Often inspiration strikes in the most unlikely places. When this happens you grab the nearest piece of paper you can find to write on. Here are a couple of napkins that survived the years till I was able to scan them...
When the only flower left is a plastic one; Then will man break down and cry for the destruction civilization has caused. But he will continue till he has nothing but himself to destroy, and he will die.
When all is peace and love . . .
. . . the wind will be able to blow freely.
. . . Mother Nature will prosper.
. . . the world will be in the beginning of the end.
7 comments:
very nice! I ran into your blog through another blog - glad I did.
Glad to have you visit! Come back anytime.
Re: your comment on my blog.
Sure, meme away!
K.
I can't count the number of times I've had to write down a verse on the back of my hand because no paper was available.
I just stumbled upon your blog. Your poems are beautiful. "Found", perfectly expresses the frustration I sometimes feel with people who think they have all the answers.
Thank You, eye! I visited your blog and you write some nice poetry yourself. Writing on whatever is available is just part of the creative process. : )
So true. 'When' gave me goose bumps. We are a destructive race, let's hope it's not too late. I love your poetry.
Thank You, Rosie! There's lots of people exploring the green way to do things, so there's always HOPE. I'm glad you've enjoyed my poems.
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