and bring it all back
to bring it back to a time delegated to past histories before her
before the fox became her shadow on a journey to find survival
the only solution being the ability of technology to merge with nature
to be a part of the answer in preserving the beauty here long before us
long before becoming tarnished goods in the midst of climate change
long before the fox became her shadow and she became the fox’s shade

© April 2017 Renee Espriu

This is in response to Jamie Dedes’s Wednesday Writing Prompt at https://jamiededes.com/2017/04/26/my-ears-are-deaf-my-eyes-hear-a-song-a-poem-and-your-wednesday-writing-prompt. The photo below was taken from the Morgue File and Digitized by myself.

Tarnished

Writer’s Repose

Thoughts flow like
vines grasping the
base of an abandoned
pedestal the ornateness
of which is covered
with only mossy lichens
on a bowl with contents
emptied and dust filled
no longer a bath for
tiny sparrows that have
taken flight their
chirping bird song now
a distant memory in
the wind that stirs the
breeze to send leaves
fluttering in the old
deserted graveyard
where long lost writers
have taken their repose

© November 2011 Renee Espriu

Creation With Fire

Iridescent quality of the
incandescence of burning hot
flames tended to in the oven
to breathe life in an effort
becoming, evolving, creating

Reminiscent now of the epitaph
cold to the touch once burning
brightly but now on a granite
headstone quiet in a graveyard
resting ‘neath a tree on a hill

Brilliantly colored and glazed
once held in hands turned on the
potter’s wheel made hard in the
fire baked to perfection holding
bread on someone’s supper table

Mirror brilliant reflecting images
back to the viewer once held by
glass maker’s hands to blow air
within, the heat not breaking, now
viewed in awe in the shop window

White hot the flames fly a shower
of sparks threatening to burn the
artist’s hands ever-present seeking
solace in the knowing that fire is
creation to images unfolding within

© October Renee Espriu