The blackened earth lies exhausted,
It has become the parchment map of mankind.
Streams marked as fleshy cracked soot lines
Foot notes to human careless brutality.
A beast roars, baring its oil soaked fangs,
Consuming all that challenge it.
A loosed monster clawing at sacred life,
It is hungry and demanding to be fed.
The frailty of simple legions do battle,
With baggy armor, with puny tools,
Come to wage war against the dragon,
Clashing in conflict with Brigid’s spawn.
Thus the valiant warrior line is drawn,
Furrowed into Gaea’s rich bountiful sea,
Thrown into the oily coils of this hell.
Slimy tendrils choke the living elements,
This ancient incubus from the depths, copulating
With air, water, earth…Mother Nature violated.
The wail is not from joy, it is pain.
The writhing scales of its black body expand,
Whipping across azure blue, taunting.
It spills into the tidal pools of creation,
Searching, reaching, killing…it has wants.
In the end man will close its jaws,
Subdue and tame the creature,
Drowning it in its own vulnerability.
Gaining strength in its receding death,
The two legged water filled bags of skin,
They will learn from the serpent demise,
Until they are overcome by their arrogance,
Until next time it rises to the surface to feed.
©2011, Donald Harbour
Donald Harbour Poetry 