The poetry of Richard J Greene.
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Not so long agothis land was forestfar as the eye could see.Now that forest is tatteredreduced to scraps.Where vast reachesof maple, oak, chestnut and hickory once stoodhousing tracts and shopping centershighways and office parks now teem.Where elk, wolf and bear once roamedcars and trucks now crowd.Where only the cry of bird and beastand the rustle […]
on these landswho ranged its vanished forests,fished its then teeming riversfor species now hardly a memory,crossed countryon trails wide enough only for a manunder boughs everywhere overhead,made houses of saplings and barktools of stone and woodclothes of skinstaking only what the land provided.Now they are gonethose people so lacking in ambitionreplaced by those who please […]
Where once was harmonyof summer field brocadeshills’ tempered curvesemollient layers of leavesfractal earthrocks’ proud displaysor even winter’s stubble-rough weave,now man’s machines pervadegobbling greenextruding black ribbonscolonizing the landscapewith their too neat symmetriesand metallic sheen.Where nature once was sovereignmachinery now patrols streetsof asphalt and concrete.(29 January…
In the long runnations are born and diefuse and fission,civilizations rise and subsideas do mountains and islands,species, and whole orders. In the long runcontinents congealout of the primal magma,come togetherand split apart,and life develops,ultimately producing intelligence. In the long runstars and planets are formed and even galaxies,explode and implodeand turn darkor sink into…
One Tycho Brahe or William Harvey is worth three Aristotles or five Platos. Philosophy is a form of thought that attempts to know by reason that which is a matter of opinion or is only knowable empirically and for which there’s no empirical evidence. Philosophy is a mental rope trick. One’s conclusions depend on one’s […]
Spring, summer, autumn, winter,eighty times I’ve lived that cycle,for my year began in springborn with the flowersand leaves and grass. Spring, summer, autumn, winter,always the same yet always fresh.Pity him who tires of the seasons.He tires of life.(26 July 2011) The poems are in topical series, the current series being “The Seasons”.
The warmth of summerstruggles to staysometimes until November,while leaves cling to treeslong after they’ve had their day.Then snow patchescoldly refuse to departuntil washed away by April showers.But spring’s chartreuse leaves,blossoming treesand fountains of forsythiatoo readily give wayto summer’s placid green.(30 December 2010) The poems are in topical series, the current series being “The…
It’s August nowand I walk in early morningto avoid the heatdown to the pondits surface dimpled with bubbles,life fermenting beneath. In winter I walk at middayto eke out what heat I canfrom the distant sun. Spring and fall are best,shaded by bowers of tender leavesor the gold and scarlet trappingsof summer’s obsequies.Each season I walk […]
Slowly the sun moves north,each day imperceptibly longer,until light leaks under the window shadeinvading my early morning consciousness.Each day sunlight advancesacross the breakfast tableflaring on surface once in shade,and the sun’s fiery sphereseems to fill the window frame. Forgotten nowthe days when the sun moved southwardsfavoring sleep with darknessand the light on the breakfast table […]
Arrayed in gallant greenthe trees in Springflourished extravagant plumes.Now, in proper attire,they sit stolidly on the hillside.Soon they will donrowdy, harvest colors.But in the end they will standnaked, gaunt and gray.(August 1997) The poems are in topical series, the current series being “The Seasons”.
