The autobiography of a dumping site
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Once upon a time
I was a Flushing Meadow.
Within my endless bounds
Birds and winds rested on their flight.
But in the passage of time
Man's ivory towers swallowed my grounds
Leaving me to ravaging seasons.
And in the turn of events
I was a town's dumping site.
Whatever man threw into the streets
Finally reached my funeral pyre.
My charming meads were heaps of waste
Dogs and jackals hunted my grounds.
And in the eternal fire and smoke
I lost my meads- where are now those springs?
Instead of a flower-strewn hill
To passersby Iam an unbearable sight.
Around me is hot wind, above me hot sun
And where are those whispering brooks?
Preempted into half cooked flesh?
Ravi Panamanna
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-dumping-site-2/
